Red Blood Moon

Red Blood Moon

full until

it becomes

eclipsed into the

Dawn’s morning light.

the light eats away

the darkness of the night.

It ushers in the morning with

secrets beyond our sight.

As the blood red moon

controls the oceans tides

and deep inside our own

liquified minds.

The tug and the pull

until after when

the moon sheds its thick

skin and sneaks

quietly away

vanishes without a whisper

without a word

this theif of our night

is never heard.

Felt yes, but heard never.

She creeps silently away

as her cloak turns the pages

of a beautiful new day.

All in a name

My name is She who,
walks with animals

and talks like a hyena laughing-
non stop fast paced flutter.

My other name is Girl Trapped beneath mirror.
She seems backwards and semi-self-conscious
this shadow like a plus size diva.

My secret name is spoken best in
murmurs and whispers
as I make it up as I go along,

flying by the seat of my pants.

My last name is merely Poet.
A common and often forgotten word,
once it carried so much weight
but now its barely to be heard…
Poet,Poet,Poet

She who walks with animals, and Girl Trapped beneath mirror
are both one and the same, then there lies a secret name always changing and evolving never to remind the same
my last name is common enough, Poet. There that is everything about me you will ever need to know,
oh that plus the small imperfect fact that sometimes , some days, I am nearly insane.

The Clock

The Clock-5/16/14
Emily Sturgill

The hum of the fan
the tick-tock of the
hand

as minutes fly by,
into hours
in the blink
of an eye.

then the entire world,
it floats
it floats on by…

The hum hum hum
of the fan
and
the tick-tick-tick
of the clock.

minutes feel like
a life-time
ago.

just try to tune
into the quiet
though,

before it passes
you by.

Upcoming Sale on Kindle Starts Tomorrow…Lavender Surprise

Starting tomorrow at 8:00 AM PST, my kindle e-book “Lavender Surprise.” will go on sale being reduced from it’s original price to a mere 99 cents.This is a direct link:http://www.amazon.com/Lavender-Surprise-Emily-Sturgill-ebook/dp/B00BT4QBDG/ref=la_B00B1GC5LY_1_11_title_0_main?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1384630698&sr=1-1

Lavender Surprise
A chapbook containing both poetry and artwork by the Poet/Artist/Author. The poems are in a vein of surrealistic poetry. There is both color and black and white artworks. It is roughly 35 pages long. It is the Author’s seventh chapbook this year. (2013)

Soul-compass

To believe

in somethings in which others,

do not-takes Faith, Courage & Hope.

 

To believe

in the abstract, in the philosophical notions,

of Truth, Charity, Virtue and pure agape Love-

for man, women, child or beast-

 

To have this forlorn belief that

your actions really do matter.

To have the certainty,

that above all else

you must honor others

as much as you honor yourself–

in some cases, perhaps, even more.

 

To live with the knowledge,

that you are more than:

a mere breathing machine,

taking up space & air.

 

But instead something greater,

a part of the cosmos,

a part of Humanity,

a part of shared History.

 

That whether you accept it or not,

you are part of the

endless sea from here to eternity.

 

You are something greater,

someone with a beating heart,

and a wondrous, wandering Soul.

 

If you trust your instincts, your heartbeats,

your wandering Soul,

it will lead the way-

it will show you the compassion

along a compass-

 

of the right or wrong way,

in which to go.

 

 

Beneath the Depths

Beneath the depths by Emily H. sturgill

written on sunday 11/10/13

Beneath the Depths-

off the deep end, the depth,

of a Dog.

a Jaded wish, golden green

emblazed,

with another:

Detroit Depression.

Staring, down the barrel of

Trust, as a Daydream.

Drawing Pictures of Picasso’s Peace-Motion.

Cover me in Oceans,

as the birds form,

my Sister’s Staircase.

Covered in sea-shells and glistening

in Sands.

She escaped Michigan,

for the Sunrise of Florida,

and the promises of Eternal

Sun-filled Days.

Here in Michigan,

I will stay, staring down,

another Detroit Daydream.

IMG_0583

Today’s a much brighter Sunny day:

Today’s a much brighter Sunny Day,

perhaps not on the outside,

but on my insides-which is more vital-it’s where,

the flowers of my soul grow.

It’s where the soil is rich, deep dark yet tender.

Like firm dark chocolate.

The roots start to twist & tangle,

as they release and begin to feed and grow,

deep inside my soul.

Today’s a much brighter Sunny day.

Perhaps not on the outside,

but on my insides which is much more vital-more alive-more urgent.

Very importantly, the insides are sunny-

from there Hope begins to grow,

building up to a Good Mood- a peaceful day.

Last night WE-my husband & I-

both somehow “earned” or “achieved” or “mastered”,

more sleep.

We both woke up happy & and in Love still.

It was very nice-to awaken to so much happiness.

Hope makes the flowers of my soul grow-

what do you plant deep beneath a wall of sleep?

What do you carry deep inside you?

Where do you hide your secrets?

Where do you keep your dreams?

Do they ever come true for you?

Mine do.

Today’s a much brighter Sunny Day.

New Facebook page for Sex in the kitchen Sink

https://www.facebook.com/sexinthekitchensink13?ref=hl

Follow me on facebook please!Picture 149 Warming up with color abstract 2 Fall 2013 Spirals of Song and other poems book cover1 Picture 161 Warming up with color abstract 1 Fall 2013 Abstract oil pastel drawing 99 cover design for words whirl 2013 copy Falling to pieces by EHCato 1999 IMAG0893 IMAG0898 IMAG0897 Art before words new front cover copy back cover art before words3 copy self portrait 05012013 Picture 94 Acrylic mixed media pumice gel painting 1996 canvasboard Spirituality, acrylic and sand on canvasboard 1996 possible coverart1 copy Athena wiccan11 IMG_20130330_093258

Simplicity part 2-dedicated to my friend Erin D.

Picture 161Picture 158Picture 160

Simplicity

2 parts bitter-sweet vinegar

2 parts harmony

one dash of Hope

one sprinkling of Faith,

one Tablespoon full of miracles.

1/2 stick of helplessness melted but not burnt brown.

1/4 cup memories

16 oz of pure, unstrained Love

1 graham pie crust of sorrows

1 can of heavy-whipping cream

2 tbs allspice, 2 tbs cloves, 4 tbs fresh honesty

one classic ceasar salad of velvet covered sadness

one case of dark irish beer…

blend with one bag of Catholic Guilt,

add two whole egg-yolks

add 7 hail-marys and one quart of confessions.

Blend with a twist of hard scotch whiskey, empathy as a orange peel, a cherry

with-out its stem, some liquid courage, one King James version of

The Holy Bible.

Some false idols/some fake friends/those who will swear by you/

yet they disappear in the end?

I trust nobody who says to me, that they will “pray for me,”

I wish i were not a bitch like that, but i totally am-such a bitch.

I am not going to offend them by declining their pray offers-

but i am not going to depend on them for this junk.

I usually merely responded with Thank you-or thank you very much-whatever.

Prayers are both sweet and nice-

if they are done right.

But true friends do more than have private jesus jams/

talks on your behalf.

True friends know when you are sad, And sense when you need to have a small

phone-call chat. true friends listen and practice the,

Fine Art of Allowance-

meaning they allow you to be sad.

They do not try to cram you into a shoebox

with too much duct tape,

and scrawl the word “Happy”

onto your head-in order to make themselves feel better.

Real friends want you to feel better,

but when you get around to it.

Real friends allow you,

to simply FEEL.

They allow you to be-

They allow you to grieve and to suffer.

They realize there is no universal time clock on

one feeling verses another.

I wrote this out for a friend of mine.

Her mane is Erin-we kinda grew up together.

Anyways, her mother just recently passed away due to Cancer,

this past march on st.patricks day.

Erin and her twin Bridget are both my friends.

I did not realize how huge their family is until very recently,

Anyways yesterday, Erin was having a bad day,

and she shared with her fb friends she really missed her mother.

I was completely floored with all the useless facebook comment messages

she was getting. There were just so fake to me.

So i commented myself-and i was not trying to impress facebook-or Erin or anybody else.

I just wished to say something that could comfort Erin and be

totally completely “real” and “honest” with her.

I was just being me, I was just being emily.

She wrote me later, in a private facebook message, Thank you so much , you knew just how I was feeling and how much my messages helped her.

That really made my evening last night.

It is a good feeling to be a good friend to somebody you forever care for,

cherish and sisterly love.

True friendships among women are not always,

easy to find or to maintain.

But once I’ve formed a friendship bond-

with another female- I keep those friends

out and treasure them immensely.

It really takes a whole pile of damages for me,

to no longer consider a woman my friend.

Once a friend, always a friend, at least that is where

my loyalties take me. So many beautiful feminine friends:

Each is like a precious gem or a secret treasure to me.

I LOVE my friends-all of them.

even the cob-webbed covered ancient ones,

those are kind of crunchy

but i just love them all the more-for it!!!!

Seeking inspiration:

Seeking inspiration, I stumble among

my large book collection.

I pick one up-flip through a few pages- and find this:

I take the pieces of my brokenness and I create something new and meaningful. I offer this wisdom to others. Now I understand that my very brokenness is my connection to the unbroken whole.”

(Straub.Gail.(2001) Circle of Compassion-Meditations for Caring-for self and for the world. page 86. Journey Editions: Boston:MA.)

I ponder Ms. Straub’s meditation. It seems to me that in so many places, I
struggle with my brokenness. I stitch it together these shards of fragile self, like shards of broken glass.

I weave my brokenness into a sweater. I keep myself warm for more stormy weather.

How can I use my scars to heal myself?

How can I use my scars to heal others?

Is empathy always a two-bladed sword-if I feel for you, for your pain, am I also stabbing myself,

at least a small bit in my big and wounded heart?

And yet, I cannot stop it.

This endless sea of empathy.

I want to help everybody I meet.

I want to be useful, and unique.

I want to be the one who bandages others, comforts them, encourages them.

Yet, I wondered how can I reach outwards with my heart,

giving of myself-while I still bleed of emotions from time to time?

Is it right? Is it practical? Can I sacrifice my sorrows-just to give to,

someone else, a blessed and happy tomorrow?