a leather bound book
of secrecy and such
the breath of a raven
the ghost of a feather
beneath a shadow who smells
a book of secrets
passed from one generation
to the next-
stepped in ones history
a landscape of
time not forgotten
words whispered quietly
among the chosen.
Sometimes secrets are better
left quietly whispered into
the darkness part of the night
under the fullest moon
in the pale yellow lime
My new collection of fiction and short stories is called,”A Mandala that happened on the way to a car crash & other Stories.” by Emily H. Sturgill (2015)
This is the paperback link on Amazon.com:
This is the ebook off of kindle link HERE:
This is the paperback on the Createspace Store:
Full Color on White paper
BISAC: Fiction / Short Stories
A short collection of Short Stories, poetry, and artwork. It is a chapbook of Modern surreal fiction this first of its kind by this Author, Artist and Poetess. Emily Sturgill has a BFA in Fine Arts Painting and a Masters of Education in Art Education and Art Therapy.She runs a blog on WordPress.com called,”Sex in the kitchen Sex.” Since 2013 this is her 21 Self-published work. Her other books are listed on her Amazon.com Authors page. Mostly known as artist and poet this is Emily’s first attempts at short stories. Tread lightly, as she is by no means an expert mostly just a novice with one toe dipped in the water as the streams bubbles past…
Both Anthologies are currently on FREE KINDLE DOWNLOAD:
I just released my first attempts in the short story genre.It is not very long, and it supplemented it with art and poetry-It is roughly 53 pages long. I used to stories I wrote during my BFA under-grad program in a creative writing class from 2003. I also wrote a couple new short stories too. It is now available in the kindle store. I am still a waiting approval on my paperback from the Createspace store.
HERE is a link: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00VJJDKRG
This is a preview of the paperback book cover.
There is not too much I can say beyond, that this terrifies me. Short stories have always been fun yet intimidatingly daunting to attempt to write. I love to read them myself. But I am uncertain if I am very good at writing them. Proceed reading with extra caution, because I am primarily a painter & a poet. It requires a different mind set to write a good short story. Although, some might argue, if your a good enough writer you can really write anything at all. If that is true?
Wow!! Wonderful….now pardon me, while I go write the next best selling Harlequin Romance or the next must have 50 shades of grey or Harry Potter…..Um, quite possibly I think those types of writing are very popular & possibly quite wonderful but totally beyond my grasp. I do not read those types of books so I doubt highly I could ever write one!!!! But I do write the way I do, in a surrealistic sideways freak-show type of way-warts and all…
If you check out my new kindle book, please,please,please!! Consider leaving me a review or some feedback on this blog post or on my Authors page: http://www.amazon.com/author/emilysturgill/
Thank you for your time reading this!! Sincere thanks, Emily
Moody music & black coffee
as I rush up
the morning greets me.
Mother in laws
unhappy & her screaming
gets to me.
So I put on a CD of Goth type
moody music & drink black coffee
if I hide upstairs she won’t see me
if i hide upstairs I can pretend
she’s not so unhappy, bristling & angry
at the whole entire everything of her own
personal story & her history.
She is sick right now which
darkens her sky even more
and with all that yelling
she is difficult to ignore.
But I realize you cannot make others happy.
and no matter how hard I try to please
it’s just going to blow up in my face
it’s never going to work out
with her argumentative personality
nothing I say can count.
Also, matter of fact I am sick right now too,
but she lacks the empathy or understanding
that others can also feel sick, no she has to be,
the one worse off & the complete
center of attention.
It bothers me of course-
that I can never catch a break with her.
She lacks the empathy, I once assumed was
a natural part of every single lady.
But she was cast from a different mold.
I try to make her happy but only to
a certain degree because I realize
happiness is virtually impossible
for her, unless she changes her mind
and decides too-to be happy?
Misery is more what’s on her list
& misery loves company-
so she tries to drag me in-into her dramas,
that is why I hide myself
behind a staircase
behind some moody music
and I drink my black coffee
thankful that I am mostly happy
most of the time, anyways.
She is old beyond her years.
She is loud beyond belief,
and I think she needs some happy pills
because she never has relief.
Moody music & black coffee
as I rush up
the morning greets me.
Four of my poetry & artist chapbooks will be on kindle-countdown sales starting Friday March 27, 2015.
The first is called,”Lavender Surprise: poems and artwork”
Everyone’s a critic
they show their shadow side
unleashed behind the teeth
of a fake smile
they look at what you say, make or do
then they say it could’a been
oh so much better!
I understand and fully believe
in constructive criticisms~but please don’t
tell me these things I make or create
simply don’t work out
or that they plainly suck
when you remind me of the
back seat driver.
When was the last time you actually
made something yourself?
Or created something out of thin air?
Or molded some words into a poem, or a story?
Or made some snazzy drawing-still counts even if
it was made out of lunacy.
Don’t slam me for my efforts.
It’s not constructive criticisms.
It’s more like your just unimpressed
with any of my mundane efforts.
Why are people so quick to focus
on failures, or negatives or the bad & the ugly?
Sadness grabbed there first
before I know what she was.
Sadness grabbed my heart She left
a white marked
along the paths of veins and arteries.
ghostly fingers imprinted her mark
of fine woven sandy fingerprints
of the shadow of
an invisible sadness.
Sadness was a secret sister to me
she held me silently
even on all the days
I wept both crazy and madly.
Sadness she was with me
almost at all.
She cast a sudden sharp shadow
upon my happiest moments and
memories-She colored the most beautiful of days
into grayness colored ashes
the cremation of happiness
into an ugly urn
only I could see, while because Sadness
She touched me first there.
She grabbed my small heart
and left a lingering loneliness,
She left a longing for
a lingering romance
with her own tormentor and invention
a man in a blacken smog suit
by the name
Words Fall-Friday 3/13/15
by Emily Sturgill
gushing into puddles
around my thick ankles
there is a secret sincere subtle
grace of cold water crashing down
an upturned face.
into foam blasts of wetness
coating the cement, covering stones, crawling over pavement-
the way the water captures everything
a downpour of fierce
spring rain or
the terror of a spring flood?
this like water
is how my poetry
how my words