The gift

The gift

The gift arrived with little expectations.

it was unwrapped

an open box

it had contained Hope

but like with Pandora’s box the hope

escaped and travelled off with little fanfare.

When I peered inside the box this is when

the hope escaped-it covered my face, it cloaked my outfit, it drizzled me

into rainbows and unicorns.

The gift was unsigned. It was anonymous.

It was not even addressed to me yet i opened it anyways.

It was in a small sparkly white marbled box made

completely of cardboard.

it felt heavy like it weighed a ton this carrying case

of a loaded gun.

This box containing all of the hope required for the entire planet

yet here i had accidently stumbled upon it.

now what?

now what to do with all this foolish hope

laid upon my bare shoulders and entrusted

to me?

Simply believe, is what I find myself whispering to myself.

Simply believe in Hope.

because clearly Hope believes in

me.

And I think that is something scared.

I think that that is something meant to be.

beyond belief

beyond belief-

July 9, 2015

beyond belief

is where I’ve found him.

this sly imp with the devils grin.

the wide open shining blue laughing eyes,

that hypothesize- mesmerise.

they sparkle and shine

showing only a young soul

bearing the heart of one so much

more old.

beyond belief

is where he sleeps

among the places I’ve been dreaming of him.

inspiration found only among

a video web chat

with a clown.

beyond belief to find

a single grain of sand

of this happiness stuff.

It happened to me while I was lost

adrift upon a most troublesome sea.

when i felt i had no one to turn too

yet there he was texting me

comforting me

making me laugh

while my world had silently shattered

and my thoughts and feelings ran numb

chilled to the bone.

i was alone yet not alone

because this friend was there for me.

it was beyond belief.

A stroke of good fortune.

A shiny small scattering of

simple

hope.

A blessing among the ruins.

Beyond belief is where I’ll met him then.

In a place where the Sun meets the horizon.

Where the grass is always greener

and the dreamers always sleep.

Beyond belief is a place built big enough for two

built big enough for hope

built big enough for you.

an iny_tRo_ duction

an iny_tRo_ duction.

We live~ We breathe~ We die~(sometimes we even reincarnate just to start all over again.)

We live. We breathe. We die.

we swallow creativity whole

like gulping down the horizon

the place i see

deep into your eyes

where earth meets sky.

We live. We breathe. We die.

We eat creativity like koi

swim in battled waters

all at once at peace

yet fighting for their food

the soul that feeds them.

When the world was new…

Did the pagan Gods rise from the

Earth and sky to

greet them

the sleek slender Koi

I mean

as they went on swimming by?

We live. We breathe. We die.

and if and when we are lucky

someday we will live long

enough to know the why?

Stars & William Shakespeare.

Stars & William Shakespeare.

“When he shall die, take him out and cut him into the shape of Stars for he shall make the face of heaven so fine that all the world be in love with night.” -juliet’s monologue excerpt from Romeo and Juliet , William Shakespeare.

I had bullet proof stars in my ears

Stars & William Shakespeare.

bullet proof stars in my eyes

When I was just a wee lass

I stood up at

the head of my Drama Class

and I performed this monologue

of Juliets from Shakespeare.

My teacher called me brass

and bold, before I even began

because She said Shakespeare

was too advanced for high school kids.

I think she even laughed and made fun

of me. But still there I stood

like a shadow

eager to please yet with legs

made up entirely

of wood!!!

After I began, the room

filled with silence

as i mildly

ROCKED IT!!!

Me, my shadow self, wearing

only a black half nightgown slip

and some sort of tank top or t-shirt

i might have been even barefoot?

but mostly i remember the shiny

black half slip with lace round the edges

and the smile on my teachers lips-

so surprised

she gave me an “A”

not just for that performance

but for the entire class too;

i played many roles in high school.

Taitchaba the “witch” from the Crucible-

part of the chorus in Camelot

part of the chorus in “Bye bye birdie.”

but my favorite role

was that of a secret wrapped up

into a surprise

when our teacher said we were too young to

be doing Shakespeare

I had bullet proof

stars in my eyes.

It was quite the surprise

this lone wolf misfit

this strange creature

a punk-rocker, an art-fag,a silent talker

a shadow self

thin enough to slip under

my jar of memories.

I had bullet proof stars in my ears

Stars & William Shakespeare.

bullet proof stars in my eyes

boy was she ever surprised!!!

life by choice…

Life by Choice-1/5/15

By Emily Sturgill

life by choice

is not the same as “pro-choice”,

although i must admit

i am one of those too.

life by choice

refers to embracing

every aspect of your life-

as if you chose it,

rather than as if life chose you….

these are the tumbleweed

thoughts spinning gold

in my head

as of this morning

as of this instant…

if i blink my eyes

new thoughts will

appear.

If i hold very still

I can keep these passing

thoughts, these secrets of my mind,

from dancing a jig

or spinning out of line.

If you had the chance,

would you care to dance?

just a small while

while i think and act and see

things new as if i were

a small child?

Children are gatekeepers

of the unknown.

they ask questions about

everything….

but once we’ve grown old

we’re no longer bold.

we stop asking.

we stop pretending, to believe

in things like make-believe

and dreams.

Why this change?

why lose innocence and a sense

of miracles and of belief?

Why not try?

to make-believe

some miracles…again?

why not attempt to nurture

your inner-being-like it were

a small innocent child?

Why not reach out-outwards-to grab its hand?

to grasp its smile?

why must we assume,

just because we have grown up,

that dreams no longer matter-

that make-believe is only

fantasy and games of a child?

wait just a minute-

now close your eyes

remind yourself

of something or someone

you love.

then just sit with that image

inside your minds eye

and allow yourself

to simply sit there

and smile….

hold for a while

until you feel at ease.

feel the beauty surround you-

let go of disbelief.

just allow

whatever you feel.

isn’t it nice,

to simply pretend

every once in a while?

life by choice

refers to embracing

every aspect of your life-

as if you chose it,

rather than as if life chose you….

(Dedicated to all the Daydreamers, and believers out there.)

Awaken Freshly

Awaken Freshly-12/29/14

Emily Sturgill

i awaken way too early,

its just a fact of my bipolar story…

and my husband he sleeps

soundly.

as i awaken freshly.

wide awake-not enough sleep-

Wrestling with the morning

fighting with the Sun

telling it to go away

to leave me alone, scattered, messy

and undone.

Sometimes, the Secret Slumber is rather Elusive,

ghost-like, slippery, sneaking away

like a thief in the night.

Child-like, I have bad dreams

that disappear in the Sunlight.

Wishing I would-somehow-some-way

normalize

instead of fight the useless fight.

smashing

passion

into a garden of delight,

a garden of twilight,

a garden of no-light, a garden of darkness, a garden

which bears no fruit, except for one single red apple,

a serpent slipped me

and it weighs on me so heavily

like the burden

of all

femininity.

so I sit and stare,

and i awaken freshly

to dreams no longer

there.

 

Kindle 99 cent Sales!!! Ongoing!

SALES:

KINDLE COUNTDOWN DEALS STARTED ON SUNDAY 12/28/14-01/04/15

FOUR DIFFERENT TITLES WILL BE REDUCED TO JUST 99 CENTS:

 

1.”On the Brink letters to the Madness+poems & pictures (Rantings & Ravings Book 1) [Kindle Edition]”

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4.0 out of 5 stars Beautiful Collection Mix of Poetry, Paintings, Photography July 31, 2013

By Michel Short

Format:Kindle Edition|Verified Purchase

“This is a bright and thoughtful collection of “memoir” offering, a blend/mix of poetry, paintings and photography. This is not a written memoir in story form. Ms. Sturgill’s richly detailed account of thoughts and emotions provides understanding of the thought process and her life experience of being affected by mental illness. To her credit, Ms. Sturgill has her Master’s degree in Fine Arts from Wayne University, Detroit, MI. where she lives with her husband and dogs.The isolation and the loneliness that separates those who are ill, the tangled threads, selling secrets/selling drama. The changing “Love Like This” Sturgill describes the randomness of falling in love with her husband Dean, better together than apart, his unconditional love and support. The longest piece/poem “Unread Book” is uniquely written about the soul/life blood of a book, eventually ending with comparison to the circus and circus clowns. “Falling to Pieces” an acrylic on canvas 1996, is my personal favorite, a soulful portrait of unspeakable beauty.”

2.”On the Brink letters to the Madness+poems & pictures. Vol 2″ (Rantings & Ravings) [Kindle Edition]

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4.0 out of 5 stars Interconnecting True Stories, Essay, Poetry and Art.. October 14, 2013

By Michel Short

Format:Kindle Edition|Verified Purchase

” Beginning this second bold and courageous volume of “On the Brink..” is the metaphoric story of the Samurai and Witch. With references to a Zen Master, Gotham City, Batman, Catwoman, etc. this seems to have a juvenile child-like narrative. Next, an “Ode to the Ghetto” my favorite poem in this Chapbook, about Sturgill’s experience of being the only white cashier in an 8 Mile Detroit, MI. Target Store. The racist distain, a white speck on the color wheel of the black universe. “Story” is a combination of metaphoric poetry/essay about the birth of a story from a mother of conception. The words, images, forgotten phrases, eventually become paragraphs. The story savior, rebirth without Christianity, blends into an ongoing revealing comparisons to promiscuity. Words and more single words, seemingly poetry, following a manic run of thought process.In 1986 Sturgill’s favorite aunt died of kidney failure, and had a hard life impaired by alcoholism. This event seemed to set Sturgill’s teen years and family life on a negative, downward spiral. This is darkly and shockingly detailed in: “Ravings of a Lunatic.” Sturgill’s mother bought scotch in gallon containers, her parents fought fiercely and a great deal, yet her father remained the strong, shy, silent type doing almost all the cooking and cleaning. Being bullied at school, and seemingly becoming the family scapegoat over time, and the stressful poor family dynamic, led her to have severe depressive symptoms where she faced further misunderstanding and criticism from her immediate family. Sturgill was prescribed medication from her teen years, and formally diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder (manic-depressive illness) when she was 18.”

3.”Yesterday’s Flowers and other things.: poetry and art.” [Kindle Edition]

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4.0 out of 5 stars Yesterday’s Flowers: Art and Poetry Chapbook… May 6, 2014

By Michel Short

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Everywhere I go I find a poet has been there before me. ~ Sigmund Freud‘Yesterday’s Flowers and Other Things: Poetry and Art’ is author/poet/artist Emily Sturgill’s 12th release in her chapbook series. Whether she is describing the surface levels or the deepest intensity of emotional states and experience, her words are daring, fearless, and articulate. There is often a vibrant richness in her paintings, drawings, mixed media/collage. Ms. Sturgill’s photography captures an expression, moment, or a specific place or theme. It is always up to her readers and followers to interpret individual meaning.The opening New Year poem: ‘Resolutions Fall Flatly’ Ms. Sturgill realizes the need to reinvent herself, meaning less coffee and cigarettes, a new year and person. There are several poems about her love of the freshly written, often random, words. Loose Leaf Paper, Poetry, Commercial, The Storyteller, Honeycomb,
‘The Art Therapist’ recalled putting picture pieces together, the light of hope and joy. Shadows carved out of Oak trees. The transformation of mood that meditation can’t achieve: ‘Music Therapy’. “Art Has Left The Building’ tells of the disappearance of inspiration.
‘Yesterdays Flowers'(theme): Flowers blooming secrets in the brittle dryness of winter.
‘She’ who loved Christmas, making cards and calligraphy writing. A loving memorial tribute poem of Ms. Sturgill’s mother.
The following poems describe the downside of mood disorder, the shadows, secrets, and final acceptance. Mania, A Messy Place, My Shadow Self, A Regression.

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1 of 1 people found the following review helpful

3.0 out of 5 stars Poetry was good, art not so good May 26, 2014

By Delano Johnson

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“Emily Sturgill is an incredibly talented poet and she displays just how skillful she really is in her amazing poetry and art book, “Yesterdays Flowers and other things.” The rhythm and solid flow of each line was perfectly constructed, and demonstrated with excellent writing skills! When you read this book, it will be obvious that the author is well aware of poetry mechanics. I really like the individual style Emily presented in this book as well! In addition to this, every poem I read was understandable and easy to read. They each sparked one, if not several different emotions and everyone knows that every good poetry book must hit you emotionally. Not only does Emily pull you inside of her world with her poetry, “Yesterday’s Flowers and other things”, but some poems beckon you to examine your own reality. I like the poem about the rocks, I use to collect rocks when I was little, so that poem was very interesting and fun to read. 11/15/23 Lucky Rocks. 10/6/13 Loose Leaf Paper is definitely my favorite! Overall, the ending is the key to the entire book! Emily did a great job on this book and I would recommend it to other poets and readers! Specifically, because of the form and technique. Surely, many poets could learn a thing or two.” Read the rest of this review on Amazon.com

 

4.”Spirals of Song and other poems”

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4.0 out of 5 stars An Illistrated Tribute to the Creative Spirit……….,January 21, 2014

By

Michel Short “missmickeesunshine” (Seattle, WA) – See all my reviews

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This review is from: Spirals of Song and other poems. (Kindle Edition)

Spirals of Song and Other Poems is a deeply gratifying tribute to the creative spirit by author/artist Emily Sturgill M.Ed. ~ In the introduction, Sturgill discusses her blog: sexinthekitchensink@wordpress.com, especially grateful for the support of her husband, family, and her 200 plus readers and followers, she hopes to inspire others to draw, paint, “make art”, and write, as she promotes the healing and therapeutic process/effects of creative artistic expression.With her love and admiration for the written word, prose and verbs, awareness of random thought that weaves into a tapestry of words, she writes: “The Muse of Poetry”, “Spirals of Song”, and the addiction to words, where one or two poems a day is never enough.. “Poetry Junkie”.
“The Miscarriage Collages” illustrate the depth of personal loss, in two beautifully done collage pieces, a sharing experience for the benefit of others.
Blending into another form: Random (abstract) Art is illustrated with a bold striking zig-zag painting and another smoother swirl of abstract design. Sturgill explains how (in therapeutic art) emotions color the canvas, the healing that often takes place without the necessity of either the written or spoken word.
“Play Me” a poem of the readiness of musical instruments on standby, is illustrated with clip-art of a violin.
Inspired by the song “Sober” by pop vocalist Pink: “A Pink Poem” is of avoiding the decent into madness that leads to a hospital psychiatric ward. The poem “Love Letter” returns back to the expression of the written word.
Favorite Art Works: ~ Colorful Collage * mixed media 2013 ~ Zentangle * pen/ink drawing 2013 ~ Zentangle #2 * pen/ink drawing 2013 ~ The Peacock * acrylic/mixed media 2012.

All men are creative, but few are artists. ~ Paul Goodman ~
Emily Sturgill M.Ed studied art education and therapy at Wayne State University, Detroit MI, where she lives with her husband and pet family.
It is pleasure to review this amazing prolific series of artist chapbooks. Many thanks to Amazon for the Kindle Promotional Copy.

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1 of 1 people found the following review helpful

4.0 out of 5 stars Emily Sturgills review, November 20, 2013

By

Laura – See all my reviews

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This review is from: Spirals of Song and other poems. (Kindle Edition)

She really writes from her heart her own life struggles and is very insightful on lifes issues …very nicely written and illustrated

THIS SALE WILL ONLY LAST UNTIL jAN 4, 2015. iF YOU ENJOY MY fREE pROMOTIONAL DOWNLOADS ON KINDLE, ThEn, you might also enjoy my other titles too. It only costs 99 cents, per chapbook, why not try them all?

Sweat

Sweat-

9/27/14

Breaking out

into a rash,

of ugly words

broken down metaphors

and crashed out cars

of forgotten highways

I long to pass.

 

Breaking out,

in a sweat

of random rhyme

poetry without boundaries

rhythms without meter

sadness without time.

 

and I

shiver

coldness creeps in

with the turning

flip,flip,flip

of the Fan’s silver blades

crushing the air

 

making time

stand still.

 

A writer without ideas

is like an empty blanket

encircling empty dreams.

 

Breaking out,

in a rash

Breaking out,

in  a sweat,

Breaking out

into….

 

silence

unspoken slices

of imagery

best left forgotten,

left out in the cold

forgotten from a

dream.

Gone Missing into the abyss…

Lately I have

gone missing into

the abyss-

this great big hole

 

this great big rabbit hole

this rabbit hole.

we call life.

 

It sucked me in

and swallowed me

twice.

 

there are times

when illness & depression

invade us.

 

dark desperate armies

built out of thin air,

but fed on despair.

 

as much as

i try to not concave, fall in

or comeplie

 

my worst fears ring true

and I fall on downwards

down Alice’s rabbit hole.

 

Looking for the magic

that will make me

grow big…

 

instead of this

depressive dirty

dinosaur dig

into something ancient

and highly unpleasant

 

like the small secret words:

just give up, because

you will never make it.