Wool

Wool-

Weds 10-21-15

Wool-

your fur feels like wool

my loyal shiba inu

but as i pet you it comes off in patches.

my breath catches,

deep in my throat -deep down in the place

where tear rivers flow.

and I don’t know

how to say goodbye?

Lord only knows

how hard we tried

to save you from illness and grief.

now as a last resort

is putting you to sleep.

But that’s for tomorrow.

today is for saying goodbye

and your fur feels like wool.

your sleeping most of the time now.

at 13 or 14 years old your no longer

our spunky friend.

you’ve slowed down but we both love you so much.

Tomorrow morning will come soon enough.

I wish there was a way to properly

say goodbye and i love you

my loyal shiba inu.IMG_0225

Rest in peace Moshi Moshi Feb 2001-10/22/15

Advertisements

Merry go round

Merry go round-

Spinning, faster, faster

a twirling metallic

merry go round

and when or where it

stops

nobody knows.

Feeling caught.

Feeling trapped.

In the inner corner

of a blank page.

words left the station

so long ago

not much left to say.

childhood

nostalgia

silly nonsensical

rythmes to pass the

times.

Sometimes

I just want

off

of this puking frenzy

of a Merry a go round.

My feet hit the grass lightly

linger upon pavement

making no sound.

feeling invisible-

like I did when I was

very little.

Just want off

of this

spinning

metallic

Merry go wheel.

The Red Line

The Red Line-by Emily H. Sturgill

4/4/15 9:38 AM EST

The Red Line

where does all this blood

and gore come from?

and why do people try

to deny

women who are in intense pain

the truth of their condition

why do they insist these poor

creatures are feeding them

nothing but lies?

Get on The Red Line Baby…

Come along for the ride…

we got plenty of seats

if you’ve got the time.

We will show you a trick or two,

of how we do what we do.

How we manage the pain,

it’s a losing game

with plot twists and curves and angles

galore.

Go ahead we dare you!

Just open the door.

Jump on The Red Line Baby.

Come along for the ride.

We cannot guarantee it-

but we can certainly bleed it.

We cannot guarantee it-

because you’ll never believe it!

We cannot guarantee it-

but the pain will send you reeling

and it’s could possibly make you

feel as though your losing your mind.

Step up here.

Just in time.

For the Red Line.

Every 26-45 days..

the moon cycles backwards

and a woman screams outwards

She screams out her pain.

And the blood does flow

freely as though

she cut open a vein.

But we are told, that this is normal,

this much blood.

this much pain.

perfectly normal.

to suggest any otherwise?

you must be insane.

So Jump right up the Red Line

Baby.

Watch me twist, turn, yipe,

and contort-as if I am a puppet

and my uterus holds my strings.

But isn’t this just what women do?

Isn’t this just normal, childbearing stuff?

It’s ok that the men do not believe it.

What hurts us the most,

are the other women who doubt us.

Then the doctors too who do not believe us.

Take your time.

Get in Line.

Jump right in, then learn to swim.

swim as though you are

very afraid of drowning

not in tears, not in lakes

but in rivers filled of blood.

Come on, aboard, everybody

get on quick. Step right up,

onto

The Red Line.

 

 

Spring sneaks softly

Spring sneaks softly in…

like a brown field mouse

hiding from Cats.

likes a warm breeze in between

the gusty cloudy grey sky.

Spring sneaks softly in…

like an afternoon nap

fading slowly pass or

like changing the clocks

forward an hour

spring sneaks softly in…

like a sunrise you almost

missed out on while checking

your cellphone constantly,

or when you realize that sweaters

feel both too tight and too warm.

Spring sneaks softly in…

while we are busy taking

winter for granted and have

completely forgotten what Summer is all about?

Spring sneaks in softly…

with the clearing of blue skies

the beginning of muddy dirt pies

the trading of gray daylight

for ever expanding bright sunlight

Spring sneaks softly in like a thief among

tulips and windy breezes

Spring sneaks in.

Crash &Bash:

Crash & Bash-

2/21/15

I feel as though

I have been letting some

loyal readers down~

i haven’t written much

poetry on my blog

since i left town.

we had an awesome vacation,CAM01704 CAM01702 CAM01701

but now i’m back

hoping dearly nobody has given

up on me entirely.

Life got kinda busy.

The hustle, bustle, besides collecting

poetry for an upcoming

anthology.

The hustle. bustle, the crash & bash.

The empty time, while I was away,

with nothing to say,

i just was not online.

Life got kinda busy,

The hustle, bustle, the crash & bash,

a stolen vacation,

leaving my blog a bit empty

lonesome but please please

do not forget me & do

forgive all the empty

i left here instead.

it’s just been kinda busy,

the hustle, the bustle, the bash & the crash,

inside my head.

copper leaf necklace hangs down

A copper leaf necklace hangs down

off the side of my bed

as it rips through my

clenched fist

and I grab

fists full of air.

 

it hits the floor softly

making so little

less noise

you’d think it

 

was not there

this memento

a token

of a trip i took

while we were

parted

 

we were parted

like the great and giant

Red Sea

a gulf of misunderstanding

it stretched out between,

you & me.

 

parted/split/divided

into two

two entirely

different people

than the ones

who we normally are

 

people stuck together

not by glue

but by choice

 

it was my heart

i gave it to you

on a dark and stormy night.

 

you still have it.

my heart i mean.

even though its quite messy, dirty and awful,

you take care

of it

you dust it clean

by only using

 

one thing.

your love

this endless stuff

we are stuck here

together with

this sticky situation

 

and yet we stay

together

stronger now

then ever parted.

 

this copper necklace

a leaf

a momento

a reminder

to get more sleep

 

and to be my better self

sometime tomorrow

my love

my endless golden sticky

situation that I’ve stuck with

my love is the one

i would stand by

through years of

eternity.

Free Ebooks-starting Today!

Upcoming Free Kindle ebook Downloads*****Starts today!
Four of my Artist & Poetry chapbooks will be free to download as Kindle ebooks:

1-“Do not cry me a River of Crocodile Tears.”(2013)
2-“In Exile from Maxwell park:poems” (2014)
3-“Butterfly rimmed eyeglasses and the trouble with Tuesdays.”(2013)
4-“Red Bones.”(2014) be free to download. These titles will be free from 12/27/14-12/31/14.To download any of these titles please visit my Amazon.com‘s Author Page:www.amazon.com/author/emilysturgill    OR

http://www.amazon.com/Emily-Sturgill/e/B00B1GC5LY

In addition, my personal memoir about living with bipolar disorder,
5-“Memoirs recalled Madness: a personal account of living with manic-depressive disorder.” (2013) will also be free to download from 12-27-14 through 12/31/14.
To download #1 go HERE: http://www.amazon.com/not-cry-River-Crocodile-Tears-ebook/dp/B00DRN85YA/ref=asap_B00B1GC5LY?ie=UTF8
To download My Memoirs on living with Bipolar Disorder/Manic Depression please go HERE:
Keep checking my blog for Kindle deals, I have more deals starting on Dec 28-Jan 21, 2015.
Happy Holidays!!! If you have never read any of my ebooks but do enjoy this blog, the poetry in the books is very similar and I also add my own original artwork as well. You may enjoy them but it’s worth a look. They will be free so you can always delete later, if you decide you hate it or its not your cup of tea. Reviews are highly welcome-both positive or negative I enjoy feedback of any kind because it allows me to become more in tune with what readers like and what they do not care for.Thank you.-Emilywpid-cam01434.jpg Snapshot_20141223_3

Suicide Song

Suicide song-

i think i know why,

the caged bird sings,

because it is loved, fed, petted & talked to.

i think i know why

some people choose to die.

sometimes  imagine it

sometimes i feel like i even want it.

the release

the sense of freedom & peace.

the escape…from it all…

two slit wrists

won’t lead me to paradise.

suicide is a terrifying car ride

that crashes and burns

not just taking you down,

but everyone else who cares about you

too.

Still i imagine, a bloody passionate fatal

mistake, which at this point

i am certain i will not make.

but still comes crashing

these thoughts which do burn

my dreams of becoming

someone who learns

from their mistakes.

I do not want to be

stuck deep down in the earth

lying in a cemetery,

I would rather be

that happy, caged bird which sings

because it is loved, petted , fed & talked too.

I am dealing with darkness

not because i really want too,

but because the darkness is here

all around my guilty, neglected, hateful

traitors heart.

two slit wrists

won’t lead me to paradise.

suicide is a terrifying car ride

that crashes and burns

not just taking you down,

but everyone else who cares about you

too.

Anniversary Song-

A few days ago,

WordPress.com thanked me and

offered congratulations on writing this blog,

for two years now.

I cannot believe how much,

this strange, wacky, little blog

of mostly weird poetry,

has become so darn important to me.

To have that sensation of merely

scrawling graffiti on a bathroom stall

to realizing that someone is actually

reading your words,

paying some attention at all-

it is and remains rather

amazing to me.

That others might read, connect or even pay

any attention to me~it is a strange random fruit

a piece of delicacy.

I want to thank all my readers,

for jumping into the unknown with me.

For reading, for commenting, for bestowing

any attention to my small world

of poetry.

That has been the most wonderful surprise

of all. To be able to connect through the maze of the

internet, with readers, with other writers, with other poets,

with anybody ever at all.

I celebrate this anniversary with all of you.

If no one ever paid any attention,

I would have just faded out into

the abyss.

Thank you each and all of you

for ever bothering to peek

into my bathroom stall

and read my graffiti-

loosely scribbled poetry

my words

on this

wall.

The babble bustle of the Morning:

The babble bustle of the Morning-

As I wake up I move so

slow, and my mind does wander

on if I wish to write Today

and where my mind should

go?

 

The babble bustle of my Morning,

my Mother in Law is already

loudly screaming.

As often She tends to do

whenever our dogs are barking

She flips the heck out.

 

If I could talk to her

rationally, I would explain that

Dogs do bark and its silly

to get angry.

In fact my husband & myself

prefer that our dogs bark naturally-

as that was in the job they were

hired on for, to guard our house

sincerely.

 

But with Her,

there is no rationality.

So I do not waste my breath.

I let her morning screaming

go on and simply fade into

my morning background,

I ignore the unrest.

 

With Morning comes,

slow inspiration

it drips as slow

as my dripped coffee

which my body requires neatly,

just as a car requires

gasoline.

 

So I go downstairs to

face the barking dogs

to face the screaming Widow too

I go downstairs to make my

coffee & then I will bring

a cup filled with dark blackness

and crawl back into my liar

my dragons den

of a bedroom.

 

Here I will drink my coffee

and allow my thoughts

to percolate

I will try my best to tune out

all the noise, and find a place of mind,

to meditate.

 

Then I will write.

I will

babble

bustle

burst

with words, images,& poetry

which will make total sense

to almost Nobody.

 

Yet it pleases me

to do so.

To write, to mold the words like clay

into something solid

like ideas, creativity and all the junk

that comes with the art

of writing simple poetry.