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Robert Sturgill Poem
Avoid becoming concrete.
Death encroaching
freezes great hearts.
Illuminate joy.
Kindle love.
Magnify!
Never orally
practice quaint
rhetoric. Speak truths.
usurp violent waters.
X-ray your zenith.
Copyright © Robert Sturgill | Year Posted 2015
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Robert Sturgill Poem
In those brief moments when we have finished pleasing
each other's body the way only we know how:
whispering, touching, tickling, teasing;
we harness eternity and shrink it to now.
Your breasts, Tibetan monastaries guarding the skies,
still tingle from when I touched you there.
My seed escapes to the cavern of your thighs,
and our fragrance lingers heavy in the air.
Amazing love, so mature, so young,
creating memories to forever keep.
Your body remembers the map of tongue,
but this night will end when we roll over to sleep.
So here, now, before the end has begun,
let's remain in this union, melted as one.
Copyright © Robert Sturgill | Year Posted 2015
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Robert Sturgill Poem
1
A Vietnam veteran and a mother
Stand shoulder to shoulder
Before it's patriotic domain,
Amazed at the hard stone's ability
To accept the lost with such soft hands.
Their faces, caught in the black granite,
Merge into one.
With a secret map
Etched into the tips of their fingers,
They grope the wall
As if given a short reprieve
From the distance of the dead,
Running their fingers over the names -
Speaking an ancient language
Whose letters sink
Back into the earth.
I eavesdrop only in the reflection,
Because their emotion is awkward,
Like the first time your father cried.
2
She stands vulnerable under an indifferent sky
The color of cold ashes.
Taloned memories swoop in
Like birds of prey,
Bleeding the air with an archaic wound,
Ripping the scabs
From the emptiness of her womb.
Each visit is the first -
As if Mary Magdalene had rolled
Back the massive boulder to find
Jesus' body - the resurrection an elaborate hoax.
She instinctively reaches for his name,
And like a nervous, young mother,
Wipes a tear from his moist eye.
3
The black pool shimmers in his dark eyes.
He rides a wave of time,
Each ebb and flow a cruel cycle,
Living with what is brought ashore,
Coping with that
Which is taken back.
A crash from above
Evicts him from the root of his foundation.
A flash!
And he is caught inside again,
Offering his arm for its construction.
Barely audible,
He utters a single protest and reaches
For the man in front of him.
Is he once again attempting
To stop the bleeding
Or desperately trying
To add his own name to the list?
Copyright © Robert Sturgill | Year Posted 2015
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Robert Sturgill Poem
Air breaks
off in pieces
and slips
to the ground.
Breath comes
and goes
ruluctantly
like glaciers.
In a window
as big as
they sky,
a burst of yellow
stands tall
on someone's sill.
Fingers of gold
erupt in dozens
of rays
that warm me
like a ittle
explosion of sun.
Copyright © Robert Sturgill | Year Posted 2015
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Robert Sturgill Poem
Fluorescent signs shout
"Liquor" and "***,"
cardboard boxes
hold the land hostage,
pushers and prostitutes
pirouette
with survival
their only choreographer.
Copyright © Robert Sturgill | Year Posted 2015
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Robert Sturgill Poem
Robert Sturgill
3 BY 8 IMAGE
1/3/2015
Separated by an ocean
the breath of the clouds overhead
brings the cold of a winter night
VISUAL 2
Copyright © Robert Sturgill | Year Posted 2015
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Robert Sturgill Poem
Once I would like to be pregnant.
I would like to be a full flower
with ripening fruit,
a religious mound,
worthy of worship and godliness.
I would like to be the drink
that nourishes a seed
or nine syllables of the oldest language
telling the ultimate story.
I would like to witness the glint of envy,
flashing like flint on flint
in other women's eyes
as they bask in my glow.
What could be better
than a queen responsible for her country
or the unblemished temple
housing the union of three bodies,
another version of the trinity:
mother, father and holy child?
Copyright © Robert Sturgill | Year Posted 2015
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