Showing posts with label writing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label writing. Show all posts

Thursday, July 23, 2009

What do you think?

Short Circuited

Um...

Did anyone else feel that?

It crept eerily up your spine

Or was it just your mind

Playing

Tricks on you.

Sitting there sippin your poison

When something interrupts your vibe.

Not an unwanted reaction

Just not expected, when

Out of nowhere…

While your mind was somewhere

Else.

Inconspicuously

You pivot to expand

Your peripheral view

In order to encompass the one

That has already

Touched you.

This search is droning on

As you listen to song after song

But you are still distracted

Unable to place

The cause of this feeling

Not easily erased.

It still nibbles at

Your inner core

Refusing to be ignored

But where

Is the inspiration

Behind this invocation?

Still playing it cool

And trying not to drool

You spin fully

Still looking around

Eagerly.

You finally catch a glimpse

Of the back of that soul

Passing smoothly

Thru the crowd

Sending ripples

Towards you.

Are the vibrations really

Unintentional?

How can they be this

Strong and yet

The sender is

Oblivious.

What being can

Possess this magnitude

Of reaching and

Detaining you

It fills and swells your

Curiosity.

You sway to the song and try to

Follow along

The sensations calling to

Every cell in your

Body

To seek out

The source.

Suddenly your mission is terminated

By someone else in your face

And you feel assaulted

You’ve been robbed of

Distracted from

Pulled from

The spell of

An internal connection.

Copyright 2009 Natasha Guy

Wednesday, July 15, 2009

Back to writing!

No Longer Accepting Applications

I’m terminating the search.

I need a man who knows what a woman needs.

My wants will be answered when my needs are met.

The place still stands empty.

The right man will step into it without asking.

So I’m tearing up the questionnaire.

The interviews have ended.

I haven’t made a decision.

I no longer want to choose.

I’m tired.

The position is still open.

I’m no longer actively searching for the fill though.

I am complete on my own until I find my compliment.

My hand is open, not a tight fist closed.

It’s waiting patiently to be held.

I don’t want the magical swept away love.

I need one that can meet me here with two feet planted firmly on the ground.

It will grow with roots intertwined.

Strong roots being a natural occurrence.

It won’t feel forced or coerced.

The man made for the spot will not waiver.

He wants to be my rock and strength.

He sees me as his pillow and refuge.

He needs to be there.

He will know his place when he sees it vacant.

He will approach me and point to the spot.

He will say, “That’s my place and I’m here now.”

He will claim it and be a perfect fit.

He won’t be scared of my past.

He won’t be intimidated of our future.

He will stand strong.

He will simply exist.

Copyright 2009 Natasha Guy