Tuesday, September 2, 2014

New Muse Acquired!

The Gateway to Wonderland

You sit there,
Situated carefully,
On the side
Of a rabbit hole.

Your legs dangle freely
Into the dark abyss
Which swallows the soles
Of your feet.

Your mind fills
With intrigue
About the depth and
Wonders held within.

Be careful, my inquisitive mate.
There is no bottom to catch you.
You will never stop falling.
And I don’t own a catcher’s mitt.

So you balance,
Perched thoughtfully
Upon the edge
Of the rabbit hole.

You contemplate
Whether or not your fears
Are composed of
Justified precautions.

Is your curiosity
Strong enough
To protect you during
Your descent?

We all consider chasing
After the cream colored
Rabbit rumored to live
Among the mystery.

And, you ponder while seated,
Lost in your thoughts,
Upon the rim
Of my rabbit hole.

The unknown held
Within the confines
Of the walls
Tempts you.

The pull is strong,
But you are not yet ready
To throw your reservations
Down the hole ahead of you.

Curious.
Scared.
Turned on.
The Tri-fecta.

You see, I refuse
To lie to you,
Or anyone really,
About anything
Pertaining to my
Dwelling place.

This unique space
That currently lies
Within your reach
Is one with which
I’m quite familiar and,
Of which, I am fond.

All of the colors
You may see
When you choose
The experience
Cannot be explained,
Only witnessed.

The smells and tastes
That hang in equal tandem
Upon your most sensitive
Receptors are often times
Incomparable to your
Previous involvement.

And the sensations
Grip and pull at every inch
Of your submerged
Skin, teasing it, causing
A rising reaction to occur in
Salutation to the aggressors.

I cannot properly explain
What you will or will not hear.
As those who’ve come before
You have heard everything from
Silent, open-mouthed screams to
Growls and purrs of satisfaction.

All of that to say:
Nothing can prepare you,
Not my invitation or my warning.
The adventure begins with a choice.
So tell me, have you settled on
What will your decision be?

Copyright © 2014 Natasha Guy

Tuesday, August 12, 2014

New Author Alert!

Closed Mind: Open Heart

My dear friend Dominque Pollard has released her first book of poetry, Closed Mind: Open Heart...And All That Dangles In Between. You can purchase it here on createspace. Please welcome her into your bookcases as you did when I released my first book a few years ago. She's definitely worth the read! Congrats Ms. Pollard!


Monday, August 4, 2014

She's Gone

RIP Pastor Glenda Bolden
I will always carry you with me.


Saying Goodbye

The words never come easy in the end.
Condolences do little for the grieving souls,
And even less for our dearly departed.
Platitudes given too late to the one who left
Make the mourners smile through tears of loss.
Services linger on longer and longer
Because no one wants to say goodbye.

Maybe it’s just me, but I prefer rainy home goings.
I’d like to think that God cries with us;
Tears of sorrow for us, but tears of joy for Him.
He’s receiving a spirit that we cherished and He missed.
In my family, we tend to celebrate the life,
Striving to remember greatness, ignoring the hollow hole.
Because no one wants to say goodbye

You were a mother to many, whether we had one or not.
As First Lady, you were always elegant and graceful,
When you took your place behind the pulpit,
You always brought The Word, strong and correct.
I will never forget the way your laugh could fill entire rooms.
And all I can think to say is, “See you soon, Love.”
Because no one wants to say goodbye.

Copyright © 2014 Natasha Guy

Sunday, July 13, 2014

Guess The Writing Bug Got Me

The Flip Side

Come lay your head on my thigh
And let me stroke your head softly,
Easing your worries from your troubled
Mind and drawing meditative circles
On your scalp with my fingertips.
My thickness provides comfort.

Come rest your head on my breast
And stroke my insides strongly,
Pushing any thoughts from my chaotic
Brain and create pressure point designs
On my skin with your fingertips.
Your thickness provides pleasure.

Come confide in my strengths,
Knowing that they will always be used
As a representation of you, and never
Will they be raised against you
Because a Queen will forever protect
Her King.

Come surround me with your strength.
I’ll never be in fear of it being used
To hurt me, but rather a shelter and refuge,
Always there to guard me from danger
Because My King will forever defend
His Queen.

Copyright © 2014 Natasha Guy

Saturday, July 12, 2014

A Couple Recent Ones

Coffee Shop Haiku

Windy city blues.
This isn’t Chicago though.
Yet still, the breeze blows.

Cracks in the sidewalks
Give way to the earth beneath
Fighting to be free.

Plants purposely put
Between cold marble walls to
Introduce nature.

Green leaves reminding
Dark souls that there are reasons
To still keep breathing.

Trapped inside of the
Maddening monotony.
A concrete jungle.


The End

Conversations. Stale
Like week old coffee that’s been
Reheated daily.

I refuse to do
Small talk when we used to share
Real words with meaning.

Forgive me if that
Offends your fragile ego.
I don’t really care.

…not like I did then.
Now, you’re lumped in with the rest.
Connections gone bad.

Blame it on faulty
Wiring or old circuitry;
Either way, it’s dead.

And I’m not into
Necrophilia, and I
Don’t play with myself.

Copyright © 2014 Natasha Guy

Backlogged Poem #3

To The One I Love

Our frustrations seem to mirror each other,
Still reflections of one another despite the distance,
Stemming from extremely different places though.

My frustration comes from confusion and being
Blocked from clarity that I’ve requested time after time.
I’m stuck with questions that plague me without your answers.

You, on the other hand, seem to be pushing to still occupy the
Place I once said was yours, when I thought you understood,
When I thought we were feeling things on a similar level.

You cannot live in the same spot in my heart
When you continually ransack your surroundings.
I’m strong, but not wholly invincible or indestructible.

I bleed.
I cry.
I crumble.

I know that I can recover from a broken heart
And return to a state where I welcome love again.
I know because I was able to open my heart to you.

Eventually, I will be able to shift your picture
From the man I’m in love with, ruler of my heart,
To one of the man I love, a cherished friend.

Unfortunately, I’m still in limbo for now.
But I’m steadily crossing the great divide,
Towing cargo of my feelings and memories with me.

I’ll make it across and feel victorious when I do.
I’m just hoping that you won’t halt my progress
By tugging on my heart strings before I disconnect from you.

I will breathe.
I will survive.
I will love again.

As for now…
I’m still in love you.


Copyright © 2014 Natasha Guy

Backlogged Poem #2

Never Too Far

It’s three am and you can’t sleep.
Why is it that I get a text?
I have too many lingering questions.
How can you still be so ignorant?

Maybe it’s not ignorance as much as…
I don’t know, lack of caring?
Do the pained faces etching new frown lines
Make you think about the tears in your wake?

Check up on me though.
Keep that connection
To my heart.
Just in case.

I’m too busy holding myself together to
Chastise you for using me as a crutch;
Ignoring the wounds you inflict in the
Name of friendship and camaraderie.

It seems so easy for you to move on
From our last shared emotional junction.
You’ve already embarked on another journey,
Leaving me with my half of the map as a souvenir.

Keep checking on me though.
Maintain that thin connection
To my inner sanctum,
Because you never know.

And if I can keep it that way,
You’ll never know again
Just how scarred
I am, because of you.

Copyright © 2014 Natasha Guy

Someone Said Beware

I was on another site and saw someone say to never date a poet or a writer, cuz we're dangerous. I wound up writing the following poetic response:

Should I get a sign that says,
“Beware I am a poet!” and post it?
Should I come with a warning label
That describes the exact inscriptions
I may choose to write upon your heart
Or those I might place within your mind?

Where’s the fun in ruining a surprise?
Take a walk on the wild side with me.
Our journey may end sooner than later
But I assure you that it will invoke
The sweetest of memories mixed with
A cacophony of wonders greater than
You previously conceived possible.

And I guess this is where the warning
Should be placed, like the often ignored
Words on gallons of bleach bottles:
Not for human consumption.
Call poison control if ingested, 'cause…
It takes a specialist to give assistance
After you’ve tasted a poet.

Copyright © 2014 Natasha Guy

Friday, July 11, 2014

Backlogged Poem #1

SLIVERS

There are still parts of me
With your name scribbled on them.
You took them from me with
Promises of protection and care.
Now, I’ve been stripped bare,
Pieces of me missing,
Left by the way side,
Wasting in the scorching sun.

You haven’t returned them,
Even in used condition,
But just discarded them
And all of their meaning too.
You recklessly claimed inches
Of me and forgot to simply
Erase your name on your
Way out of my heart.

The loc you intertwined
With intent and attention
Now hangs as a heavy reminder.
The spot you discovered
And marked with your thumb
Is like an old brand that
Reignites with the fires of desire.
Ones you no longer choose to douse.

I’ve changed,
Acknowledged,
Cried,
Detested,
Caressed,
And exhausted myself
In efforts to regain
The territories you marked.

I’m rebuilding, little by little.
I’m surviving, stronger every day.
Soon, I’ll be whole again.
Free from your forgotten graffiti.

Copyright © 2014 Natasha Guy

Friday, May 16, 2014

Prose Piece

Decided to stretch my limits with this one. Not my typical stuff, and still needs work, but trying to branch out just a bit...

The evening news fizzles like white noise in the background as I immerse myself in the fantasy world of the sci-fi book I’m reading. I tied my hair out of my face, but yours is splayed across my lap. Absentmindedly, I pull my fingers through your locs, massaging your scalp from time to time. This is our nightly ritual. You demand a place made of flesh to rest your head and I need a break from my work. I hate the news and you aren’t fond of fiction; this is our compromise.

“Babe, raise up for me.” I wiggle the thigh beneath your head.

“Where are you going? The news isn’t over.” You don’t move.

“Well, my bladder doesn’t care. While you finish watching the horrors of the world, I’m gonna start my shower.” I slide off the couch as I talk.

“No you won’t.”

Your objection stops me mid-stride.

“Go ahead and use the bathroom, but bring my pillow back.”

I pick up the conversation again from the doorway a few minutes later. “Your pillow, huh? I could have sworn it was connected to my body, sir.” I smirk at you from my place, leaning against the doorjamb.

“Woman, did I not claim you as you claimed me? That damn body is mine as much as mine is yours. Now quit playing and come here so I can get comfortable.

Well damn. I can’t argue with that, even though I want to. So I rebel by lying down in front of you the sofa, instead of propping your head up as before.

“You must think you’re cute.”

“My man tells me I am, “ I counter, snuggling deeper against your body and adding a giggle.

“Nah, your man is wrong.”

I jerk my head toward you, smacking both of us with my hair. “Excuse me?”

“I said—“

“I heard what you said.” A fake pout graces my lips and I playfully nudge you in the ribs with my elbow.

Your hips rise as you rotate me to my back with my face to yours. One of your legs nestles between mine and your top half looms over me seductively. Goose bumps form a trail on my skin after your finger traces along the hem of my shirt thoughtfully.

My previously pursed lips can’t help but twist into a lazy smile and my eyes lower by at least fifty percent. “So my man doesn’t think I’m cute?”

“Nope. You’re absolutely breathtaking. You’re beautiful.”

My laughter interrupts your declarations.

“Hey, look at me.” Your voice takes a serious tone, accompanied by furrowed brows and fingers tipping my chin so that our eyes meet. “Listen to me and listen to me good…well.”

I smile at you correcting your grammar before I can and deliver a soft kiss to your lips. “I’m listening.”

“You are amazingly beautiful. I don’t have all of the words to paint the picture the right way, but know that I mean that with everything inside of me. Both as a wonderful soul and an attractive body, you are to be cherished.”

And with that, tears well in my eyes. Before they can fall and before I can verbally respond, your lips assault mine in a spine tingling, passionate kiss. Your mouth’s pursuit increases from convincing to punishing, revealing your hunger for me.

I answer bite for bite, moan for moan, and thirst for unyielding thirst as we both indulge in each other.

I am yours, you are mine, and we claim one another multiple times, each orgasm planting a flag on pieces of our souls. We not only claim, but tend to and take responsibility for every part we capture. Silent promises to love and protect conquered territories are issued by decree from the only ones who matter: the king and queen in attendance, ordained by the love shared between them.

Copyright © 2014 Natasha Guy