Skip to main content

My type of woman

My Type of Woman
She stands firm,wearing a scary frown on her face, her eyes brewing fire whilst her mouth spits magma. Standing tall, carrying the weight of the world in her shoulders proud to be a woman... Just can't help but scream that she is my type of woman.

Beauty is her defination, her mind as sharp as a needle ready to prick what ever is on its way, her smile, an assasin to my respiratory system but her word distinguish her. Her body fashioned to pull me  closer to her instead her self~confidence forces me to let out a small scream yelling that, DAMN! she is  my type of woman.

An eleqount speaker she is, striding up a mountain with honey oozing out of her mouth as she fends for her wellbeing inflicting confusion in my mind as she does everything according to her uniqueness. A despiser of mediocrity who relies only on herself. A philosopher by nature,therapists by calling she delivers those around her with her angelic courage which seeks to extinguish any demonic force rising. A super woman by character she just charms the words out of me. Can't help but admit that she is my type of woman.
Telling her she is like the stars invokes anger in her bossom, as strides confidently preaching that that she is sun that light to my life. Not relying on any source of light to amaze people. Well she burns herself to produce rays that pierce the stratosphere aiming for my heart bringing warmth to my body. In excitement l shout, "You Are the Type of Woman l am looking for. Yu just but MY TYPE OF WOMAN

By SINDISANI TSHUMA

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Pasts

​From the glaring over the Horizon the scintillating star's stumbling across this tumble let the clearing son storm  closest tattered.  Remember every state that you take becomes the direction of a new day The written Stars scarring listening to dry seasons of which our life forces drown yet in the mountains shimmering bright light stained accross the rainbow shining memories  written by the young in  old, a conundrum written across the cast that stands. Little brat fly across the stars, show me new moons yet aiming for the sun something you never saw yet written by the heart. Little body remember, one and two make three, never the fourth  in the fifth came the sixth never the seventh well I  just ate something The rhythm must flow a melody clustering, rise above evil right in believing. Stone to Hell's Gate, grinding in the oven, oh self confidence tipping in stones really too young written by the ancient When I think of the past it just keeps us  the...

THE LOST SUN

THE LITTLE MAN! Stamps outdate by the same old folktales that echo morality in the face of dawn. The crowded memories bedridden to sweet melodies banging in barren islands of smoldering tales twisting to the sound of morning, fangs of desparation slowly creeping towards a dear old pal. Application of reality is a song rhymed in a mind that clatters through windows phantoming towards temporaly misplaced opinions. The journey to tommorow is written on a daily basis as the favourate echoing of the memories that dawn time. In the jungle the laws differ, a veil is cast between self with the defination of self mostly aligning with first impressions as a clown reading a book without the cover. In the desert running like dunes thoughts fumble steps in the the blown whirlwind of time, slowly yet fading reality becomes the manifestation of ink cramped in plastic sweating arousal from paper blank with imaginations to fill. Stories are best intepreted with understanding which comes after knowledge...

Once healed twice broken

You awakened by the nightmares in the morning as tired as tired as you slept yesterday. The day goes by without noticing the value of being awake. There is an empty space that can not be filled by the daily routines you set, you look at the possibilities of  better outcomes but thoughts of the good times l had with you still haunt me. I look at the mirror and wonder what defect might have caused you to harass my soul in such a manner. Looking directly in to my soul, life is sucked right of my chest and positivity  flies out through the window, right through my eyes emptiness beams from the inner self. Right when l was about to throw the towel,  there came an angel  with a cup filled with love and a ray of new hope, an inspiration for a better future with her arises the giant that had been slain in the domain of love. your life starts making sense and you past pains evaporate in heat of the new star rising in sky. You begin to anticipate going to...