Fleeting Feelings

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It begins with a fleeting feeling
A thought sitting cross-legged,
Waiting patiently to be thought upon
And then longer you ignore,
louder the noise it creates
Tugging at your brain
from that tiny little space
Little attention-seeker thought,
trying to engage your mind

When finally you sit up and take notice
Of all the screaming going on inside
There’s an uncontrollable spasm
Rocking your nerves
And suddenly the thought courses through
With an all-consuming fire

It seeps in through veins,
right till the tips of your fingers
Immobilizing you with it’s sudden hold
Your eyes fixate on that spot on the wall
That blank space,
about three inches south of the clock

Then you’re faced with a decision
The work staring expectantly at you,
Or this idea taking form,
which you simply must verbalize
Before it curls up inwards
Like a tight, stubborn fist
That cannot be coaxed to open
In a faraway corner of your cluttered mind.

So there you are, still staring
Fingers fumbling for a pen or keyboard
Work procrastinated, “Something came up!”
And a furious scribble later:

A satisfactory quieting of your insides,
And a grin on your face
That gets wiped off,
When confronted with deadlines.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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20 thoughts on “Fleeting Feelings”

  1. That blank space below the clock is really one place that is most viewed during wee hours in office.. Remembered all those days when i have been in a similar situation.. A good one.. Reading it over again.. 👍

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  2. This has only happened to me a few times, a sudden inspiration that I am desperate to write down before it dissipates. I love the feeling and wish it would strike more often, and–yes–work does get neglected when it happens. That’s how I related to your poem, at least. I liked hearing about your inspiration from your friend’s phrase.

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