Poem 5

Day #3
I wanted to meet her again
So, I called her
She said she couldn't come
So, I did some research
I wanted to know how
I wanted to become one

Poem 4

Still Day #2
She sat there,
Drinking her tea,
And pondering
"I guess it was two years ago.
I don't really remember.
Someone was talking about it.
I'd heard of it
But I didn't know much.
Now look at me."
I looked at her
Her breasts hung were round and heavy
Skin-tanned

She didn't ooze sex-appeal

She was born with breasts

And so was I

Poem 3

Day #2
I'd asked to meet her again
She was admirable
Doing what she did
She walked in confidently
Looking the same as she had the day before
"Nice Shirt" I said repeating what I'd said the day before
"Thanks" She says this time
She sits down and I hand her a mug of tea
"So, what got you interested in nudism?" I asked her
That's what she was
A nudist

Poem 2

Still Day #1
I went up to her
Everyone looked at me funny now too
I guess that's what you get when you stick out too much
I started to talk to her
She was nice
She wasn't the kind of person other people expected
"Nice shirt." I said jokingly
She laughed a little
But she might have thought it was an insult
I reassured her that it wasn't an insult
"Teach me." I asked her.
"There's nothing to learn." She replied.
But there was something to learn
There still is

Poem 1

Day #1
Everyone else saw her too
They looked at her funny
As if she wasn't wanted
As if she was doing something wrong
As if she was if she didn't have a right to do what she was doing
Some people gave her a different kind of look
Mainly guys
But a few women did too
I just saw
Beauty
Pride
and
Acceptance
She had an open-mind
I wanted to get where she was.




There may be some editing to the poem after. This is really just a first draft.

Story in Verse

I'm writing a story in verse and I'm going to post each poem here. It's for a contest. The first one will be posted after this.

I may or may not complain in this post

Actually, I will complain. You can count on me for a few things, complaining and talking about music are two of them.
Here's something I've realized about myself: I've never been happy or sad. I've always been either really depressed or exuberant. I don't really know what that means. What does it mean to you, bloggers?
I read somewhere that if you want to have a popular blog you probably shouldn't complain too much but I don't really care. It's my blog, isn't it? I doubt not complaining will make it anymore popular.
I wrote a bunch of stuff for this blog out on paper but then, I put them in cards and I'm planning to stick them to walls and stuff for something I've started called The Card Project. I think it's pretty interesting so, please check  that link.
I'm currently listening to:

Here's what been bugging me for a bit now. Someone told me I look like Frances Bean Cobain:

 What's bothering is, I don't know if I do. I believe that people never truly know what they look like but it's just weird to get comparison because you start to wonder what other people see.
That was a bad blog entry,
Adelaide