Female, But NotI paint my nails,But bind my chest.I wear pretty skirts and dresses,but wear my hair like Clark Kent.I long for a perfect body worth turning heads,but ogle at the other girls' perfect bodies.I love my hips,But love my girlfriend's more.I'm a female,But do not understand them.I'm shy around strangers,But flirt with girls I don't know.I am a woman,But am I really?
Tales Of A Time-Traveller: Entry 2~In Couplets Format~Well, dear reader, I have returned.I hope your trust in me I've earned.It works quite well, I have found,And my excitement knows no bounds.To-day, I revisited the past;I have limited time, so I'll be fast.I visited myself, circa yesterday."Unremarkable," I know you'll say.I have so much work to do,So, for today, my entry is through.When we speak again, I'll impress you.I hope your faith in me is true.Farewell, my dear faithful reader,Next time, I'll have tales of the past, but deeper.
Is Sadness Your Only Muse?I see so many poetsWho are nothing but depressed,And I think I owe itAs an issue to be addressed.Is sadness your only muse?An emotion so dank and darkPuts your poetic mind to use,While the call of the woodlarkDoes not touch your soul?What of true love or bravery?That deep, depressed dark holeHas you in poetic reverie.It is quite the strong emotion,But so is awe and loveThe salty smell of the ocean,And the call of the mourning doveAre my muse, so I cast off the robeOf sadness, darkness and despairI embrace this awe-inspiring globeFrom the cities to the wolf's lair.I have never felt true love,In my young years on this planetBut that is my muse, even aboveThat all-depressing net.A prince so young in his palace;A warrior on the front lines;A grandfather's hands so calloused;The Italians with their wines;A wolf's so haunting howl;The love of a new mother;All these things higher than sadness' scowlAnd the fear of the ther.
Tales Of A Time-Traveller: Entry 1~In Sonnet Format~Good day! I'm Darren RobinsonAnd I hail from New York State.The tale I have is quite the odd one;Very incredible and great.Please, my dear lassie or lad,Tell no-one of my invention.They'll think I've gone stark-raving madAnd give me to an institution.Such fabled thing do not existIn these times, with Victoria as Queen.What's that? You say something is amissWith my timing? I'm the maddest you've seen?How sane could an inventor be?Time Travel is possible; just wait and see!