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Amoy May 2019
I loved climbing trees
I use to play with the other boys in the street
Street cricket was such a treat
I would lick 6, over the neighbors yard
loud and boisterous, as the other boys
No one said anything they accepted me as a boy
I was never confused, my ego was never bruised
As I grew, I met the girl I never knew
She took over, and now he has the best view
he's not buried, we live in mutual symbiosis
escaping this worlds unjust definition of my psychosis
growing up being a Tomboy in the Caribbean/Jamaica
"Lick 6 is a cricket term"
Orion H Feb 2019
I love all of  my family
As I always have since birth
Problem is my family has
And may always see me as a Girl

My mom remembers fondly
How I used to love dressing up in pink
But now it seems to bother me,
Like my voice, when I think and speak

I’ve always been a tomBoy
In very single fond memory
I’ve hated being Sister, Small, a Girl, or Mallory
Why can’t it leave Me be

So please, I’m not your Daughter, not one of your Ladies, Sis or Girlfriend
I’m not trying to **** your loved one
Just trying to help you recognize Him
Dead name.... ughhhhhhhhhh
Welp
TD Feb 2019
If I had a trellis near my window
I’d be the first to shimmy down it.
No doubt!
Random thought blurb #randomforthewin
Masha Yurkevich Dec 2018
I'm a tomboy,
but a girl, too.
And just because
I don't show my feelings
don't mean I don't have them,
cuz I do.
I have those feelings,
just like you.
Only I'm better at hiding
them than you.
Sure,
I enjoy working on cars,
lifting tires,
playing guitars.
I can't stand doing my hair,
painting my nails,
drives me crazy, I swear.
But I'm not much different than you;
I have feelings and problems I go through.
I may be tough and have some muscles,
some knowledge in cars,
but I also have troubles.
So please don't treat me too rough,
because I like the feeling of love.
Yep, I'm a tomboy.
spiral-whirl May 2018
rockin flannels and hoodies in mid summer,
hair long, attitude sharp,
makeup? get that out of my face,
dresses ain't for me,
shorts and tops are my key,
while i may be strange,
out of the blue,
seem like one of the guys you would meet on a sport team,
not really,
what do you call something like me?
i'm a tomboy~
Christina Hale Mar 2018
Whatever poise you get out of college
I hope you come back stoic, joyful, and non-stiff
Well there's a genius in you, I know it
Tell that genius before she leaves she owes me one last freakin' kiss
Don't update your Facebook status to you miss me to let you know I still exist
I hope all the girls you plan on making out with gives you ****** on your lips
It' s about that time for you to leave and depart with your ride
I hope it rains there on your long drive
Just know that I'll be thinking about you every second of the day and every minute on the hour
Oh, what you would do to me if you knew you had this much power

Tell all the femme girls you meet
About the tomboy/girl back in your state
The tomboy/girl you used to date
The tomboy/girl who can't stand you 'til this day

There she goes off to college, she's leaving me
She's gonna forget about me
No vice versa, I think it's the other way around
You're gone, goodbye, go away
I knew you weren't here to stay
Well not with me anyway
But just remember me when you see
Those femme girls you oh so get along well with
Because I knew from the start
That this would all fall apart
Look at me, look at you
Look at them look at you
You would get along so well
Do me this, when you go away to Delaware
Away from here
This non-gay New Jersey state
Tell them all about the tomboy/girl you used to date

Tell all the femme girls you meet
About the tomboy/girl back in your state
The tomboy/girl you use to date
The tomboy/girl who can't stand you 'til this day

I know it wasn't my I don't know, I don't care, I guess, maybe, probably, eventually, ya think, you should know, whatever, shut up, *******, geek, loser, oh you're so smart
That broke us apart
So, when you go away from here
To Delaware
Away from this non-gay New Jersey state
Just tell all those straight femme like girls about the tomboy/girl you used to date

Tell all the femme girls you meet
About the tomboy/girl back in your state
The tomboy/girl you used to date
The tomboy/girl who can't stand you 'til this day
Rileigh Shanks Mar 2018
Scraped up knees
And muddy boots;
Denim overalls
And the bow she shoots.
She’s known for climbing trees
And running loose;
Facing adventure with ease,
And putting her imagination to good use.

A little girl in a Big Boy’s world,
She always knew she didn’t fit in.
Trying to be like other girls felt like wearing somebody else’s skin.
She’d tried donning dresses, tried keeping her hair softly curled,
But felt much more comfortable as a cowboy with a bottle of gin,
Or as Bilbo Baggins’ long-lost twin.

Daddy never called her “Princess”,
Never referred to her as “Doll”.
Not because He saw her as anything less–
Because He knew she wouldn’t like that at all!
She’d never been your typical “Damsel in Distress”,
Never needed a Prince to climb any tower wall.
There was never a Knight in Shining Armor who could impress–
She’d leap from the tower herself, even if it meant a painful fall!

“Princesses don’t see enough action,”
She always would insist,
“They’re prissy and boring and helpless,
And always waiting around to be kissed!
I need adventure and excitement to be my distraction.
What others think, I couldn’t care less;
I don’t need a man in order to exist!”

Daddy always knew she wasn’t like the other girls,
But that she was happy with who she was.
He never saw her differences
As any sort of flaws.
Never would he exchange her boots and flannels
For the typical lace and pearls.
She was wonderfully perfect;
Her quirks never gave Him pause.
In fact, He loved them,
Celebrating them with boisterous and adoring applause.

She would much rather be a Pirate Captain,
Sailing the seven seas,
Than a maiden dressed in satin
Who startles at the sound of a sneeze.
Her heart was that of an Elven Warrior,
Renowned for her bravery and strength.
Unlike a princess who balked in horror
When faced with a difficulty of any length.
She was made to be a Viking Hero
Who helped save her country at war,
Not a foolish damsel whose experience is zero,
And who faints at the thought of gore.
A Superhero who battles against evil
And rescues this world from certain doom
Was much more appealing than a ballerina regal
Who sits waiting for her groom.
Even a Jedi Knight who dies in battle
Was a much better fate
Than that of the Queen of a castle
Who never steps beyond her front gate.

A zombie slayer, a vampire hunter–
That’s who she was, and wanted to be!
A princess’ average luxury and luster
Didn’t fit her adventurous fantasy.
She was a unique treasure, something rarely found,
And to be clumped in with all the rest would be to see her spirit bound.
The only Princess she’d ever been
Was a Space Princess who could hold her own.
Pink was never a color she’d be willingly caught in,
And she refused to become just another “basic girl” clone.

Daddy loved her different, and held her differently.
He wanted her to know that she was cherished,
And that He was always listening intently.
He would never call her “Princess”,
For she’d feel her dreams had perished,
So instead He called her “Captain”,
Speaking to her ever-so gently.

If she wanted to be a Pirate,
She knew she was free to be.
If today she chose the life of a Paladin,
She always knew her Daddy would see.
If she desired to become a zombie-fighting tyrant,
Daddy asked if he could join her team.
He’d help her train as a bow-wielding assassin,
And push her to be the best that she could be.

He would never change her
Or make her into something she was not.
He would meet her where she was,
And by His example, she was always taught
To be comfortable with who she was, and to always be sure
That what she did was done with excellence,
And to give everything honest thought,
So the battles she fought were always for the highest cause.
Alianna Nov 2017
pH
One time when I was on acid
I climbed to the top of a mountain
And mimicked the trees
Danced in the breeze
Colors pulsing from the roots to the leaves
Everything breathes
Has a purpose to be
A choir of soft voices
Whispers inaudibly
The hums are enough to comfort me
They keep me warm on this balcony
Bird's eye witness to the souls of the young
The jovial
The sprung
fighting for fun
They entertain me
But like all pups
still in training
They sleep too long, play too much,
Bite too hard, drink too much
Can I join the club?
Hannah Mar 2017
I remember the first time
that I was called pretty.
I was eight years old.
I remember feeling
a bubble of insecurity
hover around me,
like an ant
under a microscope.
At eight years old,
I had experienced
my very first wave
of expectations of women
in a male dominated society.
I had no idea
that would be the first
of many by the time
I reached womanhood.
I was just a child.
I loved playing in the dirt,
and capturing bull frogs.
I was a girl
who played like a boy.
I never thought I was pretty,
not because I had
low self esteem,
but because
I was eight years old.
I was to young
to have pretty
wrapped up in my identity.
Fast forward
eight more years.
I am sixteen now.
I am no longer
playing in the dirt,
or capturing bull frogs.
I am painting my nails
bright pink,
and dying my hair
every two weeks.
I am trying to be pretty.
I am no longer
feeling the bubble of insecurity.
I am living in it
twenty four seven.
I am always concerned
with how I look,
how I act,
and what I say.
I am a girl
who is no longer a tomboy.
I am just a girl.
I no longer know
who I am,
because I am
not allowed
to be who I am.
I am expected
to sit quietly
in the corner,
straightening my hair,
perfecting my makeup,
so that a boy
who loves my body
can tell me he loves me,
and make me his wife.
Fast forward
4 more years.
I am twenty now.
I am numb
to the insecurity.
I am now expected
to live in a suburb,
raise three kids,
clean the house,
love my husband,
and my white picket fence.
I am just another girl
who is seen as pretty.
I am living a lifeless life.
I am at a crossroads
to either stay down
under the weight
of societies expectations,
or burn my picket fence
right down to the ground.
I am remembering
that tomboy I was
before I was called pretty.
I can either reconnect
with her fierceness,
or hide beyond a mask
of beige concealer.
I can either be a dove,
or I can be a phoenix.
I think
the choice is obvious.
~ tomboy ~
Breeze-Mist Jan 2017
When I was a small child
I was no lady fair and mild
I was the princess of the wild
As by tree climbing I was beguiled

I didn't like pink princess sets
Sports were something I couldn't get
I climbed everywhere, even playgrounds that were wet
And I loved proving kids wrong on a bet

As I grew into the girl I became
Some things changed, some stayed the same
I love all sorts of clothes, made for both gents and dames
And my boyish reaction to crushes is still my bane
Some girls rub a guy's arm. I fold an origami swan, try to secretly drop it in his backpack, and walk out of the classroom with the bell without checking to see wether I was successful or not.
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