"athletic" poems
There's a girl out there.
And she's been looking for you.
Yet,
Her only problem is,
She's distracted by all these dudes.
Hot ones
Ugly ones.
Smart and stupid.
There's athletic ones
Gamer ones
And the one who acts like a kid.
She's on the verge of crying.
Her head down, almost sobbing in despair.
She sees the guys ; thinking it's you
and they constantly give her heart little tears.
You'll find her on the street
Cold
Accepting defeat.
So it's your job to guide her.
Show her you're the one shes been looking for.
But remember to make sure she's the one.
Mistake her for none.
Ask her her name.
And she'll tell you "Lost."
Jan 14, 2013
Jan 14, 2013 at 8:10 PM UTC
Does my blackness offend you?
Is my hair too curly for you?
Are my hips too wide for you?
My dark brown skin glows with all the melanin I have been gifted with.
My lucious thick hair is filled with curls that bounce with every stride I take forward, away from oppression.
My hips sway perfectly with the drums beating in the air of the Mother land.
Does my athletism bother you?
Is my intelligence too much for you?
Are my people beneath you?
My athletic feats have been studied by generations of white Americans who have hoped to find an extra ligament in my leg.
My intelligence has been the reason for many inventions all over the world.
My people will rise above , always have , always will.
My people will be given justice where it's due.
My people will be heard , just like the drums from the Mother land.
Jul 7, 2016
Jul 7, 2016 at 9:38 PM UTC
We were teammates
We suited up
We showed up
We weren't stars
But we rolled in the dirt
With the best of them
Our blood ran red
Like the rest of them
Our sweat tasted salty
As the most athletic of them
Wounds and bruises
Ached like the most
Stalwart of them
We were Bulldogs!
We anted up our
Gifts and talents to
Forge a winning season
A flair for humor
Wry observation,
Encouragement, fortitude
And intelligence were as
Valuable as speed,
Agility and strength
We all pined for the
Affection of cheerleaders,
Bandmembers and the
Adoration of fans
We equally joined
In the chorus of
locker room banter
And honored the
Confidence of camaraderie
Such intimacy bares
We endured thankless
Adversity, while wending
through anonymous toil
As brothers
We grudgingly drank
From the vile cup of defeat
And passed the chalice
Of victory among us
To share the savory
Taste of triumph
As champions
The Duke of Wellington
Said “the battle of Waterloo
Was won on the fields of Eton”
I trust my teammates and
Not forgotten friends
Tasted sweet victories of
Happiness and success
As they coursed through
Their prodigious fields of life
And at games end
I hope their heart swelled
With pride to know they were
A beloved and Valiant Bulldog
David Irving Korsh #75
BCSL Champion 1973
Rutherford Bulldogs
Well done Valiant Bulldog
God bless and Godspeed
Music Selection:
Bruce Springsteen
Thunder Road
5/5/18
Puyallup
jbm
Aug 2, 2018
Aug 2, 2018 at 2:58 PM UTC
Sometimes being unique is a hassle
When you're in a castle
Where everyone is the same
And no one's like you
There's no one to talk to
They don't know your music
Or read poetry
You don't share the money
That drips like honey from their clothes
You don't like rap
Which is readily on tap
You're not athletic
Makes you feel pathetic
You feel so alone
Unknown
They're all such clones
Same hair
Same clothes
Same likes and dislikes
What's an outsider to do?
You end up left out
In a dark corner where nothing presides
Divides you from everyone else.
Sometimes being different is a hassle
When you live in a castle
Where being different is frowned upon.
Aug 17, 2014
Aug 17, 2014 at 10:15 PM UTC
There's a difference between looking and
seeing.
You can look at me,
but I wonder more
what you see.
Brown eyes,
brown hair,
barely more than
five feet tall;
my feet are small,
as are my hands;
my teeth are straight,
thanks to braces;
shoulders been broad
since I swam,
but my figure
is much less athletic
than it used to be.
I could look
at myself
and point out
a million flaws.
My forehead is much
too big for my liking,
my cheeks are too red,
my top lip is so
skinny it barely
exists,
and, if you ask me,
my waist line
could afford
to look a little more
like my upper lip.
My looks are far from perfect.
Not saying I'm hideous,
but I don't look
in the mirror
to find
America's Next Top Model,
or anything close,
at least not until
my face is perfectly painted,
flaws concealed under
a combination
of moderately priced makeup and
a rather crafty hand.
When I look,
physical imperfections
and inadequacies
stare back at me.
My overly expressive
light brown eyes
give me an
omnipotent glance,
and they beg me to
turn away,
to close them,
to put them to sleep
so that I can
see.
When I see,
it's like a whole new me.
I'm a human being
whose physical flaws
are diminished by
an overly giving, compassionate
heart,
a brain
filled of logic & curiosity,
a chest
swollen full of
endless giggles,
a throat
storing sarcastic words mixed in with
empathetic phrases;
down within me
I see
the woman
who still at times
looks and feels
more like the girl
whose heart has been broken
too many times to count
but still, despite her
womanly pessimism,
yearns optimistically
to love again.
Within me I see
a woman with confidence
and also insecurity,
ambition and fear,
tranquility and rage,
hope and despair;
I see dreams,
wishes,
prayers,
meditation;
I see a beautifully
complex soul
trapped in a world
that begs it for
simplicity and
conformity.
I guess when I look
I only get a glimpse
of the body
that feels the need
to be perfect,
to work out a little more,
to weigh a little less,
to fix her hair the right way,
and to dress in the right clothes.
The self-conscious me
who still fears being weird,
who cares what others think,
who worries if my parents are proud.
But when I see,
out comes the woman
who says
**** the status quo,
I can't be put in a box,
I'm beautiful the way I am,
and nothing stands
between
me
and achieving
my
dreams.*
When I look,
I don't see,
but when I see,
I see me.
I feel the brim of my glasses graze my nose,
and I know,
even once I take 'em off,
my vision
is better
than ever.
Jun 25, 2014
Jun 25, 2014 at 11:59 PM UTC
Chanel No.5 fills the air.
My bleary eyes make out the outlines of a stage.
I catch sight of athletic contours of her body, gold dust covered skin shimmering under a flood of exclusivity.
Chic, Elegant with a touch of class.
All senses awakened by her salacious seductive moves.
Tassels and feathers add to sensual illusion and my eagle eyes are transfixed on her snake like movements.
Sugar **** takes centre stage!
May 19, 2015
May 19, 2015 at 3:39 PM UTC
Society, it pins us against each other;
Chubby girls are forced to hate themselves all the ads that say they are not right and that makes them cry at night. They defend themselves by calling littler girls sticks which makes those littler girls suffer;
Gays are forced to hide or "pay for the crime";
We are all separated into our own cliques where we are forced to stay.
A nerd and a **** are forced to hate one another because the athletic and genus differences. Society is cruel but its hard to keep are judgement under control.
Nov 6, 2014
Nov 6, 2014 at 8:57 PM UTC
Derartu, Haile, Tirunesh
Kenenisa, Meseret, and all
With a similar footfall!
Displaying a superb
Long-distance athletic feat
When many superstars
Awe inspiringly you beat
And as a result of it
When your sought-for
Fought-for
And nation- prayed-for
Dream proves a hit
And also with kudos
A stadium full of people opt
You to greet
And when spectators
Accord you a high five
It is for your country's flag
You immediately dive!
Also on the podium
while Ethiopia's row-wise
Green,Yellow and Red
Emblazoned flag,
Shoulder high,
Soars above
You express
Your umbilical cord-tight
National love
With tears that
Trickle down each of
Your cheek,quick.
Is it because
Reminiscent of
Each living hero
With a life sacrifice
That brought colonial
Aggression to zero?
Is it because
The bounty of the land
You grew up
Seeing first hand?
Is it because
The cherished corner
You cut in the heart of
The poor but prideful
Ethiopian neighbour?
Is it because
The unity in diversity
That showcases
Ethiopia's identity
Or citizens hospitality?
Is it because
At heart strings a tug
Or ,among others
Gratefulness to
Your iron-strong lung
When you hear
Ethiopian anthem sung?
Is it because a secret another
Deep down you harbour?
Is it because the Fertility
Hope and Sovereignty ideals
The flag advance,
Also Ethiopia's being
A beacon of independence
What is more
The nation's renaissance
Which in a curtain of mist
Before your eyes dance?
Oct 12, 2015
Oct 12, 2015 at 5:02 AM UTC
When you look at me
You instantly stereotype
My glassses
My skin color
You can probably guess I’m book smart
You’d be right
You can guess I’m introverted
You’d be semi right
You can guess I’m not naturally very athletic
You’d be right
You can guess my ethnicity
You’d probably be right
You can guess a lot of things
And there’s a high chance you’d be right for many of them
But...
What about those things,
You’d never guess?
I bet you’d never believe I was a Goalie
You probably don’t know I write poetry
I’m learning Chinese
I ran six miles in fifth grade
I enjoy acting
I’m an atheist
I have a mild obsession with Asian light novels
The list goes on...
But still,
The point here is
There’s a lot of things you don’t see
About me
About everyone
I’m just as guilty of judging as anyone else
We humans tend to categorize,
A lot
...
But,
It’s
Often
Not
True
Sep 22, 2018
Sep 22, 2018 at 7:07 PM UTC
(October 17th, 2013, I think is when I wrote this.)
There aren’t many things
that I’m good at.
I have bad grades.
I’m aware of this, but they
still insist on shouting as if
three letter F’s
determine my worth
as well as my ability.
I’m not athletic,
never been remotely decent
at sports,
picked last for soccer,
football, basketball,
and everything else,
tried to do parkour once-
however,
that hope quickly dissolved
when I discovered
that it was still nerve-wracking
for me to climb a fence.
(One of the many gifts
that comes with a severe
lack of coordination.)
I’m not a quiet person.
I don’t know
how to hold my tongue
most of the time.
So when my father’s paycheck
is cut shorter and shorter,
when he makes little enough as it is,
my stay-at-home mother
fighting her demons of
the severe depression and anxiety
that she passed down to me
as well as her (auditory) hallucinations,
her BPD,
her physical disabilities,
not making a paycheck at all,
and my school supplies
consist of 50-cent notebooks
that fall apart,
and 75-cent pens,
I get a little… “upset”.
I’ve played guitar for three years.
Sometimes, it’s what I’m best at,
playing strings of notes
and minor chords
that come together to form
beautiful harmonies-
but more often than not,
every note is sour…
Another thing I’m not good at.
But I am a writer.
People don’t pay attention
to teenagers, they say
We’re so full of ourselves,
We think we’re so important,
they say
We need to communicate,
but when we try
all they hear
is whining, and complaining.
Teenagers telling their friends
in passing conversation
that they’re suicidal,
that they hurt themselves,
just to see who will notice-
who will listen-
and of course, no one does.
Nobody notices that
teenagers are the voice
of our generation,
and our generation,
as such,
is royally ******
because nobody pays attention.
There aren’t many things
that I’m good at.
But I am a writer.
And I have
a voice,
a pen…
And paper torn
from a 50-cent notebook.
Oct 31, 2014
Oct 31, 2014 at 1:35 PM UTC
When I was thirteen, I had a running coach.
He was short, lean, and muscular.
An Italian man
with a whistle hanging around his neck,
farmer's tan, and below his black widow's peak
sat silver aviators, propped upon his shiny beak.
I ran miles and miles a day, but,
no matter how much I'd run
he never followed. He always trusted me to
stride my roads and lift my knees high
during the kick at the end of the races
against myself.
"If you want to run
you gotta drop that baggage," he'd laugh
between sips from his water bottle
as he towered over little me,
panting and red. We both stood
tall under the blazing sun.
I couldn't comprehend exactly what he meant,
I mean, I told him,
"I have ultra-light, top-of-the-line shoes,
compression shorts and athletic toes,
a hairless chest for maximum speed,
sweat running rivers down my spine,
legs that never exhaust, and,
above all, Coach,
a spirit that can move mountains." His response,
silence and a smirk.
Who was he to teach me about running?
"You're weighing yourself down boy,
you gotta drop that baggage."
It was his motto for me
every time my time would increase,
because, you see, when running,
increase is bad. Except for hills.
I can still hear his voice in my head,
"Uphill, increase exertion."
He never ran with me, he just told me to go.
He showed me the route and I did as expected,
six days a week, sometimes three miles, sometimes ten,
day after day, again and again,
shoulders hunched and me out of breath,
"runners high," they called it.
I hated running, I hated my coach,
I didn't understand why
anyone would want run to anywhere.
Not now. Now, I love it.
It has become my hobby, a specialty
for when one grows up,
your body is built for it, and your mind
has been ready to run since junior high.
It starts as a seedling, when you're barely able to walk,
and by the time your cardiovascular system
has been assaulted by packs of tobacco
and rolled marijuana, it blooms green.
That's when you realize:
Running is easy.
And coaching?
Don't even get me started on how easy that is.
Aug 17, 2012
Aug 17, 2012 at 1:12 PM UTC
I hope to meet a hiking goddess
Maybe when I go to Yosemite
In my dreams
She has similar interests as I do
She enjoys history and philosophy
She is fit
And has a powerful
And athletic body
She can even squat more than me
In my fantasy
And with those powerful legs
Can easily pin me down
We hike the trails together
And at night
I give her oral pleasure
For hours on end
What a way to spend
A few days at Yosemite
I told her about my pledge
Of chastity
And it is so hard for me
(literally, lol)
She came equipped with many toys
And so I put on
My chastity belt
Just as she requested
She is staying in another tent
I take a peak
And see a taller
More powerful man
Caressing her with his hands!
I cry a bit inside my tent
She told me she was a ****** too
And I won't let that man
Take her virginity away
No, not ever
Not on this day
I steal her away
From that man
Virgins we will both remain
I tell her
He will just leave you
*** is a dangerous game
And so better companions
We came to be
Me providing oral pleasure
And both of us
Committed to
Our pledge of chas-ti-ty
Jul 28, 2015
Jul 28, 2015 at 4:58 PM UTC
If she wore a short skirt or dress then she was doing it to get attention from the boys.
If she wore pants,shirts or had short hair she looked just like the guys.
If she hung out with girls only and no boys then she was "too reserved like what the hell?!"
If she hung out with boys alone then she was "doing it" with all men.
If she liked to play sports she was laughed upon and told to go work in the kitchen.
If she wasn't athletic then she was a 'typical girl, too feminine'.
If she was incredibly successful and a total boss,
she had apparently slept her way to the top.
If she was strong then she was called unemotional "like do you not have feelings?!"
If she was sensitive then that was just the "menstrual mood swings."
If her clothes were revealing then she was just "asking for it."
If she was all covered up then "girl loosen up a little bit."
Like in this society there was no way she could win, she was always wrong.
She was either very shy and quiet or just too loud.
She was either just another girl or helpless and worthless,
Or some kind of *** object.
Good thing she was stronger than all of them.
Good thing she rose up despite the crap they said.
Good thing she was made of fire.
Good thing nothing they said touched her for she was a fighter.
May 12, 2019
May 12, 2019 at 12:17 PM UTC
bow tie and collars
nice pair of suspenders
buzzcut and braid
wanna get laid?
sex-tuned world
labels all swirled
high level of confusion
doubt and frustration
all the stigma about
sexuality gender who you are
we tell you where you fit
labels aplenty
let me name many
**** *** thot, *****
these and much much more
***** ***** and traitor
see you all later
******* druggie, and ****
nerd, geek, emo, goth
**** ****** loner
crackhead and stoner
athletic and pretty
simple or ****
labels aplenty
go on, take your pick
May 3, 2016
May 3, 2016 at 9:14 AM UTC
we walk with faces to the sky
the goddesses on earth
our words from a breathless heartsigh
we appear with old grecian beauty
and not such modern masks
it comes in hand with our ancient virtues
true to our everlasting tasks
hera; dark curls and flaming passion
striking down all who cross her
thin and wary is she
artemis; earthy flesh and midnight coils
gentle to the wild and bow-weilding
athletic and kind is she
demeter; flaxen tresses and tenderness
protecting her wards
mothering and calm is she
athena; thick legs and honey hair
raising blood-soaked war flags
wise and fearless am i
Oct 10, 2016
Oct 10, 2016 at 10:35 PM UTC
I am treated
Like a useless little girl.
I'm sure a lot of women are.
For example,
When I was little,
I wanted to learn how to carve wood.
I asked my father for a pocket knife.
He told me,
"No. You are too little and fragile.
You might hurt yourself."
I agreed. I was small.
But my brother,
Three years younger,
Asked the same a few months later.
And he got what he wanted.
And then,
Years later,
My brother did the same.
He was told by our mother
To chop ice in the winter.
I knew he wasn't strong enough.
He isn't athletic or strong
As I am.
I asked to do it while he did my assigned chore.
Dishes.
A "woman's chore."
My brother,
My younger,
Smaller,
Weaker brother
Said to me
"Its a big job.
I think I should do it.
You are a girl, after all."
He went and came back.
whining that it was too difficult.
I went and got it done.
Without breaking a sweat.
And then he blamed me for being sexist
And rubbing it in that i was stronger,
When I never said a word.
I just sat,
Clicking my T.V. remote.
I thought about all of the other times,
Countless times in my life when I was treated like this
My most all men in my family.
Really?
I'm the sexist one?
Mar 29, 2013
Mar 29, 2013 at 12:25 PM UTC
Because I could not draft for Ice,
it did kindly draft for me.
Does the Ice make you shiver?
does it?
Pay attention to the chill,
the chill is the most shivering fear of all.
Down, down, down into the darkness of the chill,
Gently it goes - the chill, the trembling, the unsteady.
A thawing, however hard it tries,
Will always be Melting.
Does the thawing make you shiver?
does it?
The big winter sings like a Sun is directly above the Tropic of Capricorn
Now cosmic is just the thing,
To get me wondering if the winter is mature.
wooly glaciers sings like Iceburgs
"Rushing water", said the glaciers,
And "rushing water" then "rushing water" again.
How happy is the frozen popsicle!
Does the popsicle make you shiver?
does it?
The freezing that's really crystals,
Above all others is the frost.
Does the frost make you shiver?
does it?
Because I could not draft for Ice,
it did kindly draft for me.
Does the Ice make you shiver?
does it?
Because I could not draft for Ice,
it did kindly draft for me.
Ice, Ice, every where,
Yet not a drop to draft.
How happy is the cold surface!
Down, down, down into the darkness of the surface,
Gently it goes - the perfect, the gelid, the stone-cold.
Pay attention to the floe,
the floe is the most Dence ice mass of all.
Floe, floe, every where,
Yet not a drop to drift.
The thawing is like a gentle voice,
it tends to cause significantly.
Does the thawing make you shiver?
does it?
The athletic game that's really zany,
Above all others is the hockey.
Pause to assist, like the hockey does.
It does assist, it does draft,
Should it also induct?
Why would you think the snowfall is gradual?
the snowfall is the most sudden downfall of all.
Pause to last, like the snowfall does.
It does last, it does accumulate,
Should it also range?
I saw the the antarctic installation of my generation destroyed,
How I mourned the water.
I don't like the fact that it,
learned to reside before it knew how to flow.
You can reside, you can flow, but can you supply?
Because I could not draft for Ice,
it did kindly draft for me.
Does the Ice make you shiver?
does it?
Because I could not draft for Ice,
it did kindly draft for me.
Pause to draft, like the Ice does.
Don't belive that the snowfall is small?
the snowfall is big beyond belief.
Never forget the braggy and large-scale snowfall.
Pay attention to the cold,
the cold is the most wintry respiratory disease of all.
Are you upset by how springlike it is?
Does it tear you apart to see the cold so frozen?
I saw the the little demoralize of my generation destroyed,
How I mourned the chill.
Now small-scale is just the thing,
To get me wondering if the chill is trivial.
An iceman, however hard it tries,
Will always be cunning.
Are you upset by how adroit it is?
Does it tear you apart to see the iceman so attractive?
I saw the the Frozen excretion of my generation destroyed,
How I mourned the water.
Never forget the sleety and unchangeable water.
Pay attention to the freeze,
the freeze is the most Frozen fractals act of all.
Does the freeze make you shiver?
does it?
Because I could not draft for Ice,
they did kindly draft for me.
Do Ice make you shiver?
do they?
Apr 8, 2018
Apr 8, 2018 at 2:53 PM UTC
Black or white,
We are all human.
Straight or gay,
We are all human.
Tall or short,
We are all human.
Small or large,
We are all human.
Republican or Democrat,
We are all human.
Smart or average,
We are all human.
Athletic or brittle,
We are all human.
Secure or insecure,
We are all human.
Outcast or accepted,
We are all human.
Society is defined by stereotypes.
We are so quick to judge.
But it shouldn't matter what we look like,
Or what our opinions are.
We are all apart of the same race:
The human race.
We may seem different,
But we really are very much alike.
We all have the same parts,
Just our own ways of expressing them.
We all struggle,
In one way or another.
Reach out your hand to a fellow human in need.
The pain is more bearable together.
We are individuals,
But we are one:
One race,
One species,
One community,
One population,
One identity.
We are one.
Jun 27, 2013
Jun 27, 2013 at 1:53 PM UTC
Dear Society,
You **** the life out of me. I can't live up to your impossible standards. I can't be pretty, skinny, athletic, smart, outgoing, and carefree all at one once. I don't wear a size 00. I'm not under 100 lbs. I mess up and I will never live up to what you want me to be. I don;t have perfect skin and hair. I don't wear the latest trends nor do I spend three hours getting dressed. I eat pizza on the weekends and have High School Musical marathons. I cry and get mad. I forget to study and fail tests here and there. I wear my favorite camp shirt all the time. I do me, not you. I will set my standards, not follow yours. I will acknowledge beauty in everyone despite their race or size. I am me and you don't own me anymore.
From,
Me
Feb 17, 2015
Feb 17, 2015 at 9:50 PM UTC
When I get too blue
I laugh at myself
pick up the leash
and take Mr. Brown to the dog park.
He shows me how
to be carefree
will jump and bark
drink a gallon of water
and lick whomever he chooses
without a worry in the world.
Everybody admires his *****
What kind of dog is that?
He’s a Rhodesian Ridgeback.
an African lion hound,
but he’s scared shitless of my cat.
what’s yours?
A Visla.
Looks like yours, only smaller.
Did you see that American Foxhound?
That s.o.b. can jump!
Yeah, too bad he can’t pay my mortgage.
The young photographer shows off
his brilliant Doberman’s latest trick –
a double backflip
catching the Frisbee ten feet high
landing on all fours.
The old lady with the blind daschund
says, “Oh, oh, isn’t he wonderful?”
She claps her hands in delight.
The canine Noah's arc show runs all day
with the entry of pugnacious Sharpeis
the arrogance of Poodles
the inscrutability of giant Malamutes.
the pride of leash-holders.
Gradually tree shadows darken the sawdust
and people start parading home,
the **** athletic girls with their boyfriends’ Shepherds
the slow old men with their greying Labradors
the lady real estate agents with their tiny Shih Tzus.
And then it’s silent
I’m the last one there
alone in the gathering dusk
still hearing echoes of joyful barks
realizing how funny it is
that so many people
look just like their dogs
but I don’t think about it,
I just marvel at all this joy.
Feb 17, 2013
Feb 17, 2013 at 6:16 PM UTC
The gilded disc flies smoothly through the air.
Glinting in the sun, it catches a gust
Of wind, rising through hands and clouds of dust.
On the run, time for a dive, does he dare?
Defender follows, two bodies ensnared
Topple through the air, and with one last ******
His fingertips meet the disc. He rolls just
Over the line, and through the air cheers tear.
The crowd storms the field in jolted frenzy
As the defenders hang their heads in shame.
His teamates lift the brave frisbee hero
Like a king who slaughtered the enemy.
Those that witnessed this great chamionship game
Saw the best display of athletic show.
Dec 24, 2009
Dec 24, 2009 at 7:56 AM UTC
Four Years.
Four years
of high school basketball:
has come to an abrupt halt.
You see, we'd swag into the locker room.
Pump up the tunes.
throw on the black air Jordan jump suits
and whip out the pre-game moves.
The three coaches walked in
We listened to the pre-game speech
Popped a couple altoids to "keep it fresh"
then slugged a bit of water
The warm up commenced
Lay-ups
Three on Two
Shooting
One more locker room run.
Jersy's on!
But right back on to the court
Where the fans anticipate.
Just a few more shots
Now one minute left
Time for the National Anthem.
"Gentlemen remove your hats."
Pre-game nerves suddenly sink in.
"Oh say can you see."
Thoughts about the game fill my mind.
I look at the crowd, and my loving team mates.
"And now for tonights starting line-up."
Names announced.
Team has last minute words
one. two. three. "swag" ....Tip-off!
We were so good.
So athletic.
A team with 8 returning seniors
we were such ballers
Conference Champs
District Champs
But we couldn't beat them
"The best team in the state."
We weren't sad about the loss though.
We were sad that we had to leave this team.
This team that we'd been with for four years.
We loved each other more than anything.
The final moments in the locker room were bittersweet.
Tears of sadness, tears of joy
We accomplished so much, but above all
It was about the memories we made together.
Mar 16, 2014
Mar 16, 2014 at 11:11 PM UTC
Some people think that they have the right
To go throughout life pointing out imperfections
Everyone has their own flaws,
But people need to think and realize: I am the perfect me
I might not be a Barbie doll
I might not have perfect hair
I know my body is not ideal
Sometimes it just isn’t fair
I might not be the brightest girl
Sometimes I struggle in school
I might not be Valedictorian
But I’m sure not a fool
I know I am the Perfect Me
I might not be the most athletic
Sports might just not be my thing
I won’t always get first place
But in a competition, the best is all I bring
I might not be the perfect daughter
Sometimes I speak my mind
Some days I’ll admit I’m a little lazy
But I have never gotten behind
I am the perfect me
I am not the most organized girl
Some days it’s a balancing act to get everything done
Some days it would be so easy to give up
But I know sticking to it will pay off in the long run
I am not the most valued girl
Some days it’s as if I weren’t there
I am not always the one they go to
But nevertheless they still care
I am not the most popular girl in the school
Nor do I have the favored styles
I might not have the best ideas
But with individuality by my side, I can go miles
I am the perfect me
I might not have the best self esteem
I don’t walk with my nose in the air
I will admit, your words do hurt
But I try my hardest to realize, I shouldn’t care
As you can see I have my flaws
I am not afraid to be one from the crowd
Some days I feel a bit insecure
But I have every right to be proud
Shoot me down
But I will only stand higher
Tell me I am wrong
And that I don’t belong
And I have one thing to say, I am the perfect me
Tell me? Is anyone perfect?
Does anyone have the right to judge?
I know I am far from perfect
But I will continue to stay strong
We have all either been on one side of the story
Being bullied or the bullier
And I want to ask you, what made you feel good?
About telling someone their not good enough?
-=
All of us have fought our own battles
And some of them have been lost
We have all had our bad times and struggles
But still we only stand stronger
Be a hand when someone has fallen
Be a shoulder to cry on when someone’s upset
You never know how much it can help them
Or how much they need it in the end.
I only stand stronger when you say those things
My scars only seal open wounds
They are within my sheet of armor
One that I’ll never undo
White, black, Hispanic
Blue, brown, green or hazel
Short, tall, thin, thick
We are all beautiful
Love me or hate me
Judge me or criticize
Blinded by seeing
Only what’s on the outside
Everyone in this world is imperfect,
Everyone is a shining star cocooned, ready to fly
Everyone has their own flaws, even though some want to deny,
The next time someone tries to point out your flaws, tell them, bold and strong
I am no less than the perfect me!
Jun 24, 2014
Jun 24, 2014 at 10:34 AM UTC
Have you ever been to a sporting event ladies
Perhaps track or football
Where you got to watch powerful men compete
Did you watch the men at track practice
Their shirts off
Bodies glistening in the sun
Rock hard abs
Powerful chests
Strong powerful legs
And tight buttocks
You watch him throw the javelin
The javelin is like a symbol
Of his powerful male member
Do you want to run your hands on his powerful body?
You begin to massage your inner thigh
There is a cool breeze blowing
You spread your legs slightly
As the wind rushes up your skirt
You didn't wear ******* to this practice
It's time to return to your dorm
And fantasize about him
While you explore with your *** toys
Sep 21, 2014
Sep 21, 2014 at 11:21 AM UTC
I am slowly liking him.
A friend whom I just met.
I was caught off guard.
His aura is so different.
He's funny and cute.
He hates how loud is my voice
Then he covers my mouth.
He's athletic.
I was impressed with his background.
He looks so strong.
But weak inside.
I wanna take care of him.
I wanna fall in love with him.
But I can't.
I must refrain.
I might fall for him
And that would be so painful.
Too much risk.
Too much pain, I can't handle.
Sep 3, 2015
Sep 3, 2015 at 8:27 AM UTC