"curvier" poems - Hello Poetry

In the world of lines and curves, I was questioned at the doorstep, "Are you a line or a curve?", I decided I was a curve, and they let me in in the group of curves. Somebody asked, "Why is your curve not curvier? You must go to the lines instead." I said, "Fair enough", and moved over to the group of lines. Somebody said again, "You are too crooked to be a line. Go away!" Disappointed, I realized I had nowhere to go. There was no group for me. I was a curvy, crooked line. I was a ****** Then, Along came a curve, and a line, They were curious of what it would mean to push their boundaries. So I asked them to hold hands. And suddenly I realized I was not alone. I held their hands too, and we were transformed, We wriggled and jiggled, and broke our molds, And formed a perfect circle. From our imperfections. Now I belonged somewhere. And I am not a ****** anymore.

0

Sep 12, 2018

Sep 12, 2018 at 10:46 PM UTC

spruhadhamange

******

In the world of lines and curves, I was questioned at the doorstep, "Are you a line or a curve?", I decided I was a curve, and they let me in in the group of curves. Somebody asked, "Why is your curve not curvier? You must go to the lines instead." I said, "Fair enough", and moved over to the group of lines. Somebody said again, "You are too crooked to be a line. Go away!" Disappointed, I realized I had nowhere to go. There was no group for me. I was a curvy, crooked line. I was a ****** Then, Along came a curve, and a line, They were curious of what it would mean to push their boundaries. So I asked them to hold hands. And suddenly I realized I was not alone. I held their hands too, and we were transformed, We wriggled and jiggled, and broke our molds, And formed a perfect circle. From our imperfections. Now I belonged somewhere. And I am not a ****** anymore.

21

I was born premature I came out tiny, skinny, A whopping 3 pounds and whatever ounces My parents told me they didn't expect me to have full use of my lungs But I did Premature babies don't grow very quickly in early childhood But I don't think I ever saw that I mean I always knew I was small But I never realized how small Looking back at all the pictures of me, I was always the smallest, skinniest, and shortest kid around The boys would scoop me up and carry me down the halls, But not in the cute princess way It was more of tossing around a toy And I'd sit there kicking the hell out of them screaming to put me down But it never occurred to me there was a reason I was so small It was fourth grade and I weighed a whopping 47 pounds, the boys still carried me off, and I still didn't take it Turns out, puberty wouldn't hit me like it would hit all the other girls In fact, there wasn't even a need for my mom to have "the talk" with me In fact, at seventh grade I didn't know what the hell a period was I didn't even where bras. In fact the first day of high school I wasn't wearing a bra! And I cried the first day when I realized that holy **** everyone had bras on and I didn't even own one And to my dismay I realized my mom had actually bought my little sister bras, but I didn't have any And I was the point of interest at hushed family get togethers Hearing hushed conversations like Poor baby, it obviously won't happen any time soon Im sure she will catch up And I certainly didn't realize why my little sister was taller than me, bigger than me, and now curvier than me! That was my job ****** And my favorite was when my mom introduced us to friends and they would always ask my younger sister how high school was and I would have to interrupt and say "Hi I'm the oldest actually" I never thought it to do with the timing of my birth But now I'm discovering that it turns out preemies are at high risk for physical developmental problems, learning disabilities (especially with math), ADHD, depression, psychosis, and anxiety in the teenage years And much more likely if the birth weight was under 4 pounds! (Me) But just like when I was four and the boys carried me and took turns lifting me off my feet I won't let it stop me I won't let it get to me Being a preemie is tough. Especially when you were born as early as I was, and as small as I was I'll always look younger, I'll never look my own age, and I'll never be very curvy, But I guess that's just something to add to the list of things that are supposed to hold me back. I won't let them

0

Mar 14, 2016

Mar 14, 2016 at 2:21 AM UTC

RJB

Preemie

I was born premature I came out tiny, skinny, A whopping 3 pounds and whatever ounces My parents told me they didn't expect me to have full use of my lungs But I did Premature babies don't grow very quickly in early childhood But I don't think I ever saw that I mean I always knew I was small But I never realized how small Looking back at all the pictures of me, I was always the smallest, skinniest, and shortest kid around The boys would scoop me up and carry me down the halls, But not in the cute princess way It was more of tossing around a toy And I'd sit there kicking the hell out of them screaming to put me down But it never occurred to me there was a reason I was so small It was fourth grade and I weighed a whopping 47 pounds, the boys still carried me off, and I still didn't take it Turns out, puberty wouldn't hit me like it would hit all the other girls In fact, there wasn't even a need for my mom to have "the talk" with me In fact, at seventh grade I didn't know what the hell a period was I didn't even where bras. In fact the first day of high school I wasn't wearing a bra! And I cried the first day when I realized that holy **** everyone had bras on and I didn't even own one And to my dismay I realized my mom had actually bought my little sister bras, but I didn't have any And I was the point of interest at hushed family get togethers Hearing hushed conversations like Poor baby, it obviously won't happen any time soon Im sure she will catch up And I certainly didn't realize why my little sister was taller than me, bigger than me, and now curvier than me! That was my job ****** And my favorite was when my mom introduced us to friends and they would always ask my younger sister how high school was and I would have to interrupt and say "Hi I'm the oldest actually" I never thought it to do with the timing of my birth But now I'm discovering that it turns out preemies are at high risk for physical developmental problems, learning disabilities (especially with math), ADHD, depression, psychosis, and anxiety in the teenage years And much more likely if the birth weight was under 4 pounds! (Me) But just like when I was four and the boys carried me and took turns lifting me off my feet I won't let it stop me I won't let it get to me Being a preemie is tough. Especially when you were born as early as I was, and as small as I was I'll always look younger, I'll never look my own age, and I'll never be very curvy, But I guess that's just something to add to the list of things that are supposed to hold me back. I won't let them

42

good lighting made me look curvier like shadows i felt each edge of my body hide away from boys that like to see the soft side i didn't think i had. my small A cup ***** looked like a solid C if you made the light dim enough to an angle just perfect enough to create an illusion. confusion as to why you undressed me i turned out to be such a disappointment. a hefty price tag made me more valuable if as if patterned cloths weren't enough. now my fingers turn as green as the cash i blew from these rings that won't come off or the necklace suffocating my desperate screams for beauty and acceptance in a world so based off eyes, then personality. longer hair made me more easier to hold on to for each and every boy that has pulled it this way and that just to get me in the right light or mood. as a mouth piece with no voice or a head with no brain or a soul with no emotion; i was an easy void. and as that void i filled it with dying futures. every night screaming to be eye candy for those who could care less of what my favorite color was or my last name. comparing myself to other perfectionist out there that must have mastered it all from day one. mixing potions to stay thick, but thin at the same time. or were born into a solid gold Chanel dress with platinum trimmings and high stilettos. so high that everyone else in the room stretches there neck just to be blessed by beauty. i've always thought about what it might be like to be seen as eye candy. for one night walk out and make heterosexual females question their sexuality and men be somewhat intimated by how i 'got it all'. but no. i sit in my room contemplating on using the eye shadow to blind me forever from staring at an image of what i am. not good enough.

0

Mar 9, 2015

Mar 9, 2015 at 1:45 AM UTC

puking-on-your-existence

insecurity issues

good lighting made me look curvier like shadows i felt each edge of my body hide away from boys that like to see the soft side i didn't think i had. my small A cup ***** looked like a solid C if you made the light dim enough to an angle just perfect enough to create an illusion. confusion as to why you undressed me i turned out to be such a disappointment. a hefty price tag made me more valuable if as if patterned cloths weren't enough. now my fingers turn as green as the cash i blew from these rings that won't come off or the necklace suffocating my desperate screams for beauty and acceptance in a world so based off eyes, then personality. longer hair made me more easier to hold on to for each and every boy that has pulled it this way and that just to get me in the right light or mood. as a mouth piece with no voice or a head with no brain or a soul with no emotion; i was an easy void. and as that void i filled it with dying futures. every night screaming to be eye candy for those who could care less of what my favorite color was or my last name. comparing myself to other perfectionist out there that must have mastered it all from day one. mixing potions to stay thick, but thin at the same time. or were born into a solid gold Chanel dress with platinum trimmings and high stilettos. so high that everyone else in the room stretches there neck just to be blessed by beauty. i've always thought about what it might be like to be seen as eye candy. for one night walk out and make heterosexual females question their sexuality and men be somewhat intimated by how i 'got it all'. but no. i sit in my room contemplating on using the eye shadow to blind me forever from staring at an image of what i am. not good enough.

7

yes, I said, I am indeed a line, a line with twists and turns; but just because I'm not a straight line doesn't justify these burns or these scars upon my wrists, the bruises by my eyes at least I've never blended in told all my 'friends' those lies - yes, I know you don't really feel it - the hatred towards my line - mine may be curvier, angular, more 'bent' than yours but that's no reason to whine at me, for imagine this, one day it might be different, changed. I could be the normal, 'straight' one and you could be the Estranged so, I said, draw your line, and be careful with your mark. for the person whose line one day crosses it may have in theirs an arc.

0

Mar 26, 2014

Mar 26, 2014 at 6:05 PM UTC

mati-w

lines

yes, I said, I am indeed a line, a line with twists and turns; but just because I'm not a straight line doesn't justify these burns or these scars upon my wrists, the bruises by my eyes at least I've never blended in told all my 'friends' those lies - yes, I know you don't really feel it - the hatred towards my line - mine may be curvier, angular, more 'bent' than yours but that's no reason to whine at me, for imagine this, one day it might be different, changed. I could be the normal, 'straight' one and you could be the Estranged so, I said, draw your line, and be careful with your mark. for the person whose line one day crosses it may have in theirs an arc.

21

he gives the two fingered salute to every 1975 chevy or white cummins with a ballcap behind the wheel, shops every place he in and says howdy to women he don't know can see him tapping nervous fingers while we in line 'cause all these people make him anxious, he look just like a buck through a scope, bristling with caution-- we're passing through penrose the back way, (an' every ways the back way) grinding up dirt roads curvier than the pipes my daddy used to snake with Tom. T. Hall preachin and he's stopping on highway exits, putting his lips to mine before I realize Hank Williams was kissing me and Roger too-- breathing in that dry groan, a voice that'd be thick as molasses if you could picture it and just as dark, slowly rollin' over the steering wheel and swimmin' up onto the dashboard the way steam curls around thin air, not as warm, though he hit you like the sun does in the winter-- gotta stand still and feel it,-- but we're still in his truck, his headlights washing out across the barren trees and barbed fences and the skies are these nice stretches of mixed paint, black and indigo speckled with impending snow or maybe saturday, all the while he keeps sayin' what? every time he catches me lookin' and all i can do is smile till he kisses me again, him and Johnny, Corb and Evan.

0

Jan 1, 2017

Jan 1, 2017 at 10:43 PM UTC

broooke

Johnny Horton was kissing me.

he gives the two fingered salute to every 1975 chevy or white cummins with a ballcap behind the wheel, shops every place he in and says howdy to women he don't know can see him tapping nervous fingers while we in line 'cause all these people make him anxious, he look just like a buck through a scope, bristling with caution-- we're passing through penrose the back way, (an' every ways the back way) grinding up dirt roads curvier than the pipes my daddy used to snake with Tom. T. Hall preachin and he's stopping on highway exits, putting his lips to mine before I realize Hank Williams was kissing me and Roger too-- breathing in that dry groan, a voice that'd be thick as molasses if you could picture it and just as dark, slowly rollin' over the steering wheel and swimmin' up onto the dashboard the way steam curls around thin air, not as warm, though he hit you like the sun does in the winter-- gotta stand still and feel it,-- but we're still in his truck, his headlights washing out across the barren trees and barbed fences and the skies are these nice stretches of mixed paint, black and indigo speckled with impending snow or maybe saturday, all the while he keeps sayin' what? every time he catches me lookin' and all i can do is smile till he kisses me again, him and Johnny, Corb and Evan.

23

If I was a little skinnier, If I was a little shorter, If I was taller, If I was stronger, If I was curvier, But what if I was less doubtful? What if I was less criticizing, Less negative, What if I was more positive, If I was happy with myself? Would I rise above, Would I learn to love myself and others, Could I spread more positivity? How hard could it be? What if we were was less doubtful within ourselves?

0

Jan 19, 2019

Jan 19, 2019 at 8:58 PM UTC

jinkiesdude

Doubtful

If I was a little skinnier, If I was a little shorter, If I was taller, If I was stronger, If I was curvier, But what if I was less doubtful? What if I was less criticizing, Less negative, What if I was more positive, If I was happy with myself? Would I rise above, Would I learn to love myself and others, Could I spread more positivity? How hard could it be? What if we were was less doubtful within ourselves?

15

Left for Goa with some trepidation, Consoled Wifi and Boss that, will resume service with renewed vigour after 17. On to the Re-Union. It's been some time since have met those guys, and there are few girls too.. Some of them I knew Some were acquaintances.. On to the Re-Union. Did not know what we would do, just a few rounds of drinks, and old memories rekindled , was all I expected. Yeah... On to the Re-Union. Arrived a day late and on to the contrary, the excitement palpitated through my rather smart phone of the party already, started. Instant messages throwing images of bonhomie and ribaldry.. Ahaa its the Re-Union. On seeing me the gang was excited as I was tha long lost shipmate, arriving from the dead.. The look of them, older and curvier, with edges given way to gentle roundels. Ample greys and ample tummies. Eyes crinkled with Laughing lines, foreheads furrowed with long worries.. Tis what happens at a Re-Union. Love just overflowed, as did the beeya, we danced away like tiny teens, each hug an acknowledgement from another battered old soul, of recognition, that I am you and you are me, not different from each otha. That I have survived and will thrive, and will not let go now...... that I have found you...

0

Jun 24, 2018

Jun 24, 2018 at 2:59 PM UTC

ajit-patel

The Re-Union Song

Left for Goa with some trepidation, Consoled Wifi and Boss that, will resume service with renewed vigour after 17. On to the Re-Union. It's been some time since have met those guys, and there are few girls too.. Some of them I knew Some were acquaintances.. On to the Re-Union. Did not know what we would do, just a few rounds of drinks, and old memories rekindled , was all I expected. Yeah... On to the Re-Union. Arrived a day late and on to the contrary, the excitement palpitated through my rather smart phone of the party already, started. Instant messages throwing images of bonhomie and ribaldry.. Ahaa its the Re-Union. On seeing me the gang was excited as I was tha long lost shipmate, arriving from the dead.. The look of them, older and curvier, with edges given way to gentle roundels. Ample greys and ample tummies. Eyes crinkled with Laughing lines, foreheads furrowed with long worries.. Tis what happens at a Re-Union. Love just overflowed, as did the beeya, we danced away like tiny teens, each hug an acknowledgement from another battered old soul, of recognition, that I am you and you are me, not different from each otha. That I have survived and will thrive, and will not let go now...... that I have found you...

45

I see how the pink of your cheeks gets richer as the corner of my lips turn curvier, So connected we are! I see how the void chambers of your heart are filled as I erupt into pieces that fit, So complete we are! I see how the bruises on your soul leave as I pour my blood on it So healed we are!

0

Sep 12, 2016

Sep 12, 2016 at 2:01 PM UTC

Gloomsays

We

I see how the pink of your cheeks gets richer as the corner of my lips turn curvier, So connected we are! I see how the void chambers of your heart are filled as I erupt into pieces that fit, So complete we are! I see how the bruises on your soul leave as I pour my blood on it So healed we are!

9