Visitors Poetry
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Visitors Poetry

Jenelle Rose,

I am still struggling in private with my cross-dressing escapades. I will never get enough courage to be honest. But as Staci I have become a poet of sorts. I know, everybody thinks they can write poetry. But I teach writing, including poetry. As Steve I have had quite a bit published. As Staci it's something totally different. I hope you enjoy.
I would be honored if you included my poetry on your web site. Can't think of a better place for it.
Staci

Cross Dressing Filly

Last night I went out on the town

While dressed up like the girls.

I pulled my nylons way up high

And from my ears hung pearls.

Mascara stretched my eye lashes,

To flirty lengths, so black.

Red lipstick graced my rosey cheeks,

Blonde ringlets teased my back.

I even felt like I belonged

While in my heels, dancing,

I turned and spun my mini skirt

Then 'cross the floor went prancing.

But trouble came, as you might guess,

When 'cross the room I saw

The little woman I had wed, she was

With my mother in law.

Now neither knew I love to dress

In skirts and things so frilly,

So t'ward the door I turned my head

And pranced out like a filly.

Too Late?

A little girl I'd love to be,

With pigtails long and brown.

With puffy sleeves on every dress

And a lipstick-painted frown.

I'm sure the boys would laugh at me,

They'd pull my hair and run.

But if I could be, for just one day,

A girl, I'd have so much fun.

I'd retire my mitt and baseball bat

And learn to paint my nails.

Then I'd bat my lashes and giggle my eyes

And run from spiders and snails.

Why did I have to be born a boy?

Was it me who chose that fate?

If so I'd like to trade my 'tough'

For 'soft' if it ain't too late.

Sex change anyone?

http://blogs.salon.com/0004766/

A sex change would be new
something really unique
but would it appropriate,
for the shy and the meek?

I might go through with it
and wear a little skirt
put on a little makeup
and hope my high-heels don't hurt

The feeling would be new
and bring me to a point of elation;
I would remark to its feelings
an' write you an evaluation

but what of me?
lost in the mold?
all because I took one too many hormones
and now my male life's gone cold?

I like being me,
but I want to be you more
I'm determined to not have my dreams
be the product of only fork-lore.

I could sit back
and not do one thing more
but I've done that for years
and not anymore.