females are very complex.Specially the human females behave irrationally and unexpectedly.
no one has ever been able to understand the female behaviour.
They are needy.
i am one. they have babies, and boobies. and the opposite of a female is a male. usually they have reproductive systems so that is how they have babies! im good at English.
Oh the female mind with its heart entwined. Her feelings and logic get all confused. And the girl goes for the guy only to get used. She thought he had feelings for her, but I guess she thought wrong. Maybe she should untangle her heart from her head, and think straight. Then things might turn out better instead.
eve birthed adam
instead of the other way around,
squeezed him
out through her lovely c u n t.
then he made up
that dumb story about the rib,
envious that he’ll
never create anything as remotely
beautiful.
Powerful. Graceful. Important. Women have the power to change the world. Eliminate smallness and demand the best. Mediocrity must be eliminated and women have the power to do this. Our influence is beyond what we imagine.
I am one myself, however, I’m not liked as often because I don’t do the typical cake makeup, winter tanning, and sleeping-with-boys-and-alcohol frenzy.
(I’m probably going to get a lot of shit for this post, but I will try not to care).
Maybe one day you’ll let me arch my back backwards and feel my spine cracking and feeling like there is no end to this freedom. Maybe one day you’ll let me be both… back archer and female.
My mother. I remember a lot of things about her. It was the way that she danced around the kitchen when she thought that no one was looking that really stuck with me. I remember hiding around the corner and watching like a nervous rabbit, just waiting to get caught.
I got nothing and everything.
I got the ‘gina, boobs and womb.
I got the pile of warm, stinky crap
that said it was an honor to bleed and bare children.
I have the visceral memory of smelling
my infants velvety head and
kissing her round belly.
I can still hear her wild baby laughter
and feel her teenage words
shred my maternal fabric.
My soul smiles as she recalls
the tango she and her beloved danced
to the delight of his family.
She is female.
Watching my best friend being able to do everything I couldn’t, everything I had always wanted to do, was never easy. He was everything I wasn’t. He was everything I wanted to be.
At times, I was awful to him. He’d have to face my irrational anger, my jealousy, even hatred. Sometimes I would look at my best friend with pure rage and hate him because he was born a boy and I wasn’t.
The female voice is not one to be reckoned with. She is strong, and determined and willful. Never cross a woman, for she could break your heart later on. She’s the one that could care for you, stroke your cheek when you’re sad or kiss the hurt away. Just respect her, that’s all she wants. And mayhaps love her too. That’d be nice.
Aw, the love of things that you cannot have or even touch. She was so gorgeous that I just could not believe her. Then she just faded away. Never to be seen by me again. My heart ached for days afterward. My mind was full of her as a vision of love that I might never have. Aw, but, I still have her in my mind.
“You’re not serious. You’re actually holding the door open for me?”
“Am I supposed to answer the question, or confirm the observation?”
“Same difference.”
“Ah, but only your acute female senses could notice that. Stunning, I say.”
And nobody really says ‘female’ anymore. Scratch that, nobody (with the exception of scientists who have recently peered at some unfortunate animal’s genitals) really ever uses the word. She, in particular, has spent years in the corporate world trying to get that to be the last thing that the men all around her notice. (The feminist-without-a-cause complex. It’s textbook these days.)
But this man. Oh, he’s chivalrous and polite. He’s gentle even as he’s closing the door again, cutting off the street noises. “Did you want to go outside?” he says, and his voice is like something solid in the auditory vacuum.
“Yeah,” she finds herself saying, “Yeah. Maybe we could grab a coffee or something.”
“Like a date?” he asks playfully, the words not crass and oily traveling down her ear canal, but emerging as some higher form of communication, between people tired of playing games even if they have gotten good with practice. “Shouldn’t the guy be the one doing the chasing and asking — the risk-taking?”
“Don’t you mean ‘male’?” she teases in return.
“I guess I do,” he says after a beat. Then he offers her the crook of his elbow, and she doesn’t even know his name and it still is the twenty-first century but she walks out of that familiar office building on a stranger’s arm thinking that around him, it’s okay to be all of who she is.
I gazed unto her perfect form like a man staring at water in the desert. Her large breasts. Her slim waist. Her large rear. Everything about her would have many a man falling over him self to make her his. And yet, all I could do was stare.
I am female.
Not just any breed.
I am powerful, smart, witty and beautiful.
I am a warrior
Strong yet gentle
Complex yet simple
kind yet assertive
I can change your mind
I am always right
I am female.
I am a female. I have breasts and a vagina. I am strong and independent and I don’t need a man. I have the ability to produce children and to feed them. I can work. I can wear heels. I have society pressuring me to be perfect and thin but that doesn’t matter to me. I can be who I want to be because of laws passed in the 20th century.
A person with a strong mind a strong motives. She’s independent and loves life. She needs no one but God to tell her how she’s doing. The life she leads is one of courage, though sometimes she falls. And sometimes shes needs someone to pick her up. She’s broken but no one sees, because she is strong and independent.
Females are women. I’m a woman. I’ve never really known what that means. Womanhood. It’s like 50% of the population. It’s huge. It’s vast. It’s such a part of your identity. It’s intimidating. There are standards, right? It’s almost daunting, this idea of womanhood. BE a woman.
I am a female. Sometimes I wonder what that means. Everyone over the course of history has had a different idea. But what if it means absolutely nothing at all? What if “male” and “female” are just pointless titles, something holding us back from just being us?
A woman. A girl. A human. A creature. Someone who cries at the most dearing moments. Someone who’s strong in the face of protection. Someone who’ll look after you if you’re ever in trouble.
Protection.
Love.
the beauty which emanates across a room, the soft glow of skin and curves and hair i want to see her be with her touch her love her. i want her to love me, this mystery woman across the room. no knowing, no conscious, fall into this stupor of scent and love and togetherness, allow me to feel the way i wish and need to feel.
More than they thought. Although no one in their right mind, in retrospect would have thought she’d be diminished. But she was. Finally, they came to their senses and saw her for what she was- mother of all. The center of the universe.
words spoken without words spoken
a crinkly laugh echoed in the hallway
“why isn’t this easier” she pondered
“how can i find that way?”
liking this train of thought
we derailed for a moment
this female and i
broken.
On the fir branch, in broad daylight, stood the snow white owl. Carson handed the binoculars to Mr Finch who had demanded to know whether it was a male or female. “See for yourself.”
Wow. What a word to start the new year. I’m not female, obviously. Even though for most of my life everyone but me thought I was. Now I’m seen by others as the man I always was inside, and that’s great.
Ich will weiblich sein!´, quängelte Hugo. Er bemerkte das Gebammel in seiner Hose es war so nervig. Er strich sich nervös durch sein Haar und dachte darüber nach, wie er endlich seinen Penis los werden konnte! Der Mann vor ihm durhbohrte ihn.
They give me one minute to write about something so small. And, here I am left lying in my bed lost, an utter disgrace, dumbfounded. To stupid to even write about something as small as a the word female. To stupid to even start until after the timer goes off. Stuck in a daze as I try to comprehend what the word, which I so commonly here, means. Lost in my shuffled, confused mind, scattered somewhere among my thoughts. Clearly I do not work well under pressure.
Females are girls and women, and I am really not in the right state of mind to write about anything right now. Except ‘female’ sounds a bit cold compared to girl, or gal, or lass, or lady.
“The female form truly was wonderful”, Jonas thought to himself. The curves of the thighs, the breasts, the whole lot just turned him from a perfectly sensible man one second, to a raging sperm bomb the next.
I don’t know why, but I have nothing to say on the subject. You would think that, me being of the same gender, I would have a lot to say defending my kind. Yet, I don’t know how I or any other human being would describe a female. They’re definitely unpredictable. But that is pretty much all I have to say for my fellow females. Sorry.
Wow. What a word to start the new year. I’m not female, obviously. Even though for most of my life everyone but me thought I was. Now I’m seen by others as the man I always was inside, and that’s great.
The world would be barren if not for the female species. our woman folk is a welcome breed indeed, and we must shower them with praise when ever we can. it is so unfortunate that our woman is abused and seen as inferior in some parts of the world. we must do all we can to show them love and respect.
There once was a girl who was a girl who liked to play with other girls. I think deep down she was a lesbian from birth but has been lying to herself her whole life. That girl is now a 20 year old girl who hangs out with boys and denies the truth even to herself. That sucks.
females are very complex.Specially the human females behave irrationally and unexpectedly.
no one has ever been able to understand the female behaviour.
They are needy.
she’s life in its most delicate most ferocious manor. she is nature’s nurturing hug. she is worthy. correction, she is life.
i am one. they have babies, and boobies. and the opposite of a female is a male. usually they have reproductive systems so that is how they have babies! im good at English.
Oh the female mind with its heart entwined. Her feelings and logic get all confused. And the girl goes for the guy only to get used. She thought he had feelings for her, but I guess she thought wrong. Maybe she should untangle her heart from her head, and think straight. Then things might turn out better instead.
eve birthed adam
instead of the other way around,
squeezed him
out through her lovely c u n t.
then he made up
that dumb story about the rib,
envious that he’ll
never create anything as remotely
beautiful.
Powerful. Graceful. Important. Women have the power to change the world. Eliminate smallness and demand the best. Mediocrity must be eliminated and women have the power to do this. Our influence is beyond what we imagine.
Females are getting worse
and worse
and WORSE
as this generation stretches out.
I am one myself, however, I’m not liked as often because I don’t do the typical cake makeup, winter tanning, and sleeping-with-boys-and-alcohol frenzy.
(I’m probably going to get a lot of shit for this post, but I will try not to care).
Maybe one day you’ll let me arch my back backwards and feel my spine cracking and feeling like there is no end to this freedom. Maybe one day you’ll let me be both… back archer and female.
My mother. I remember a lot of things about her. It was the way that she danced around the kitchen when she thought that no one was looking that really stuck with me. I remember hiding around the corner and watching like a nervous rabbit, just waiting to get caught.
I got nothing and everything.
I got the ‘gina, boobs and womb.
I got the pile of warm, stinky crap
that said it was an honor to bleed and bare children.
I have the visceral memory of smelling
my infants velvety head and
kissing her round belly.
I can still hear her wild baby laughter
and feel her teenage words
shred my maternal fabric.
My soul smiles as she recalls
the tango she and her beloved danced
to the delight of his family.
She is female.
i am a feminist
a new me in first
january morning colorist
Watching my best friend being able to do everything I couldn’t, everything I had always wanted to do, was never easy. He was everything I wasn’t. He was everything I wanted to be.
At times, I was awful to him. He’d have to face my irrational anger, my jealousy, even hatred. Sometimes I would look at my best friend with pure rage and hate him because he was born a boy and I wasn’t.
the female of the species is more deadly than the male
Do you like Kipling, Mrs Scarlet?
Sure, I’ll eat anything
The female voice is not one to be reckoned with. She is strong, and determined and willful. Never cross a woman, for she could break your heart later on. She’s the one that could care for you, stroke your cheek when you’re sad or kiss the hurt away. Just respect her, that’s all she wants. And mayhaps love her too. That’d be nice.
Aw, the love of things that you cannot have or even touch. She was so gorgeous that I just could not believe her. Then she just faded away. Never to be seen by me again. My heart ached for days afterward. My mind was full of her as a vision of love that I might never have. Aw, but, I still have her in my mind.
“You’re not serious. You’re actually holding the door open for me?”
“Am I supposed to answer the question, or confirm the observation?”
“Same difference.”
“Ah, but only your acute female senses could notice that. Stunning, I say.”
And nobody really says ‘female’ anymore. Scratch that, nobody (with the exception of scientists who have recently peered at some unfortunate animal’s genitals) really ever uses the word. She, in particular, has spent years in the corporate world trying to get that to be the last thing that the men all around her notice. (The feminist-without-a-cause complex. It’s textbook these days.)
But this man. Oh, he’s chivalrous and polite. He’s gentle even as he’s closing the door again, cutting off the street noises. “Did you want to go outside?” he says, and his voice is like something solid in the auditory vacuum.
“Yeah,” she finds herself saying, “Yeah. Maybe we could grab a coffee or something.”
“Like a date?” he asks playfully, the words not crass and oily traveling down her ear canal, but emerging as some higher form of communication, between people tired of playing games even if they have gotten good with practice. “Shouldn’t the guy be the one doing the chasing and asking — the risk-taking?”
“Don’t you mean ‘male’?” she teases in return.
“I guess I do,” he says after a beat. Then he offers her the crook of his elbow, and she doesn’t even know his name and it still is the twenty-first century but she walks out of that familiar office building on a stranger’s arm thinking that around him, it’s okay to be all of who she is.
I gazed unto her perfect form like a man staring at water in the desert. Her large breasts. Her slim waist. Her large rear. Everything about her would have many a man falling over him self to make her his. And yet, all I could do was stare.
I am female.
Not just any breed.
I am powerful, smart, witty and beautiful.
I am a warrior
Strong yet gentle
Complex yet simple
kind yet assertive
I can change your mind
I am always right
I am female.
I am a female. I have breasts and a vagina. I am strong and independent and I don’t need a man. I have the ability to produce children and to feed them. I can work. I can wear heels. I have society pressuring me to be perfect and thin but that doesn’t matter to me. I can be who I want to be because of laws passed in the 20th century.
A person with a strong mind a strong motives. She’s independent and loves life. She needs no one but God to tell her how she’s doing. The life she leads is one of courage, though sometimes she falls. And sometimes shes needs someone to pick her up. She’s broken but no one sees, because she is strong and independent.
Females are women. I’m a woman. I’ve never really known what that means. Womanhood. It’s like 50% of the population. It’s huge. It’s vast. It’s such a part of your identity. It’s intimidating. There are standards, right? It’s almost daunting, this idea of womanhood. BE a woman.
She seemed to be the very make of a woman: soft to sight and touch, smooth and sleek. The light seemed to bend around her in a glowing halo.
I am a female. Sometimes I wonder what that means. Everyone over the course of history has had a different idea. But what if it means absolutely nothing at all? What if “male” and “female” are just pointless titles, something holding us back from just being us?
A woman. A girl. A human. A creature. Someone who cries at the most dearing moments. Someone who’s strong in the face of protection. Someone who’ll look after you if you’re ever in trouble.
Protection.
Love.
the beauty which emanates across a room, the soft glow of skin and curves and hair i want to see her be with her touch her love her. i want her to love me, this mystery woman across the room. no knowing, no conscious, fall into this stupor of scent and love and togetherness, allow me to feel the way i wish and need to feel.
More than they thought. Although no one in their right mind, in retrospect would have thought she’d be diminished. But she was. Finally, they came to their senses and saw her for what she was- mother of all. The center of the universe.
the ray of sun
floating in the water
still as night
walking
hands clasped
like forever
almost at last
never
like your smile
fading
she
female
walking.
She was the strongest woman I have ever known until that day…
The female lay battered on the ground. She was bleeding. She was hurt. She was naked.
She whimpered in pain as people watched her. Unmoving.
Everyone knew what happened but because she was an unclaimed female, no one did a thing. She lay there.
Some felt bad. Some didn’t feel a thing.
words spoken without words spoken
a crinkly laugh echoed in the hallway
“why isn’t this easier” she pondered
“how can i find that way?”
liking this train of thought
we derailed for a moment
this female and i
broken.
On the fir branch, in broad daylight, stood the snow white owl. Carson handed the binoculars to Mr Finch who had demanded to know whether it was a male or female. “See for yourself.”
Wow. What a word to start the new year. I’m not female, obviously. Even though for most of my life everyone but me thought I was. Now I’m seen by others as the man I always was inside, and that’s great.
Ich will weiblich sein!´, quängelte Hugo. Er bemerkte das Gebammel in seiner Hose es war so nervig. Er strich sich nervös durch sein Haar und dachte darüber nach, wie er endlich seinen Penis los werden konnte! Der Mann vor ihm durhbohrte ihn.
They give me one minute to write about something so small. And, here I am left lying in my bed lost, an utter disgrace, dumbfounded. To stupid to even write about something as small as a the word female. To stupid to even start until after the timer goes off. Stuck in a daze as I try to comprehend what the word, which I so commonly here, means. Lost in my shuffled, confused mind, scattered somewhere among my thoughts. Clearly I do not work well under pressure.
Females are girls and women, and I am really not in the right state of mind to write about anything right now. Except ‘female’ sounds a bit cold compared to girl, or gal, or lass, or lady.
“The female form truly was wonderful”, Jonas thought to himself. The curves of the thighs, the breasts, the whole lot just turned him from a perfectly sensible man one second, to a raging sperm bomb the next.
I don’t know why, but I have nothing to say on the subject. You would think that, me being of the same gender, I would have a lot to say defending my kind. Yet, I don’t know how I or any other human being would describe a female. They’re definitely unpredictable. But that is pretty much all I have to say for my fellow females. Sorry.
Wow. What a word to start the new year. I’m not female, obviously. Even though for most of my life everyone but me thought I was. Now I’m seen by others as the man I always was inside, and that’s great.
The world would be barren if not for the female species. our woman folk is a welcome breed indeed, and we must shower them with praise when ever we can. it is so unfortunate that our woman is abused and seen as inferior in some parts of the world. we must do all we can to show them love and respect.
There once was a girl who was a girl who liked to play with other girls. I think deep down she was a lesbian from birth but has been lying to herself her whole life. That girl is now a 20 year old girl who hangs out with boys and denies the truth even to herself. That sucks.