Celebrate Life - A Poem.

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Celebrate Life.


I can look back at all of my life
And all the things I have so far done.
I can love them or I can cut them with knife,
Forgive them, or I can shoot them with gun.
Mistakes , just a few, at which I can laugh
Or shout, scream and bawl.
Learning from maybe, a number of half
We euphemistically, experience call.

I can mutter and moan
Or grumble and squeak
Give way to groan
Or full fit of pique.
Instead of all this negative voice
I look to the future
Look forward, rejoice
In my optimist nature.

No matter the life that was dealt as my hand,
I learned how the rules and the run of the cards
Could be used for the purpose to make me unmanned.
And once this had happened, this where it’s hard
Allowed me to be whom I should have been born,
Not close cropped boy, but tresses and curls
Dresses and ribbons, excitedly worn
Proclaiming the wearer a pretty young girl.

And now as an adult, I do have a choice
I am a real woman, I have found my voice
And use it to call for freedom for those
Who feel that they can’t adopt lifestyles or clothes
Normally worn by the opposite gender,
Because of society’s hidden agenda
To keep us the same as our brothers and sisters
Not changing the rules: I’m Miss now, not Mister.

Some of this nonsense, it does make me laugh
The truth, ha–they don’t know it by half,
When I go for a ride on my stable of bikes
That I’m really a naughty girl transvestite
Despite, having labia, vagina and breasts
It’s in men’s cycle clothing I’m secretly dressed
Nobody sees them, nobody cares
Nobody worries turning not hairs.

Now the purpose of this wavering rhyme -
Life is short, there isn’t much time,
Just do your thing, come hell or high water
Just make it look as if you should be or, oughta;
Stare in their eye and challenge their right
To determine just who you are, or you might.
Believe in yourself and accept what you must
And others will follow, accept you and trust,
Helping you climb up this greasiest pole
Whence at the top you may call yourself whole.

Angharad ap Gwilym. 27.12.08

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She Rocks

Angharad does it again, thanks!

Celebrate Life

Is a great poem. Thanks for the poem. It is very much like a certain character who has a pet dormouse.
May Your Light Forever Shine

May Your Light Forever Shine


Uplifted am I.
As for why,

Well, a good poem
Brings you home,

And bares the sky.
Fly high.

This is very good.

We must live the life we were given, even if that means being female in a stupid male body.

Be strong, because it is in our strength that we can heal.

Love & Hugs,


Be strong, because it is in our strength that we can heal.

Love & Hugs,


Hey don't bash the males

They have their place and a certain utility value, besides, unlike cucumbers they do not require refridgeration.

You said it, Angharad!

I'm not much of one for poetry, but I do read what is posted here, because so much of it, like this, touches something in me.

It’s not given to anyone to have no regrets; only to decide, through the choices we make, which regrets we’ll have,
David Weber – In Fury Born


It's nice to be important, but it's more important to be nice.


This touched the “spot”

I am sure the sentiments in this poem touch every one of us; they certainly did for me when Angharad read it to me over the ’phone just before she posted it, and even though it brought tears to my eyes, it raised my spirits immensely.

She knows I like it, because I told her. So this comment is just a small way of saying “Thank you” to a dear, valued and supportive friend.



“It is hard for a woman to define her feelings in language which is chiefly made by men to express theirs.” Thomas Hardy—Far from the Madding Crowd.

Cycling ...

... is the perfect vehicle for secret cross dressing. My wife and I are frequently dressed almost identically but somehow never confused as who is what. I wonder, could it be the beard ... or something else? Perhaps I should ask her to shave it off.

I would ask you all to appreciate that being a transsexual is not the only identity conflict humans experience though it is certainly an extreme one. We all struggle to find ourselves, even men and we're not all violent, unfeeling brutes as some here seem to claim. Angharad's poem also speaks to me but perhaps not quite in the way she intends.



btw I should perhaps mention that my wife cuts my hair. It may clarify the ultimate sentence in para 1 :)

Human beings will not be

Human beings will not be able to fully appreciate other human beings, or understand their behaviour properly, until they can see each one, and them selves, as a human being, not as a male, not as a female, but as a bit of both, and yet as neither.



Beverly Taff's picture

Oh Gosh!

I was playing one night on my 'puter' lonely and ill at ease, when I spotted Angharad's poem. (How the hell did I not get around to reading it years ago!!!!)
Anyway, just to say they are my sentiments exactly for I also cross-dress in my girl's triathatlon unitard purchased from ALDI's and all my cycling clobber is ladies stuff bought mostly from ALDI's.

There's a whole vein of wierd stuff in this little pecadillo for I note that others have responded in like vein.

Wierd or what.


Nice poem as well.

The Palace, Sept 4th 1.jpg

Growing old gracefully? (I doubt it.)

Beverly Taff's picture

I liked the transvestite verse!

Cos I wear girly lycra when out on my bike. Oh what fun!


Growing old disgracefully.

The Palace, Sept 4th 1.jpg

Growing old gracefully? (I doubt it.)

cyclist's picture

Just found this

Thanks to Bev's comment. Hey, my saddles are men's, as is most of my cycling clothing. Can't help that. Got some nice buffs, though....

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