Four Poems

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Four Poems
by Jane and Andrea Austen

How Do You Love Me?

How do you love me? Let me count the ways.
You love me in a slip and corset and dress
My heart may reach, when feeling so much less
For the likeness of man but being fair of face!
You love me to the beginning of everyday's
Most gossamer need, by sun and moonlight.
You love me freely, as a girl in your sight...
You love me purely, as your adorable girl...
You love me with the passion put to use
In my new form, and lose my childhood's self.
You love me with a love I am glad you chose
No longer man–You love me as your wife
Smiles, tears, with garters and hose...
Ah...to be a girl...oh what a life!.


Just Love

Yet, love, just love, is wonderful indeed
Finally accepted; our true selves are bright
No longer rejected but seen in an equal light
Leaps for joy like a dancing reed:
And love is the wind. And when I say at need
We love . . . pay heed . . .We love without fear
I stand transfigured, hopeful as you draw near,
Aware of the pride that beams from my face
no disgrace toward you. There's no shame
In love, when love the basest of name
Who love God, God accepts while loving, yes
And what I feel knowing He loves, I confess
Of what I am may not be how others perceive
Yet even as I am His child I may yet receive...


For My Dear and Loving Wife

If ever two were one, then surely we do.
If ever woman were lov'd by wife, it's you.
If ever wife was happy and glad indeed,
With a boy as a girl, I say please heed
I prize your love more than silver or gold
since as your helpmeet and wife you behold
My love is such that torrents may not quench
Since instead of a squire I am your wench
Your love is such I can no way repay.
To be as a wife for you dear, I pray.
Then while we live, in love let us enjoy
That you realized that I'm a girl and not a boy!


Oh, for the Time

Oh, for the time when I shall dress
In my true identity,
And never care who may stop and stare,
At the clothes that cover me!
No recognition for these desires
Will ever likely be
So long as idiots, bigots and prudes,
Think they know more about me than me

So say I, and still say the same;
Still with no regrets will say–
I want to be adorned on this winsome frame
With silks and satins all day:
Heaven will ne'er contain them all
The wishes inside of me;
They still are mine please don't forget
This feminine entity.

Oh, for the time when o'er my breast
A chemise would ne'er be finer...
Oh, for the day when I shall have
No penis, but a lovely vagina!


How Do You Love Me?
Based on Sonnet 43
by Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Just Love
Based on Sonnet 10
by Elizabeth Barrett Browning

From My Dear and Loving Wife
Based on To My Dear and Loving Husband
by Anne Bradstreet

Oh, for the Time
Based on Oh for a Time When I Shall Sleep
by Emily Bronte

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Comments

I found these

really cute and kind of romantic too Andrea. Nice choices I think, I've never read the source material but I found these enjoyable.

Bailey Summers

Weekend Whimsy

Love the poems,

    Stanman
May Your Light Forever Shine
    Stanman
May Your Light Forever Shine

These are really great.

These are the wishes and thoughts of every transgendered person. Thank you for sharing.

"With confidence and forbearance, we will have the strength to move forward."

Love & hugs,
Barbara

"If I have to be this girl in me, Then I have the right to be."

"With confidence and forbearance, we will have the strength to move forward."

Love & hugs,
Barbara

"If I have to be this girl in me, Then I have the right to be."

These are beautiful poems

but I think I sense a little bit of the bitter mixed in the sweet. Hugs hon.

"Treat everyone you meet as though they had a sign on them that said "Fragile, under construction"

dorothycolleen

DogSig.png

What a Beautiful Way With Words You Have

littlerocksilver's picture

Nothing could be finer than to be in Carolina in the morning. Then there's the other version.

Portia

Portia

Well????

Andrea Lena's picture


Vagina in the Morning!

Nothing could be finer than to
play with my vagina
in the mor-a-hor-ning!
Listen to the chorus while
I play with my clitoris
in the mor-a-hor-ning.

Not Adonis but Venus...
I'm happy I've no penis.
and even with a dilator
I shoulda done this
much sooner than later

My situation was so fateful
But I couldn't be more grateful
in the mor-a-hor-ning
To some it's quite alarming
but I find it rather charming
in the mor-a-hor-ning

If I had Aladdin's Lamp
to put to the test
I'd wish for a nice
40B chest!

Nothing could be finer
than to have a nice vagina
in the mor-a-hor-ning

Vagina in the Morning
as performed by Alana Jolson


Dio vi benedica tutti
Con grande amore e di affetto
Andrea Lena

  

To be alive is to be vulnerable. Madeleine L'Engle
Love, Andrea Lena

"Ah, the classics!"

laika's picture

as Spock once said...

These aren't just glib parodies, they have a lot of heart. And colorful metaphors.

I'd love to see what you could do with Edna St. Vincent Millay's RENASCENCE,
a poem about a spiritual dark night and rebirth that if you squint at it right
could be about a different sort of transition.

Not me though. The only poetess I've been able to channel was Sylvia Plath* one time;
and with her once was scary enuff...
~~hugs, Laika
.

* MY ERSATZ PLATH PIECE: http://fictioneer.org/content/sylvia-plaths-outhouse-winter