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That is awsome, Lucinda. I just have notebooks filled with jumbled imagery of youth, loss, hope, lessons I’m trying to learn and yes, poems. Some become songs, as I often hear them to music, but there are those that feel more potent left to the written word.
Whew, that was a lot of typing, lol. Anywho, is there any poetic snippets you would like to share?
Precious Oddity
Held to the light, the shadow fades, like the veil of who I was
Against who I am, and who I want to be
There’s a tapping at the window, Weeping roses put to words
Am I missing something, I’m supposed to see?
[CHORUS]
My precious Oddity…
How can time fade, when you make it new
It’s been so long for me
I can’t remember a time, I lay in a Lover’s arms
My precious Oddity… ooo… ooo…
Unusual Union, where ice meets fire
Where Truth, is born a fiction
One part love, one part sorrow
One part Strange Addiction
[REPEAT CHORUS]
I am currently writing a multi-chapter saga in which a company has created a transition pill. As the central character, I answer an ad to this company. While my desires to change from a man to a woman are innocent enough, sinister forces are at play behind the scenes. I have written three chapters so far. The writing is descriptive and includes grapic sex, violence and drama. The violence is not gratuitous but serves to highlight social issues but also is tied to what the company is doing with the pill and me. I don’t know if TGH wishes to post stories that include graphic descriptions of sex and violence.
As an editor for TGH articles, though not very active for the moment, I am sorry to inform you that we do not publish any fiction on the site, neither on CDH.
I recommend you to check up Bigclosetr.us, a web publishing site dedicated to CD and TG fiction, with a broad range of authors and readers.
I occasionally write down a poem or a song that comes to my mind. I have published a few in Poet’s corner on CDH as well as an article about being transgender and chronically ill with Parkinson’s disease. I also write on a longer story depicting Marianne’s life and memories from birth to present day. The title of the work is ‘Marianne – The Past and Present Journey of a Transgendered Child’. After seven chapters and some 12 000 words l have just reached the years 2016/2017, when I started coming out to co-workers and family and also join Crossdresser Heaven. There is also a fictional, yet very plausible, epilogue describing Marianne’s last days and departure through the words of the aged story teller, now close to death himself and hoping to rejoin with her in heaven.
Hi DeeAnn, that is awsome!! Maybe you could post a paragraph with a link to the full article?
Sweet,
Stephanie xo
Good Day:
I attempted to yesterday, but just sort of ran out of gas. It was late and I was tired. Will try again today as I think I know what the problem was…
I don’t write poetry or songs or anything substantial, but I am working on a novel.
I felt the urge to write a story where the good guy doesn’t win in the end! The reason for this is I have been subjected to corruption in law enforcement and people in authority, and to add, my own family. So I took the three most corrupt family members and changed their names and put them up for destruction in the story. It isn’t a quick removal, I give them time to reflect on the hurt they caused, but no time to be sorry for what they’ve done. The people who have ‘abducted’ them do not work for me, nor did I order it. But those who did felt bad for what has happened to me and allowed me to face these three to let them know it’s only Karma.
I’m only on chapter 2, if you are into novels, it takes the right words to set the stage, the scene and a rich amount of drama throughout. I’m not hoping for a best seller, it’s something I do to ease my pain. I may be considered the ‘bad guy’ in the story, but I’m actually not that. I have not truly thought of a title yet, I will consider any suggestions!
I love to write and have written about 36 articles and a hundred plus forum topics for CDH over the years-many of which our current members likely haven’t seen since the site has grown so much and the volume of forum posts quickly pushes stuff to the back.. perhaps I can pick some out that someone here MIGHT find helpful or useful.
Cyn
<p dir=”ltr”>https://transgenderheaven.com/groups/writers-library/</p>
Writers forum and chat group.Budding wordsmiths and masters of intrigue
I am new here. I have been writing poetry for two years since I came out as trans. My poetry is at Branwen Drew – My Poetry. I have had one poem published in print in an anthology, New York’s Best Emerging Poets 2019: An Anthology.
Here is my most recent poem, MISSING.
I missed many things growing up,
Leaving me with many a hang-up.My mother is gone.
Can’t show her the path I am on.No mother-daughter talks.
No shopping trips and walks.I want to talk about fashion with my sister.
She will not; she still grieves for her brother.No senior prom, no slow dance, or first kiss at sixteen.
No chance to be that beautiful prom queen.No corsage pinned on me by a date,
No slow dance with a handsome classmate.Never a bridesmaid and never a bride?
Am I to be denied?Never feel the pains and joys of childbirth,
Never to feel that worth.Never a mother?
Just a father?I see a woman when I look in the mirror;
And sometimes I wonder, “Is it just a veneer?”[postquote quote=53149]
Do I write not normally? No I do not, but since 2016 I been writing a lot more about stories about me and life. There has been chats, blogs forums and other ways. I am not a fantastic writer, but I do make my point clear.Hippie
Late Night
By Alicia ArballoSometimes in the late night
With the nothing of sound
I hear the refrigerator purrMy time is here
Thoughts of loneliness
And being aloneI read of people I daydream about
“Authentic Erica”
“Adore Delano”
“Patrick Starr”
“Billy Porter”
“Brad Pitt”I’m not sure any of them
Think about things I do
Shaved legs, raised eyebrows,
Body shapers, flowing color,
Red carpet, smooth, flawless skin,
Calling out “honey!” To him.In the morning, the car radio
Will remind me where I really am,
Where I’m going.The smell of gas in my ol 98’ Honda,
Squinting to see behind the yellowed broken
Windshield
Too old for any of this.And the refrigerator purrs…..
I am not a big writer or reader I am dyslexic . Since I have come out as Bobbi I have been reading and writing a lot and doing some research . I am a fraternal opposite sex twin I have a twin sister and I all ways wondered if that might of been a factor why I was so into being a woman . If you are a twin look at transgender twin research it will blow your mind . Today I love to read and I do a little writing mostly I write about what is going on inside of me and I all ways try to get something in my writings to help someone identify with . Today my mind is open to just about any thing since I have come out and I am going to work on a poem and put it down on paper . Thank you Bobbi
I love to write poetry. I have written some poems at CDH. I try to express moods mainly.
I copy the most recent.
Wandering around
Sometimes I wonder if I exist
or if existing is of any use.
I wander through my troubles,
looking for something worthwhile.
Surely the storm will cease.
Calm always comes after tempest.
I’ll stare on the rose
so I can find the meaning of my existence.
Gisela Claudine
Here’s another old poem.
Solitude brings hope.
Loneliness condemned me,
I’m feeling like a child
who is looking for honey
and requires protection.
Helpless, she walks through a rose garden
exposed to aromas and thorns
and she watches in the distance
a dream and a fortress.
Uncertainty and danger or safety and routine.
No one has said that existence is easy.
It is facing decisions, taking on challenges,
and dare to cross the line despite fear.
Sitting by the side of the road,
loneliness condemns me
to keep on looking in the distance,
longing for dreams and fortresses.
Gisela Claudine
Reflections
From outside
DesireUneasy lines
Disconnected blur
Two reflections
One soul
One real
One a dreamTo smooth
The lines
And add color
To that little girlBreak free
To Rose red lips
Tousled hair
And wide smileTo accept that kiss
Reflected back
Longing to bask
In the light of dayTo awake
From an unceasing dream
And walk in the sun
Finally to be…~Free
Yes I write some. Here is a scene excerpt from the book I am writing, it is still in draft form so the final print will be slightly different.
**********************
Several matches later and still Samie hadn’t bumped into Marcus yet. There was only one sparing area being used now, it was for the last few matches, the finals. All the students and instructors were now sitting around the edges of the final mat, either cross legged or in a Seza posture. They were mostly huddled up engaged in hushed conversations or sitting like Samie, with a quite look of inner thoughts on their faces. The uniforms varied greatly in color and material, most were of the form fitted ones; but there were a few old school ones as well, heavy cotton that fit loose on the legs and top tied with a cloth belt, and a very rare silk Kung Fu uniform that fit almost like a simple shirt and pants. The one real consistency between everyone was that they mostly wore black belts, with just a few reds and browns mixed in.
Then an old balding Asian man wearing a simple black silk Kung Fu uniform with white toggles and no rank belt walked carefully to the center of the mat.<span class=”Apple-converted-space”> </span>His walk was odd, it seemed heavy, but with grace of a cat and he made no sound as he stepped.
<i>Definitely a person of power.</i> Samie surmised.
In a Chinese accent the old man begin to speak, “We have all seen an excellent display of Martial Arts, the eight schools were all well represented.” His speech was precise. “All who have fought have a valiant spirit and much promise of achieving the way.” He looked down at an index card he was holding. “The Tri State Collegiate Choice Semi Annual Martial Arts welcomes you to the final sparing matches.”
The old man spoke again after a slight pause.
“With out delay.” <span class=”Apple-converted-space”> </span>
Pause.
“Let us begin.”
Pause.
“Our two fighters in the first match are…”
Longer Pause.
“Samantha Brown, from college name goes here.”
<i>Me??? I knew I did well but not that well.</i><span class=”Apple-converted-space”> </span>Samie thought.
“And.” The old man continued.
Pause.
“April Saraganio, from the same school collage name goes here.”
<i>I am to spar April in the finals, oh my god.</i><span class=”Apple-converted-space”> </span>Samie sat in disbelief.
The students and instructors started to clap. As April, who was sitting across the mats and to Samie’s right, sprang from her knees and to her feet.<span class=”Apple-converted-space”> </span>Like a tigress she moved into the ring and stood at the spot indicated by one of the referees.
<i>Look at her, confident, relaxed movements.<span class=”Apple-converted-space”> </span>How am I going to fight her.</i><span class=”Apple-converted-space”> </span>Samie tried to remember April’s past sparing, tells, techniques…
Students and instructors started to look around and mutter, a few fellow students from College name goes here looked at Samie.<span class=”Apple-converted-space”> </span>Then Marcus caught her eye as he was stepping on to the mats.
“Oh!” Samie gasped.<span class=”Apple-converted-space”> </span>She stood up and a bit shakily walked on to the spot facing April. She swallowed as she looked April in the eyes, her mouth was dry.
“Are your students ready Marcus?” The old man asked.
“Ready girls?” Marcus looked at April and smiled, then he looked at Samie.
Samie nodded as everything seemed to be closing in around her; the walls and the people on edge of the mats all got blurry.
Marcus and the old man were exchanging some words that Samie did not understand, either because of her nerves or because it was in a foreign language she did not know.<span class=”Apple-converted-space”> </span>They proceeded to the side of the mats as the referee moved up next to Samie and April.
The referee begin talking.
Samie, knowing she was in trouble, started the single point focus meditation trying to calm her mind as fast as she could.<span class=”Apple-converted-space”> </span>It seemed to work as her vision started to clear and her mind emptied.
***********************
I love to write, but life being as busy as it has been its cut into writing time of stories.
My fiance has a masters degree in English and her and I have created some short stories together and it has been fun. Nothing to make money on but just lots of fun.
She has so helped me to become a better writer showing me tips and tricks on how to structure stories better as for I use to feel as though I had to define everything at the get go in order for someone to follow a story and she showed me that you can place information peppered within so that its a welcoming read that is enjoyable and doesn’t feel like your reading a story that defines everything at the beginning to then use that information later in the story to follow it.
My fiance has written professionally where she has made some money however nothing that can be shared here because its of adult romance that is beyond what this site would allow to share. Because sex sells, she wrote these in college when bored and while hoping to become an erotic romance writer.
The last story that I created with her was an interesting Choose Your Own Adventure type of book where you can decide what happens in the story, but we brought it up to her erotic romance writing and so it was rather interesting giving the reader a steamy story with multiple paths for the reader to take and able to read the book multiple times to experience all the different outcomes of the story.
We haven’t submitted this to try to get it published though as it costs a lot of money to publish. While she was in college she found a European publishing company that was cheap and had a royalty based payment system to which based on its success you could make some money and if it wasn’t a success no loss to yourself other than the time in its creation. She had some money coming in for a little while and then the money stopped flowing from it as it aged and people moved on from it as it wasn’t in the spotlight anymore of new adult reads.
My partner she hasn’t given up on being a writer and is always writing something down in hopes that it turns into something bigger and fun to write and read, and perhaps submit to make money on some day.
I finally got some material posted here! Back in March I was one of 4 lesbians who were asked to speak at an International Women’s Day event in Palm Springs. It is a video that appears in the Articles section and is titled From THERE To HERE… It is a 13 minute recap of my life and coming to realize my true gender identity. Timing information of my part is captured in the material, but I recommend viewing the entire video. It is VERY Good!
Hi girls,
I am in the process of writing, or should I say, journaling as blogs, my life’s story or journey as a trans woman. I’ve been posting my journey on my Facebook page and have decided to convert the posts to blogs that will be featured over at medium.com. From there the idea is to convert the blogs into a book.
There are so many who have no comprehension or even remote understanding of what we’ve gone through to reach this stage of our lives as trans women. I have transitioned where I work and I’ve been told that I am viewed as a role model, that my story is already out there and having a very positive effect. The thought is that my story needs to get out to more people, so that is what I’m working on.
I will keep you posted 🙂Love ya, hugs,
Lauren M
Ok Stephanie, here’s the truth about my writings. I used to write technical instructions like the kind that you get with a new product (just the good instructions, not the kind that you swear at). Usually I would be opening with something like ” Welcome to the wonderful world of Unameitbrand snowblowers” and then bla, bla, bla with important information about not grinding up your foot or your pets etc. Nothing very lyrical, but just practical. I did however write an article for TGH on how to get your swimsuit to fit perfectly so maybe that counts here.
Happy Weekend and Happy Pride Month,
Marg
With all the talk about Trans youth and the legislation to bar Trans children from getting their proper treatment, the arguments against transitioning and the BS that’s being peddled as being legitimate truth going around the 24hr News Networks and Social Networks, I wrote down this…
“I Am Trans”
by Maria G.I am me, and I am Trans.
Nobody coerced me to be Trans,
No person or book “taught” me to be Trans,
No one convinced me to be Trans,
I did not “just decide” to be Trans,
This is not some “fad” to be Trans.I shop and wear clothing aligned to my Trans identity,
because that’s what makes me feel comfortable.I elect to medically alter my body to my Trans identity,
because I need to be who I am inside, on the outside.I go to the restroom aligned with my Trans identity
to use it like everyone else does – nothing more.Whether I started early or late in life to transition,
I have always been Trans.And since I’ve always been Trans, I do what I do because:
I am trying to be authentic to myself.
I am trying to live as who I am.
I am trying to liberate myself from feeling “wrong”.
I am trying to bring happiness to myself.I do this to be a better person to myself, and to you.
I am not a deviant,
I am not “trying to pull one over” on people,
I am not living in a fantasy,
I am not trying to hurt anyone,
and I am not lying about this…I am me, and I am Trans.
I used to write a lot of poetry years ago. However, I’m finding it a struggle to think of things in a poetic way, and I struggle to organize my thoughts. Lots of emotions between work, the World’s issues, my transition, and my own struggles with self worth are taking a toll on my mind. So, inspiration and the desire to put it down on paper is few and far between.
I already posted something in this thread, and thought I’d share a couple more that I’ve written down recently – coming from times of deep depression/anxiety:
“Exist, Not Live”
by Maria G. (3/8/22)I sleep, yet I do not rest.
I open my eyes, yet see nothing.
My ears take in sound, yet I hear nothing.
My lungs take in air, yet I do not breathe.
I consume food, yet never have a meal.
I can walk, yet I go nowhere.
I can do tasks, yet I do nothing.
I have thoughts, yet I do not dream.
I can touch, yet I do not feel.
I have emotions, but do I care?
I can be with people, yet be utterly alone.I exist – yet I do not live.
========================
“No Time To Cry”
by Maria G. (4/17/22)It starts to swell
I begin to dwell
The emotions rage
And I’m stuck in a cage
I know that I’m not well.But, ’tis another day
and I must away
There’s projects to be made
And I must get paid
So Life must come what may.It hurts every day, and I want to run away,
But there’s just no time to cry.When seenne are things that are not easily seen
and believed are things not easily seen
seen things seem not easily seen
and prisms divide the lightWhen seenne are things that are not easily seen
and believed are things not easily seen
seen things seem not easily seen
and prisms divide the light.:truth;lies:
There are always an infinite
number of lies that can be told. only one truth exist.
Truth abates when lies prevail. Only one truth exists
Contradicting are your Tails can all you say be lies?
Truth be known we all have lied
Only one truth exists:When my mind reels:
The spray of white caps in the wind
brings on the smell of this thought I’m in
Motionless snapshots the mind’s eye reveal;to anywhere brings me, my soul, when my mind reels.
Sunset Candlelight memories to my delight. Candy stripes bicycles Bells-a-ringing I’m in flight.
Traveling without moving the Mind reveals my soul leaping through great folds of space, Limitless, when my mind reels.;Justice:
Justice is the name in which the flags fly on either side the judge he will try.
Public defender prosecuting attorney
do their dance paid well in the name of duty.
To their better Avail justice avades,
they pray there be more criminals today.
We all have come for the name of justice;
‘no one deserves real freedom.’
Bound in this courtroom it seems after all;
We are just us.:Burden:
Burden surrounds me
I am nothing but burden.
Happiness Escapes Me.
Be nothing but happy,
for when I am nothing,
no burden will I be.
Please, no burden be of me.: Masterpiece or Meyhem? :
Imagine if you will, the possibility to create accurate reflections of the imagination.
The expression is Vision into one’s imagination. imagination worth sharing creates an elation and individual Discovery.
But in order to share the imagination; there must be vision, and expression is your only tool.
The ability to share one’s imagination is as difficult as it is greatly fulfilling.
To share one’s discovery and to express one’s imagination (which has no limits): even a precise expression, as well as how it is interpreted, will be an inaccurate reflection of the imagination. Incomprehensible, impossible Revelations are hard to explain and are open for interpretation.
This phenomenon is usually accepted and regarded as art.
Art is the expression and/or performance of someone’s imagination, or from there-in.
Imagination increases better to expression.
Art by design,
creative production is what separates the artist from the hobbyist;
The Masterpiece from the Mayhem
:Me Mine :^ )-#-#-# ONE MORE? #-#‐#-
:Beauty:
Beauty is that which is deceitful and should be respected and awed. For that what is beautiful cares not for that wich has substance; only the substance itself.
Substance increases not to beauty; only beauty increases substance.
Can beauty have not of vanity and deceitfulnesss?
Beauty is only, when appreciated;
and deceitfulness comes when other than beauty is criticized.
A ll is vanity.
:PM
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Perhaps I’m coming to terms
with who I am.
Finally.
Having never dared to dream that someday,
I could. That someday I would.
Learn to love who I am. That despite myself, I could say, that yes I do love who I am.
That somehow I would actually prefer to be, the way I am.
Some days I could cry, from the power of how it makes me feel.
To finally believe myself when I say these things, about myself.
I am transgender, and I love it. What I feel is me, has finally broken through. No longer will I play your fucking reindeer games. I will walk where I want, without your condemnation.
Your judgment.
The shame is yours if you are unable to adjust.
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