the corner

this is a little poetry corner i decided to put up! you can submit stuff to me through email or ICQ, and i`ll put it up on here! it doesn`t have to be poetry, it can be a story, or a quote, or even a picture you drew! and you don`t gotta give yer name if you don`t want! soooo have funn! i wanna fill this section up!

(submitted by emma lee)these are my favourite lyrics ever
i'm sensitive

i was thinking that i might fly today / just to disprove all the things that you say /
it doesn't take a talent to be mean / your words can crush things that are unseen

so please be careful with me, i'm sensitive / and i'd like to stay that way

you always tell me that it's impossible / to be respected and be a girl /
why's it gotta be so complicated? / why you gotta tell me if i'm hated?

so please be careful with me, i'm sensitive / and i'd like to stay that way

i was thinking that it might do some good / if we robbed the cynics and took all their food /
that way what they believe will have taken place / and we can give it to people who have some faith

so please be careful with me, i'm sensitive / and i'd like to stay that way

i have this theory that if we're told we're bad / then that's the only idea we'll ever have /
but maybe if we are surrounded in beauty / someday we will become what we see /
'cause anyone can start a conflict / it's harder yet to disregard it /
i'd rather see the world from another angle / we are everyday angels /
be careful with me 'cause i'd like to stay that way

-jewel kilcher

(submitted by jessica)
Being called a girl just doesn't seem so bad anymore.
In fact, the idea of reclaiming my girlhood in all its
freshness and limitless potential is incredibly
appealing. I'm not talking here about docile, timid, self-effacing girlhood.
I'm talking about re-claiming
the girl who swung with abandon from the monkey bars,
who spent hours telling wild and creative stories into
a tape recorder, who gloried in strange costumes, who
danced in a skill-less frenzy, who wasn't afraid to
cry when upset, nor yell insults when angry.

I see that girl captured repeatedly in the black and
white images my mother caught with her Leica as she
snapped hundreds of photos throughout my childhood.
But frozen on film as well is the sulky adolescent who came after.
The one who thought girls shouldn't speak their minds for fear of ridicule or
play tennis with the speed of the boys.
I study that sullen 13-year-old face, masked in makeup and a pout,
and wonder where did the knowledge that "girls could do anything" go?
Where did the enthusiasm go? Where did the girl go?
I'm still wondering how to get her back.

imemma@imneverwrong.com