Since turned SEXteen, I'm
enkindled by sensations strange:
itching, hot, but serene,
and try to seek rainbow
in my sleepless nights,
thou' scare if go outside.
Oh the problem is my sheer physique:
when my jiggly bum and
jugs are viewd,
then the wild luxury of MAN
is sprung upon me
like the buzzing bees.
And when a flirty wind tickles
my ever growing streaching shirt,
I can see their sordid fantasies
in their lusty, stinky looks,
and they call me then
a tooty fruity booty.
But I'm a bitter pill to swallow,
they surely don't know.
I must thank you for a lovely portrayal of a teenager merging with youth with its own charms and fantasies as well as the fantasies of onlookers. Just amazing stuff. Thanks.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I may change viewd to viewed when I put this in my Sept.2018 showcase of poems by PH poets of the Indian subcontinent. [oh! did I mention streaching is stretching the truth of the spelling of stretching? ? ] I bet I know WHAT stretches towards her! NO! not THAT! ! Their hands, silly. the ending made me laugh; a small laugh but laugh it WAS. bri :) thanks. I hope you are surviving comfortably enough. bri :)