Siouxsie's Space











{February 24, 2015}   So Many Shades To Choose From…

I am no prude,

And no stranger to pain.

But in intimate settings

Time and again

A faithful partner 

Who knows all your likes

And the pain you endure

(From just living your life)

Can change pain to pleasure

With a simple caress.

And to me, at least 

That’s the essence of sex. 

-sll 2/24/2015

This poem was written as a response to someone else’s poem about “50 Shades of Gray”. I’m not really one to write about sex – not because I’m a prude, but because it’s all been said before. I thought it was worth preserving, though. 

Thanks to Paul F. Lenzi from “Poesy plus Polemics” for the inspiration! 





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Long ago I had a friend who turned to roommate
SHE I could share with (even ate off of her plate)!
And oh, the mischief and fun we’d conceive!
We knew and didn’t care if it wasn’t proper or right
We roamed streets of New Orleans in the hot, humid night.

We moved several times, even out of the city
And found a small cottage, especially pretty!
We lived with my man, and boys, and pets of all breeds
We worked together, lived together, shared all that we had.
Our friendship, while rowdy, was never deemed bad.

The years whizzed past, as years often do
And I got married, she moved out, and then we did, too.
The house was not the same without her joi d’vivre.
There were years we lost touch, and found touch again
Because that is what happens, when you grow with a friend.

Our lives blurred by quickly, and I wondered if she
Knew how much I missed her, or if she was thinking of me?
One day, I called her, she seemed so much relieved.
“I’d wondered where you’d gotten to!” she squealed into the phone
(I would have called sooner, if only i’d known.)

I was worried she’d forgotten me, at best was so mired
Deep in her own life, that I’d make her tired.
When I talk with her now I just can’t believe-
It’s like she’s been with me, right here all along
If I am home singing, she’s playing the song!

My brown hair is pink now, sometimes tinged with gray
Her skin is all colors, like a magical array
Of beautiful fantasies – artwork for sleeves!
She is still pixie-like, and her talents abound!
I’d thought my friend lost, but look what we’ve found!

After twenty plus years of being away
I feel we’ve been together throughout every day.
All the time that’s passed by, I cannot but grieve
For the time that we’ve missed, all the secrets not shared–
All those times I didn’t pick up phone, because I was scared.

It’s amazing to me, we’ve started right where we were
And things between us are just as I’d prefer.
I’m surprised and I’m happy, no cause to grieve–
Because we have managed to not grow apart.
And that she’s retained such a large piece of my heart.

Thank you, Kristine, my beautiful mate
Our times together have been no less than great!
And while I would wish for more quantity
The fact you are you, and still are my friend,
that the Autumn Rose the branch from which all of this stemmed–

Is a source, to me, of constant delight.
So, one day soon, I fear you just might
Hear a knock in your door, and open to see
I’ve sought you out to spend my leisure time
With my very good friend, who’s been on my mind.

-sll
2/22/2015
2:42 am

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{February 20, 2015}   Now I Am the Evil Queen

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When I was young I had pretty dreams
But seldom are things the way that they seem.
Visions of a handsome prince, on a dark horse
With kindness, and wisdom, who loved me (of course).

I found him, he loves me, he believes in my heart
I work, and I smile, try playing the part-
I hide from my prince, my hero, my knight
So as not to make him aware of my plight.

I honestly do try, and don’t comprehend
Why my pain and soulsickness still have no end.
How does he remain so steadfast and true
When he can’t really help me, knows not what to do?

Here I am trying to make myself worth
All the trouble he’s been through since he learned of my birth.
Still he holds on and emboldens my fight-
In my mind I know he deserves better (it’s not right).

He keeps on with the saving, and trying so hard
He really must love me, because you can’t disregard
The fact that a prince rescues royalty, and see?
My poor prince sought his equal, and found only me.

I’ll keep on trying, and pretending and then
It’s possible there will come a time when
I will deserve him and hold my head high
Until then I wait, still living a lie.

But because I love him with all of my soul,
keeping this secret must remain my goal
So he doesn’t give way, because then we would part
And he would be gone, taking with him my heart.

-sll
2/20/2015
7:51 pm



{February 18, 2015}   Humming My Hopes

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Today is the day
I get out of my own head.
I will not be stagnant
I’d rather be dead.

I will go outside
Commune with my muse
And possibly dance
And maybe croon the blues.

Things will go smoothly
Because I will demand
Something accomplished
With my heart and my hands.

And if I fall short
Of my goal to be brave
I will start again tomorrow
And not be a slave–

To the conventions and beats
Of the drum I’m not drumming
And the tune in my head
Will come out as humming,

Which will turn into dance,
Then a full fledged song
And that, my dear friend
Was my plan all along.

-sll
2/18/2015
9:45 am



{February 14, 2015}   Daddy overseas

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You were deployed
I was a babe
You returned
I knew you not.

But I was two,
Forty plus now.
I love you, daddy,
I’m sorry I forgot.

(for my dad, who I called “that man” for over a year when he returned.)

~sll
2/13/2015
11:10 pm



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Today, a doctor told me
That it may be advisable
For me to go somewhere
“For a few days”
To
Rest.

“Mental exhaustion”
Brought on by physical pain.
That was her diagnosis.
After 15 years?
Really?

Seems like I was more
Exhausted when my kids
Were babies,
But I’m no doctor.

I politely declined her
Invitation to a straight jacket.
And spent the rest of the day
Crying.
And sleeping.

But mostly, crying.

NOW I’m exhausted.
I don’t believe that
I’m crazy.
(And I don’t think SHE
Believes it, either
.)

But, after so long,
It may be possible
That I’m exhausting HER.
She can’t help,
And she HAS tried.

All that’s left is to
Grasp at straws.
And gods know,
My head is full of THAT.
So–

Now,
I am resting.
Not well,
Not happily.
But I’m doing it.

I would rather listen
To my son play music,
Or tell me about new games.
Hear my daughter rant
and tootle her flute.

Or my other son yell
At League of Legends
And play trombone.
And if you have ever listened
To trombone scales –

You KNOW that
Means I would rather do
ANYTHING.
(Enforced rest
Is stressful.
)

I want to go to a concert
And dance until I fall down.
Sing at the top of my lungs
Until someone asks me
To
Quiet
Down.

But lying here,
Doing nothing.
It WILL
Be the thing that drives me
Over
The
Edge.

I miss me.
I wonder where
I’ve gotten to.
If you see me,
Let me know.

~sll
2/11/2015

With sincere apologies to everyone who depends on me, and to my doctor, who I actually love like an old friend…



{February 8, 2015}   My Life Married to a House

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I’m staring at
(Yet another)
Blank page.
Wishing for something
(Anything)
Interesting to say.
But the truth is,
My life is dull.
Get up, wash clothes,
Wash me, feed animals,
Feed children,
Wash dishes,
Straighten house.
Repeat every 24 hours.
It doesn’t make for very
Interesting reading.
Bronte had it down–
Her life was completely
Devoid of excitement.
She never left home,
(Or very rarely)
But she had a head
Full of stories
Exciting and romantic.
Sylvia Plath had an
Exciting life
And she decided to
Stick her head in an oven.
(If she had seen MY oven,
I’ll bet she would have
Found another way.)
I like to fancy
Myself a punk.
But the truth is
I’m not even that, anymore.
I am a
Has been punk,
Has been musician.
(And never a very good one,
Truth be know
n.)
And now I’m just a mom.
A housewife.
That word makes me cringe.
I devote my free time
To things I care about.
My kids, animals,
Writing when I can.
I miss music,
Bang on drums when
No one is at home.
(Which is almost never.)
But really,
What does that make me?
All I can come up with is

Boring.

It makes me boring.
And that makes me sad.

~sll
2/7/2015
5:15pm
(With apologies to my children and my husband – all of whom I love very much.)



{February 7, 2015}   The Office Visit

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Photo credit: southbrandywinelibrary
Doctor’s Office, Coatesville, PA circa 1850

A Psychiatrist is going through my medical records,
every once in a while
She says, “Hmmmmm.”

I don’t think it’s a good thing.

It’s been three hours – what the hell
could she have
Found in there that was so interesting?

I’m not even that interested,
and it’s my life.
I’m considering committing suicide just to leave.
Afraid I’ll be stuck here forever, doing paperwork
Listening to judgmental “Hmmm,”s from
Some chick whose family life resembles
The Kardashian’s,
only more dysfunctional,
And way less attractive.
(let that sink in…)

So I sit.
Quietly peeling off my acrylic nails.
Why am I wearing these, anyway?
They would make good weapons to gouge
Out my own eyes.
Sigh.
How much longer?

I wish I had forgotten to show up,
Or had a nice flat tire
But NO,
I had to come.

I shouldn’t be so whiney.
(I shouldn’t be, but I AM.)
I think I’d be better off
Self-diagnosing AND
Self-medicating.
This person can’t even
Figure out her own difficulties.

As soon as I can get out
I do.
Won’t be doing that again
Anytime soon.

On the plus side–
After listening to her complaints
(No, really – at least an hour
Of the 3 1/2 hour “session”
Was taken up with her telling me her
Problems, and her taking calls
From her messed up teenagers
.)
I don’t feel so bad about my life.

Today.

~sll
8/31 12:32 p.m.
Revised/rewritten 2/6/2015



{February 6, 2015}   Prologue (to Thursday)

Bright streaks of silvery grey and blue
Burning my eyes.
Can’t possibly be time yet.
(Since I only just laid my head on my pillow.)

There must be some mistake.
But, no…
I hear an elephant basketball game starting upstairs,
Which can only mean–

Kids are awake.
Dogs want out.
It really is morning.
Ugh.

I start moving,
Getting ready to search for clothes,
Books, lost band instruments
Among the chaos

That is my life.

~sll
8/31/2011
4:13 a.m.
Revised – 2/5/2015
11:40p.m.

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{February 5, 2015}   Michael in the Morning

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You are lying quietly
in the Land of Nod,
I, trying not to disturb your rest, slide
between cold sheets, silent.
You sigh, smile,
dream on.

-sll
2/4/2015
11:15pm



et cetera