Siren Whispers

Siren Song


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Combat mode

“Realizing that with two teenagers under my roof I am in perpetual combat mode as they make repeated attempts at my fortifications.”

My opening (written) salvo this morning on Twitter. Now, this is not news, not to anyone who has ever parented. Combat mode changes with every year, with every milestone said child or children reach. When we first bring them home the struggles are sleep and safety. We watch with gratitude and awe as they reach each milestone. But, with every one reached, we are that much closer to the ‘I’ word. You know what I mean. Independence. And what does that mean? It means hell on earth folks. Okay, I’m being a tad dramatic here but I think I can safely say (imagining many of you nodding your heads in agreement) that when that burning need for independence hits, your struggles truly begin. The endless questions of why, the pushback on rules, the constant and repeated attacks on your fortifications. Add to that the divide and conquer maneuver that most children instinctively know how to employ and it becomes and ‘us against them’ tactic.

Teenagers are a special type of demon, in my opinion. Now, don’t get me wrong…I love my devils, er my children, but I can honestly say that there are days I wish to employ my invisibility cloak. Because they simply are not pleasant to be around. Thank goodness there are plenty of days that are joyfulf and that kind of balances it enough that I don’t run screaming into the night.  

But back to the hell of teenagehood (yes, I realize that is not a real word but I am employing creative license). In addition to being in full throttle, achieve-my-independence mode, they are clearly beset by raging hormones that make them moody and hostile, nicely finished off by the world-revolves-around-me thinking to make most days a lovely stroll through a mine field.

I always found it amusing that childhood is categorized with ‘terrible two’s’, etc. when in reality every age could be classified that way. Tongue in cheek of course. There isn’t anything really ‘terrible’ about any of them. It is just a series of adjustments that you make with each assault on your fortifications, and it starts early.  (Clearly you have to put aside your delicate sensibilities and know that IT’S NOT PERSONAL…that’s a difficult one to swallow because some days it sure feels personal). Children do not come with a handbook, nor are parents given hazard pay (personally I think that’s a travesty and a sliding scale should be employed…increasing as they get older).

Parenting is not for the faint-hearted.” I am sure that is someone’s quote though I have no idea who. Undoubtedly another parent who has been in the trenches, and has survived the napalm of a surly teenager in the morning. 

Like many other parents who lament their children’s behavior, I love mine without limit or expectation. But, being a writer, I will always fully employ what I know and right now I know the glory and the (oft times) horror (Say it with me…’the horror, the horror’) of the teenage personality. But my love is unconditional, and they know that. I am their safe zone. 

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©SirenSong1208 ~ 2018

Photograph taken from Pinterest, unsourced


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I dream of your hands

I dream of your hands

tangled like need

in my hair

as I breathe you in.

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I dream of your hands

finding every curve and line

touching them

molding them to your palms

like a sculptor.

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I dream of your hands

covering every inch of my skin

a blistering caress

that ignites my own fire.

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I dream of your hands

making my body sing

with a touch, a grasp

that tells me I am yours

my song for your ears only.

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I dream of your hands

and my own hands

become your proxy.

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©SirenSong1208 ~ 2017

Photograph taken from Tumblr, unsourced


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Smoke and ghosts

Smoke and ghosts

Linger

To haunt a room

To plague one’s thoughts

With memories that leave you reeling

When you happen upon 

A whisper

A scent

Of what once was

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©SirenSong1208 ~ 2017

ArtworktakenfromPinterest, unsourced


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Dark intention

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The night is good at keeping secrets

Wishful thoughts and lustful want

Confessed to the moon

By lovers out of reach

Proximity to touch forbidden

By circumstance

But in the haven of the midnight hour

Our dreams become laced

With a touch of sin

Every dark intention

Manifesting itself

With the silhouette

Of the one we yearn for

As we let our pent up

Burning desire

Run as wild as a mustang

Across the plains

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©SirenSong1208 ~ 2017

Photograph taken from Tumblr, unsourced

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The first face

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She was the first face I saw.

I fell in love

But didn’t know it.

Those hazel eyes gazing down at me

Soothing my abrupt entrance

Into a much colder world

Than the one I had existed in

For months.

I quickly came to realize

That she was my world.

Her beloved countenance

Changing over the years

But always

Full of love

Full of pride.

She has been

My teacher

My cheerleader

My taskmaster

My confidante.

Providing an example

Of what to strive for

Being supportive of the choices I made

Even ones that she knew would hurt me

Assuring me

That kindness doesn’t make one weak

And always making it clear

That the world was my oyster

That I alone could make my world

What I wished it to be.

I have been so lucky

To have had such a wonderful person

To guide my days

To know unconditional love and acceptance.

Recently I was reminded of a song

That was always hers and mine.

My mother

My friend.

You and me against the world.

A mother’s love

A sacred thing.

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*This is not the first nor even the second time I’ve posted this but on this day, the birthday of the most amazing and loving person that I know, I felt it fitting.

©SirenSong1208

Photo taken from Pinterest, unsourced


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A wild thrumming

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You inspire deep desire within me

My hunger for you

Ravenous

This ache vibrating

Across every inch of me

Humming audibly

A wild thrumming in my veins

Chanting

Yours

Yours

Yours.

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©SirenSong1208

Photograph taken from SocialSurvival


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Our darkest desires

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It is in the inky darkness

Velvety soft and sensuous

That we give in

That we allow ourselves this freedom

This pleasure

Words that have caressed us

Through the day

That have fired our imaginings

That have made our pulses race

They feed our darkest desires

We lie

Separate

Tangled in sheets

Naked skin burning

The throb and ache of arousal

Maddening

Hands and fingers

Proxy for the other

As dreams become real

In the silence of the night

I feel you

And your need overtakes me

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©SirenSong1208

Photograph taken from Pinterest