Sissy Poetries

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My Friend Jenny

My friend’s name is Jenny
And she has a wide enchanting smile
Laugh’s she has many
While we chat awhile!

Jenny has such beautiful long hair
To frame her pretty face
But like all women she has to share
Her tuff problems with innocent grace!

She really is a wonderful girl
So generous, caring and sweet
On a carousel she likes to whirl
And she’s never been known to cheat!

When you see her relaxed in her jeans
She’s happiest of all
Because then she’s full of beans
Instead of being belle of the ball.

Jenny has two secrets though
The first is that she has a dear sister
Not many people know
That her name is Elaine and this is no mister.

The other is the crazy part
You would think it’s all a decoy
But this really a blast
Because Jenny doesn’t forget she was born a boy!

Dedicated to you
Love
Elaine

The End

The gun lay upon the table.
A gleaming object through which the whole world could end.
But what end could it bring.
Cold it end the pain?
Could it lesson the suffering?
Could it heal a broken heart so long broken?
Can it give what the heart truly desires?
Is fantasy reality or reality fantasy?
Can it bring love
It cant give love or be loved
Or is there such a thing as love
Or is it an illusion created by people on tv
Can it cure loneliness
Or is loneliness something that must be endured at all cost
No matter how much it hurts
Can it bring friends
Or will your friends be glad to see you go
Can it tell me who I am
Or end the suffering of never knowing
Can it bring money
Money to solve all my problems
Yet is money an illusion too
Can it bring the one person that would make you feel wanted
No, that person has never existed
And will they ever exist
Can it make people understand
Or even want to care
No, the only thing it can do is end it all
Permanently
Today
Tomorrow
Maybe never
Is there hope at all

by Danielle

The Wall

Oh wall
Fortress that surrounds me
Protects me from others
Protects me from myself
Oh wall
How high you stand
Yet how low you go
How strong you are
How fragile they be
To protect me from others
Yet hurt me from within
To keep out emotion
Lest none get in
Lest none get out
O protector
Oh great wall
For there is one great enemy
For which there is no protection
That is myself

by Danielle

Ally's House (from a dream)

Last night I slept in Ally’s house,
I don’t know who she is.
I spoke to a man outside.
He knew Ally much better than I.
I don’t know who Ally is, but
Her house felt as though it was mine.

Last night I slept at Ally’s house,
But Ally wasn’t there.
I don’t think she ever is, so
why do I care?
What the hell is Ally’s house?
It both comforts and disquiets.

I spent last night at Ally’s house,
I didn’t sleep I waited.
Ally wasn’t ever there,
I was there, I waited.
The man outside knew Ally, and
the man outside knew me.

I used to live at Ally’s house.

by AllyEl

If I Could Be Me

If I could be me,
I wouldn’t be this face I see in the mirror,
With beard too dark and jaw too square.
No, the me I would be lies behind my green eyes.

No breathless bimbo I’d be,
If I could be me,
Or sexy starlet.
It isn’t being a sex symbol that being me is all about.
I wouldn’t even vacuum in high heels and pearls
Like a fifties sitcom mom
If I could be me.
I wouldn’t be the belle of the ball
In petticoats and lace.
They aren’t me, you see.
The me I’d be is very much like the me I see,
Except my outward body would reflect my inner reality.

No, the me I see behind these green eyes
Is sometimes foolish, sometimes wise,
Everyone’s favorite teacher or aunt,
Or storyteller at the library,
Dressed in denim jumper
Or skirt of plaid,
Funny earrings that dangle.
I’d have nails that are painted
A cheerful color,
And, oh yes, comfortable shoes
(those five inch heels don’t fit my style).
My thick wavy hair would fall past my shoulders.
Maybe I’d color it for fun, like I would my nails,
Or maybe I’d let it be streaked with gray
Because I would be that comfortable with myself,
My real self, and growing old would be okay..
I might be something of a klutz but with a certain lightness,
A fey sprite or a sly saint.

The self I would like to be
If I could be me,
Behind the smile, the teasing whimsy,
Would have some mystery,
Some hint of magic,
With more layers than a Russian doll,
A self within a self within a self.
That’s the one I see behind these green eyes,
The one I see in my inner mirror,
She’s who I would be,
Emmie Dee,
If I could be me,
If I could
Be
Me.

by Emmie Dee

The Lake

I swim in my lake
All alone
No one near
No one far
My lake surrounds me
It tears my life asunder
It gives no hope
Nor happiness
It breeds dispair
It foments hate
Not hate of others
But of oneself
I swim in my lake
So large and round
No shores to swim to
No islands to cling
I swim in my lake
The only constant in my life
My lake

by Danielle

Eat, Drink and be Mary

Late at night the candle flickers
and I sit in my frilly knickers
combing out my golden tresses
surrounded by my favourite dresses
Smoothing on my cream foundation
with tingles of anticipation

Oh, How wonderful it is to wear
silk stockings and a brassiere
elastic and lace holds my perfect C cup,
while I sit and apply my Avon makeup.
I look in the mirror – and can honestly state,
My completion is flawless – just right for my date

But now the problem! What’s just right?
Which outfit should I wear tonight?
I know – I’ll wear the black pleat skirt
and match it with an embroidered shirt.
Perhaps the one with little rosebuds
fastened at the back with pearl studs

That would be nice, but in that blouse
I’m hardly vampish – more a mouse.
It hardly is the height of fashion
designed more for warmth than passion
Sweet enough, but hardly glamourous
Unsuitable for an evening amourous

So maybe something rather kinky
Like the Thai sarong – that’s very slinky
But no! my hair is blonde tonight
the oriental look just wouldn’t be right
Beside it’s far too tight, and shows
the bulges in my underclothes

The black cocktail dress is a better bet
But perhaps it’s just… too decolette?
I love the cut, it’s so appealing
but perhaps it’s really too revealing
Nice girls don’t show all their tits
only the swell on the upper bits.

If I’m going to be a pretty girlie
I’ll choose something soft and swirly.
The evening gown with the little bow
gives me that most delightful glow
It shapes my bodice and my waist
and is in the most perfect taste.

Such thrill to feel the soft caress
of that smooth and silky dress
the swirl of silk which almost floats
on layers of lacy petticoats
Imagine just how good that feels
with silk stockings and five inch heels.

I always get those little thrills
from the ruffles of my petti frills
As they brush against my silken thighs
I have to heave sweet little sighs
That’s a special feeling that I treasure
one that gives me untold pleasure

What have I forgotten – or overlooked?
the wine’s on ice – the meal’s near cooked
The CD’s playing – soft and gentle
my favourite love-songs sentimental
and the house is pretty, nice and tidy
Why, I worked on it all day on Friday

Just time to add the final touch
a dash of lipstick ‘sur ma bouche’
The mirror shows my true reflection
and I look just sweet perfection
And then the time’s exactly right,
the bell rings for my perfect night

Passions I thought well hidden
Draw me – I go where I am bidden
But… It’s not a lover that I crave
The bell was from my microwave
That device is a real winner
Chef-de-cuisine of my TV dinner.

by Andrea

By Dawn and Dusk

By dawn and dusk, I form this trust,
And weave it in a spell.
Of satin dreams and beauty queens,
Of Ears and tails and such..

Now leave the world of man and male,
As I blend “wo” and “fe” to thee.
To change thy form,
From now to morn,
And become a bunny at Hef’s hutch.

Gone shall be thy manly wand.
Thy bosom shall increase.
And between your thighs so shapely,
Thee shall wear a woman’s crease.

Now listen to these scented words,
That wield your life so much,
I command thee to thy other form,
As a bunny at the hutch.

Incased within a costume,
Of silver shine and light,
Thee shall learn of female passions,
And that shall bring delight.

Upon your feet you’ll wear spiked heels,
And learn to love the nylons touch,
As a child of beauty,
As a bunny at the hutch.
 
  by Deane Christopher

My friend Elaine

I dedicate this poem to my Dear friend Elaine
And I hope in some small way it helps to ease the pain
Of being someone special even though it’s hard
I just want her to know that she’s held in high regard
 
Elaine has a deep longing
Which she tries to hide
But I know about all those feelings
That she keeps well guarded inside
I know it isn’t easy to lead a double life
But revealing her secret would only lead to trouble and strife
As it did back then with the wife
 
Perhaps one of these days she’ll be contented
Though the surgery could leave her broken and dented
I think to myself, I wish I could help
But nothing I do would stop the yelp!
 
I hope we’ll continue to be good friends
I’m sure we will if we get round life’s bends
There are times when everything seems such a big issue
I think in time we can stop the crying and need for tissue
 
So let me end these lines with a happy flavour
As I have to thank her for doing a favour
I wish her success in what life has to hold
And tell her that I’m very fond of her …if I may be so bold!

  by Zoe Marks

Normal

Who is normal
Is it me
Is it normal for me to like the softer side of life
Or to want to be more feminine
With the swish of skirts
And the waft of perfume around them
Even though i’m a male
Am I normal
Is anybody for that matter
How about June Cleaver
With her make believe world
Everybody happy and no complaints
Or even Hitler
Not withstanding the fact that 6 million died
Was he normal
Being normal is much like beauty
It is in the eye of the beholder
It is in the perception of how we see ourselves
And how others see us
Yes some of us are normal
And some are not
I’m not sure about me
But how about you

by Danielle

Sandra’s Poem

Sandra here’s a poem for you
A poem for one whose heart is true
A friend of mine I’m glad to say
You make me happy in every way
I work the day and watch the time
I cannot wait to get online
And wait to see that happy sign
That my friend is here online
And when I look and see you there
It makes me happy and without a care
I see you and you see me
We start to chat and feel so free
Your heart is big and full of love
Sometimes I think you’re from above
Because you are so full of love
I’ve never had a friend like you
Some one to listen and just be true
I’m glad I have a friend like you
A sister with a soul so true
A girlfriends love is good to have
But a sister’s love is best I’m glad
And now you know just how I feel
I’m glad this is the real deal
And now I’m glad in every
My soul sister is here to stay

Sara UK

Elisabeth-Anne

She dresses with the greatest care
starting with silk underwear.
Lacy panties, smooth and white,
everything looks neat and right
Her girdle gives her utmost pleasure
As she tucks in her secret treasure

Her waist slip, frilly and revealing
Gives her a special sensual feeling.
Her bra is fastened with soft hands
which linger over ample glands.
Fingertips touch and couple
Over breasts so soft and supple.
 
But perverse Nature never blest
her frame with an outstanding chest.
I know this sounds a touch pathetic
but both her tits are quite synthetic.
They are her own; that’s very true
bought, and fixed with surgical glue.

by Andrea

Running Away

My ship cuts its course through the green, heaving waves
Back home to my wombland, to my hide, to my caves.

Fleeing Fair Maiden, Fortune and Fate,
With my heart in my boots and my mind without hate
But numbed by the pain, the despair and the shame,
I weep at the bow in the wind and the rain.

In my home I am safer, here no one can see
How I dress like a young girl though I’m now sixty-three.

So I hide in my hoosie and savour my sorrow,
Practice my make-up, remember the horror,
I saw on Her face when she caught me in Dress,
Her total rejection, Her obvious distress,
Till I no longer can bear it and have to go out,
But first making sure that there’s no one about.

Then I wander through bogland and over the heather,
Clamber down dunes and get lost in the weather,
Paddle through breakers and shout at the sea
Till in loud, stony voices it shouts back at me.

Now I’m cold and I’m wet, I appreciate
My insignificance to this Time and this State.

A kind of warm peace creeps up nylon-clad thighs
As I sink in the shingle and breathe my goodbyes.

My mind disconnects and I drift into light
As my discarded shell falls into the night.

Free like a bird I can soar in the sky,
I can swim to the stars to discover the Why ?

Crystal’s Party

In her place, two storys above ground;
We entered quietly, looked around.
We saw Crystal needed to leave in a hurry,
So around the bedroom, we did scurry.

Picking up this, picking up that,
Panties, bras, a big floppy hat.
Finding the fish, we gave it food,
Read some magazines, nothing lewd.

Cosmo, Good Housekeeping, Modern Bride, I think,
At about that time, we all started to drink.
She has a nice bar, so very divine,
Full of really old French wine.

After awhile, some boys came in,
Carrying vodka, beer and a little gin.
We all decided to have some fun,
So we made girls of every one.

We feminised the pizza boy,
Now he is Cathy_t_’s toy.
The guy next door, underpaid,
He is now Prue’s French Maid.

Paula put one in a girl’s body suit,
Everyone admits, he is really cute.
Heather tried some lipstick on one,
“He” and Julia left for some fun.

There was a streetwalker with a purse,
Ballerina, secretary, and a registered nurse.
Me, Annie O, I just followed their wishes,
And I was stuck with the dirty dishes!

by Ann O’Nonymous

Living in Between

I live in between.

It is morning.
A woman’s dream ends
and I awake, easing my old male body from my bed.
I live in between.
 
Yet I can thank God for a mind mostly free of male rigidity
and a gentle sweet soul.
I live in between.
 
My eyes fill with tears at a sad song on the car radio,
but I don’t stop to ask for directions when I get lost.
I live in between.
 
When my wife wistfully says, “I wish I could wear a dress like that,”
I silently agree, wishing that I could to.
I live in between.
 
Approaching two restroom doors, I hesitate briefly,
wondering which me should go in which door.
I live in between.
 
There’s a lovely, supple young woman.
long hair stirring in the spring breeze,
the men with me want to lay her;
I want to be her. 
I live in between.

A thought, persistent,
peeks shyly from the back of my brain,
like a frightened child in a doorway.
Wherever I am,
whoever I am with,
even when I am alone,
I am always a member
of the opposite sex.
I live in between.

by Emmie Dee