You might call Susan O’ Connel a ‘soiled dove’ as she literally takes on a persona of Mattie Silks, a madam from the Old West, as she performs her cowboy/cowgirl poetry. She jumps right into the character to the point that she dresses up as Mattie to perform her literary art. So Susan is going to tell you a bit about herself and I am going to insert 2 of her poems at the end. I hope you enjoy Susan’s story as much as I did!
So, Susan, tell us all about yourself.
Susan: “Although I grew up in California, as I said my family goes way back in the settling of the west. My love comes from their stories and fascinating lives.
I have been writing stories about “the girls” since the early 1990’s for my one-woman show but out of curiosity, I wrote my first poem in 2001 for an event I was asked to attend as my madam character. It was an 1865 ball which I was asked to “break up.” It was so much fun and the audience of “good ladies” and men played along as the women tried to keep the men away from me.”
Mary: “That sounds like a blast. I can just see this all in my mind. So next question. Who influenced you to write poetry?”
Susan: “I wasn’t influenced by anyone in particular since my poetry is influenced by the lives of the soiled doves, but I did admire Baxter Black.
Mary: “What do you like about cowboy poetry gatherings?”
Susan: ” I love cowboy gatherings. The feeling of going back in time, the camaraderie with other like minded people, sharing my poems with everyone and dressing up as the madam I love; Mattie Silks.”
Mary: “Do you have any books or CDs available?
Susan: “I had a book published but the publisher went out of business and no more books were available. If I can get another one printed in the future I will. No CD’s.”
Mary: “Do you have any gatherings scheduled for the year?”
Susan: ” No gatherings planned for this year, so far.”
Mary: “How can folks contact you to schedule an event?”
Susan: ” If anyone wishes to contact me for any reason they can use my e-mail address, mattiesilksshow@yahoo.com “
Susan sent us a couple poems.
THE MASTERPIECE
by Susan O’Connel
A travelling artist came into town offering portraits for a reasonable fee
All the people lined up and he did really well for his work promised immortality
Now the girls at the brothel wanted one too and the artist agreed they could pose
For the sight of so much lovely feminine flesh left him ruffled, perturbed and upset
This was a painting he might never complete since his palms were beginning to sweat
But the girls knew the trick that would settle his nerves and by the time they were finally through
But his easel collapsed and he spilled all his paint when they proceeded to take off their clothes
He painted with a passion of one truly inspired and kept yelling “MICHELANGELO WHO?”
The girls patiently posed as he worked through the night, never once did his flawless strokes cease
Till the first rays of dawn lit his canvas with light revealing a true masterpiece
The girls were in awe as they gazed at his work, their praise made his confidence grow
He somehow had managed to capture their souls and their faces shone with a radiant glow
People came from all over to admire this prize even though the models were ladies of sin
The girls didn’t mind the intrusion at all since it brought dozens of customers in
Now the painting changed hands many times through the years till no one remembered its true claim to fame
Its origin and models could never be traced since the artist neglected to paint in his name
It was purchased years later by a very rich man who unveiled it at a fancy soiree’
He announced to his guests he was ninety percent sure it was a Rubens or maybe Manet
You see nudity was acceptable to the cultured and rich that’s what set this fine gentleman apart
He considered himself a connoisseur and believed that anything this lewd must be a great work of art
The night of the party everybody turned out, the ballroom glittered with elegant guests
Diamonds embellished each matron and maid and medals adorned every masculine chest
The fanfare of trumpets and the rolling of drums produced a fitting unveiling effect
But the stunned silence that followed the last clarion note wasn’t the reaction he thought he would get
No one said a word as they gathered their coats and quietly hurried outside
He wasn’t sure he heard right but his wife seemed to sob something about social suicide
He wondered why his guests had walked out as he gazed at these beautiful nudes
To him they were an artistic depiction of nymphs and his friends were nothing but prudes
But as he stared at the painting the light finally dawned and he realized his huge oversight
For on closer inspection it was perfectly clear that the mayor’s wife was the third from the right
GODS WILL
By: Susan O’Connell
The good ladies gathered at the Baptist church
To plan an attack against sin
Since a brothel had recently opened nearby
This was a war they intended to win
But try as they might to close down the house
By picketing out in the street
By editorials, letters, petitions and prayer
All their efforts were met with defeat
So they retreated once more to the sheltering church
They must be more aggressive they swore
It didn’t much matter if someone got hurt
Since there were casualties in every war
At last they decided to burn down the house
Which didn’t require much skill
They knew this harsh deed would be met with much praise
Since they knew they were doing Gods will
Their righteous indignation spurred them on to their task
As they gathered once more to conspire
But they didn’t consider the consequence
Of trying to eradicate evil with fire
The good ladies looked smug as the embers rose high
Those whores would regret coming into their town
But they neglected to notice a shift in the wind
And the Baptist church, not the brothel burned down
Duchess of the Prairie 