Her love affair with the ocean. No sand-licked walk she will ever make. Yet her many lovers.
Lonely, she waits. The ships to watch. The waves that break. Vast sails breach the horizon. Wind-swept hair, damp on her face.
She watches another sailor, A lover. Reaching for her visible fins. Yet with quiet wonder. They fall into the dark deep.
The salty brine. A seaweed bracelet she bears. Her climb never ensured. A comb in her hair she wears.
The rocks are for heads to slumber. Her call is her conviction. One that’s cried. For ships that seek her treasure. Dare not brave the tide.
Her love all but forgotten, to what she cannot have. For her only lover. A longing tune, that’s forever Sad. For spent apon those Waves, her song.
Will never find its resting place in the world of man.
Wash the decks, you sailors. Scurvy dogs of hell. It’s better that You’re dead. For the sirens’ song, is without fear or dread.
There she blows the whale, heavy with Sea foam. Fire the harpoon, true. Whale blubber we take home. Hear the sirens’ music. Rising each wave brings her note.
Treacherous are the rocks. Where bodies do not float. Dragged to sea, you are. Into inky mist. No fish will speak of you when flesh, they digest.
By the bow. They see her combing lengthy locks. Her beauty, all but breathtaking. Her eyes were like pearls. She looks. Yet her heart is glassy. Cold for vengeance and death.
Yet love and wanting burn inside. Deep beneath her Breast. Yet not for those who cast a bitter rebuke to the sea. For her duty is to drown them. To take their final breath.
A sailor ruff and ready, heaves a heavy chest. Casts his net in the open at his behest. Thread born, with skill.
Captures the siren, To the other men’s Enthralled thrill. Their hubris is not mistaken for their greedy will.
Her song is sorrowful and foreboding. Cleaves the air from them. As they watch her tears flow. Her defeat instilled.
Yet the ship grazes the Rocks nearby. Drawn in by the waters, it is listening to the sky, grey and sombre.
The clouds menace In despair. Yet the Sirens singing. Nothing can compare.
The ship’s course is now taken. Its doomed fruition shows. One sailor yells, ‘We’re sinking.
We should let The Siren go.’ All their lusting mistaken. Brought under her tempestuous spell.
Their prize, not so shiny now. The siren set free. Dives into blue and green.
But too late now, driftwood. A sunken ship finds its fate. The siren watches from a distance. A smile upon her face.
