Siren Whispers

Siren Song

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Waterfall of words


She is showered

By your waterfall of words

Drenched to the skin

By the delicious thoughts they cause

Bewitched by the feel of them

As each drop that falls

Makes her tingle

With awareness

With desire

With the need

With the want

For more


First posted two years ago. The cause changes but the effect remains the same.


Photograph by Constantin Lelyak




She is a mystery to him.

Given a glimpse

beyond the surface

beyond what everyone else sees 

and knows

he is relishing the possibility

of exploring her

of plumbing her depths further

of knowing her secret self

as no one ever has




Double exposure photograph by Erkin Demir


Ichor of desire


She looked levelly at him

‘this can be yours’, she said,

the plum kiss of her glistening lips a distraction from the words.

Still, he heard them and heeded their plea

the ichor of desire pumping hard and fast through his veins

ringing in his ears

a rushing river of carnal thoughts.

One look at her

and he could clearly see

that the shape of his destruction

would be found

in the curve of her sensuality.



Photograph taken from Pinterest




There can be such devastation in love.

We give ourselves up to the romance

the passion

the absolute knowing of another.

We gladly sink into the essence of the other person.

Often we give all of ourselves

as a way of aligning with the one we love.

We want them to know us

to accept us.

Unconditional love

such a precious thing.

We don’t realize how much we desperately want to be seen

to be known

to be accepted

and yes, loved

for who we are

not for who they think we should be.

We can be denied this for years

never realising what was missing

until one day we are shown.

Our eyes are opened

our souls are touched

we are released from the chains

we’ve been bound in.

We realize just how hungry we are to have it

how it consumes every single, solitary inch of us

until we are dying of thirst 

amidst a pool of water.


*There can be utter devastation but time as with Spring presents a chance for a rebirth, a fresh page to inscribe, a newness that can take your breath away.


Watercolour “Wine Tasting” by Anna Dart 




I taste the unknown

in your kiss.

It conveys me to places

I can only imagine,

places where I am pliant

underneath your fingertips.

Your touch



unrelenting with passion.

It fuels my hunger 

and my curiosity

to know more

to do more

to be more.

With you,

within this,

a boundless need

has been unleashed.



Photograph taken by Jose Miguel

Model: Lauren Nicholas


Cover me with your sin


Cover me with your sin

Fingers threaded through with mine

Held aloft

Pressed upon soft white sheets

Stark against flesh flushed pink

With arousal

With exertion


Cover me with your sin

As you crowd me with your intentions

To spoil

To sate

To initiate

Claiming every dark instinct as your own

As you pin me to the page

Writing your darkest prose

Seeing my response

Under your fingertips

A whorl of darkly inked curves and lines

Entwining with your own



Photograph taken from Tumblr




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I am rapture

at your fingertips

and beneath your tongue.

I am the scent 

that makes you dizzy with desire.

I am the taste

that you cannot get enough of

the one that makes you ravenous

again and again

always wanting

another taste.

I am the skin and curves

that haunt your dreams

prompting your imagination

to soar

to heights it has never reached before.

I am the soul

that yours hungers for.

A connection

conceived with promise


by constancy.

I am a rhapsody of delights



to you…


*Not new but there are bindings, though not always the same.


Photograph taken from Pinterest




We perpetually fight our nature

Becoming bruised and exhausted

With the effort



One day

We surrender

To the darkness within us

That we finally recognise it

And accept it

As our own sweet voice


Photograph taken from Perfectly Persuasive


Sunday confessions, toi


I was the sweetest,

the most innocent bad girl

he ever created.

Especially on Sunday.


Sinful Sunday.

Soft white skin

and pure white ribbon.

A sensuous tether

to wicked thoughts

and desires

pulled tight by him.

Making me wet and wild.


A Sunday prayer.

A single wish

whispered from my lips

that was

purity and sin



I am

A body trembling with sinful wants

and a soul aching with innocent need.


I sit upon the church pew

modest in dress and demeanour


by the secrets and sins

that dance within every line

of the poetry I am composing

in my head.


You are deeper than skin

greater than sin

absolution is mine

as you touch all the parts of me

that ache for you.




Photograph taken from Pinterest




Sea of velvet


The sky is a sea of velvet

and I am drowned in moonlight.

Slipping under waves

as black as night

but which I do not fear

only desire

to know

and to be engulfed




Photograph taken from Pinterest