Siren Whispers

Siren Song


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Night sky eyes

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Night sky eyes

Which see every nuance of my soul

I peer into a dark that glitters

With unseen stars

The pull inexplicable

And burning with intensity

Midnight blue melds to velvet black

A galaxy with unknown depth

My curiosity is piqued

With a need to explore

And it becomes an odyssey undertaken

As I lose myself

Relentlessly

Within the brilliance

Of his constellations

:

©SirenSong1208 ~ 2017

Artwork by SisLightly

 


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Curves

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She is not thin

She has curves.

She’s a woman

Not a girl.

Her body carved

By genes, time and effort.

She’s soft but strong.

Her shape

Ripe and succulent

A tempting feast

For his discerning palate.

Her curves delight him

Soft skin adorning every breathtaking inch.

A perfect erotic vision.

A snapshot for his memories.

Her body sensuously shaped

From her elegant shoulders

And sweet breasts

To the bend of her waist

As it seductively melds into her hips

Of her belly and hipbones

Constructing a delicious place to grip her

And hold her against him.

The light plays beautifully upon her skin

Creating shadows that entice fingers to explore

Hills to traverse

Valleys to get lost in.

Enjoying his journey

Circumnavigating

Every enchanting inch.

:

©SirenSong1208 ~ 2015

Artwork taken from Pinterest, source not known

 


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Sea Fever by John Masefield

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In honour of National Poetry Day, a sea themed poem by John Masefield

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I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,

And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by,

And the wheel’s kick and the wind’s song and the white sail’s shaking,

And a grey mist on the sea’s face and a grey dawn breaking.

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I must go gown to the seas again, for the call of the running tide

Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;

And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,

And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.

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I must go down to the seas again to the vagrant gypsy life,

To the gull’s way and the whale’s way where the wind’s like a whetted knife;

And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,

And a quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick’s over.

(John Masefield, 1878-1967)

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Words by John Masefield

Voice by SirenSong1208


4 Comments

The return of Autumn

The return of Autumn.

I can feel it

The air is just a bit crisper.

Summer is starting to take its leave

Suddenly

And without fanfare.

I love Autumn

But there is much to be said for Summer.

The delicious feel of sun warming skin

On bare arms and bare shoulders.

Summer dresses that float about naked legs.

Evenings sipping wine and enjoying the stillness

Of a garden in bloom.

In truth there is something about each season

That speaks to me.

The beautiful purity of Winter’s landscape

The textures of nature in hibernation

An unexpected delight within a frozen tundra

The vibrant hue of a cardinal in flight

Which always makes me catch my breath

In wonder.

The rebirth inherent in Spring

Glorious colour taking form from a white and colourless terrain

The emergence of a beautiful butterfly

From its chrysalis

The sense of an awakening.

But I love when Autumn comes.

The smells of pumpkin and cinnamon

The breathtaking colour changes.

Woodsmoke in the night air

Long walks enjoying the changing light

And the way the cooler air pinks my cheeks

And invigorates me.

But perhaps I love Autumn so much

Because it is my own way

Of shedding the year

Withdrawing into myself to replenish my soul

And becoming that butterfly

Awakening to myself, to life’s experiences

Over and over again.

:

*Written two years ago but always relevant.

©SirenSong1208 ~ 2015

Photograph taken by SirenSong1208


2 Comments

Time will tell

Time will tell our story 

In 60 second beats

Each notch on the dial

A tick-tocking of lost moments

We watch the hands go ‘round

The light of day

Fading

Frozen in time

Mute to its passing

Wanting to stop the clock

And rewind

:

©SirenSong1208 ~ 2017

Artwork by Felicity Rogers


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Thrill me

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It was an intimate performance

and he was her captive audience.

She had his undivided attention.

He was rapt,

his eyes hungry

as he watched her dance.

Adoring

every curve

every muscle

every glorious inch of skin

revealed.

Each moment sensuously drawn out

along with his breath.

“Thrill me,” he said.

And she did.

:

©SirenSong1208 ~ 2016

Photograph taken from Pinterest


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Awakening

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I cannot cage these thoughts

or douse these desires.

Every encounter pushes me further over the edge,

to fall

to fly

into this fire

with you.

Cool sheets and exhausted sleep

coalesce into an awakening.

Flames licking every inch of my bare frame.

Sheets tangled around curves

as my hands smooth over warm skin

and my fingers find every ache

with your name.

:

©SirenSong1208 ~ 2017

Photograph taken from Pinterest