Siren Whispers

Siren Song


Not a girl of summer

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I am not a girl of Summer
though the sea runs through my veins
and I would happily swim
from dawn to dusk.

I am not a Coppertone baby
with flowing yellow hair,
golden strands gleaming
in the sun,
perfection of tan skin
and white smiles.

I am a girl of Autumn,
of Winter
burnished leaves and snowy landscapes
my favorite things;
books and fires and sweaters and long walks
my pleasures.

I am the pale girl
with hair brown as a sable coat,
soft and rich and full of depth.
it is when its copper threads catch the sun
you’re given a hint of the fiery and passionate nature
oft hidden
revealed to few
known intimately
only to one.


© SirenSong1208


I’m good, really.


I’m good, really.

     Maybe I’m just an outlier in this divorce game   

It most definitely is not a game, but for years I wore a game face. I was that person who kept it all bottled inside — the fear, the rage, the sadness, the confusion, the loneliness. But to everyone, I was good. I was fine. To the naked eye a placid lake, yet a churning sea underneath …


Published on Medium: P.S. I Love You

Find the complete version here.


©Christine Kelly 2019

Photo by Brandi Redd on Unsplash





I give my confessions

to him.

In all honesty.

In complete acceptance.

Words spoken like an Act of Contrition

as I unveil my sins.

Sometimes singularly

and slowly

other times in tangled narratives

given in a rush of spleen

as I peel away the last vestiges of false image.

A veneer so sweet it made my teeth ache.

The insistence of honey over vinegar

made more palatable by convention.

The spicy, savory, and sometimes sour

oft disdained,

a whisky burn

not for the faint of heart.


Copyright ©SirenSong1208

All rights reserved.

Photograph taken from Pinterest, unsourced.


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Tempest’s brew

Within the shadow

Of the storm

This tempest’s brew

Forget me not

For I am

At once

the waves that crash

With ferocity

Upon your silent shore

And the safe harbor

You plot your course to


©SirenSong1208 ~ 2017

Artwork by Nikolena Petolas


The quiet one


The room is low lit and hums with a dozen conversations.

Sitting amidst the noisy chatter of friends, she is the quiet one.  Watching and listening, she takes it all in.

The opening notes of a song begin to play and her eyes light up.

It’s her song.

She jumps to her feet and heads to the dance floor, oblivious to others. 

This girl, alone on the dance floor, loses herself in the music.  She’s in her own world. 

Her long skirt brushes her calves as her hips sway.  As she closes her eyes her head falls back.  With her arms extended above her, curved gracefully, she becomes the song.

She is a pale skinned girl with short dark hair, a long errant strand curling along her bare neck.  Her slender body moves with feeling, the lyrics resonating deeply within her.

She has no idea of the picture she paints to those who watch.  The vision presented to someone like you.

Watching from a table in the back.

Watching as she dances alone.




Feeling every note of music in every part of her.

You watch her, transfixed, a smile touching your lips.

You see the creature beneath the modest clothes and the young, innocent face.

You see me.

The me that I do not know.

The me that you will know.

As I lose myself in that moment.

As I lose myself in the music.

As I lose myself

in being me.


*First posted in February of this year.

‘How Soon Is Now?’ written and performed © The Smiths

Words on this blog post ©SirenSong1208 ~ 2017

Photograph is of the French actress Audrey Tautou. For several reasons she, and this picture, perfectly illustrated this post. The photo was taken by Ralph Wenig in 2013.

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I am not made of stone

I am not made of stone.

I have been told

That I wear my heart upon my sleeve

That my writing tells all.

While my writing is imbued with

My thoughts, my feelings, my desires

I write only what I want known.

I am a world of private thoughts and feelings

Pain and joy

Mine to share

If I desire.

You will not find me crying publicly

But that does not mean I don’t hurt

It does not mean that the tears I shed

Don’t run hot down my face

When I am alone.

I am not made of stone

I get confused and frustrated

I have feelings

I have pride

I can be hurt by unkindness

By insensitivity

Especially when it’s unwarranted

Though you’ll never know how much.

 No, I am not made of stone

I am made

Of heart

And soul


*Not a new piece but always relevant, always me.

©SirenSong1208 ~ 2015

Photograph taken from Pinterest, unsourced



I am the girl…

all of my life accepted by all

but embraced by few

as kindred.

A life lived on the fringes.

The quiet, acceptance, and understanding I needed

found within.

A solitary life amid others

where the voices heard were my own.

Distinct and indistinct.

The tenor of my present and past

guiding me forward.

The world that I created

gentling the sometimes-jagged edges

of this life

as I cast an unwavering gaze upon the future.

Refusing to flinch

at harsh light, cold wind, or seemingly impossible odds.

The tears that fall are my own

to see

to know

a burden I carry.

To be unknown

except to myself.

A melancholy prospect

as I hold that façade in place

by sheer willpower and determination.

Protecting my inner life

until the day that someone starts to dismantle it

with kind eyes that see me clearly

and with a touch that tells me

I am home.


©SirenSong1208 ~ 2017

Photograph taken from Pinterest; original provenance unknown.



Consider this


Consider this

Behind her shy smile and shining eyes…

…Is a world of private, intense thoughts

Of fantasies she dares not voice

Of pain and disappointment

She has tamped down

Until there is only a whisper

Of disquiet

…Is a world you can only guess at

Unless she lets you in

And if she lets you in

You just might find…

The thoughts she has allowed to bloom and flower

That she has nurtured with a faithful heart

And deep desire running through her veins

Thick as blood

It is a world of sensuous, decadent thoughts

Of complete surrender

In mind, body and soul

Thoughts that center completely

Upon you



Photograph taken from PerfectlyPersuasive




I am not a rose on parade

for your viewing pleasure

a treasure to be kept

under lock and key.

I am meant to be touched

softness under your fingertips

curves to be mapped

a scent to be savoured

a mind to be explored


I am not delicate.

I am lush and vivid

with a colour that lasts longer

than first blush.

I will not wilt without the sun.

I will not thirst without the rain.

I will flourish

again and again

through each weathering storm,

a rose

in winter.


©SirenSong1208 ~ 2017

Photograph taken from Tumblr

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Empty forests


The empty forests of my mind

Are filled with trees that touch the sky

With dappled shade and secrets

And beginnings and ends

Of boughs and branches

Filled with thoughts and plans

Ones that I’ve had

And ones that are in bloom

But there are others

Those that are in their infancy

Newly seeded

Awaiting optimum conditions

And time

For growth

The sun, the rain, the air, the soil

Working together

Bringing to fruition

This vivid and verdant path

That I am meant to walk upon


©SirenSong1208 ~ 2017

Photograph by SirenSong1208