Siren Whispers

Siren Song

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A siren’s fairytale



This girl

never stops imagining.

Heroes and heroines

bitter foils and happy endings.

A knight in shining armor to save the day

or the one to put me in peril.


Wend your way through this rough thicket of life

The vines and thorns that bedevil the path

To find me

Rose red in slumber

Needing your touch to bloom

A kiss to awaken me

To glorious possibility

Or perhaps

I just need you to be the wolf in the woods

Seeking this Red’s tender neck

To bite


©SirenSong1208 ~ 2017

Photograph by Lindsay Steele, Model: Courtney Alexis Cameron



Her song


It is her secret fantasy…

In an intimate club she takes the stage.

Dressed in a long sheath which clings to every curve

and caresses her every movement

she is cooly elegant

in a dress that belies the smoulder in her eyes.

Her dark hair falls in glossy waves about her shoulders

and her lips are ruby red.

She sings ballads of star crossed lovers

and of tortured passion.

The audience becomes enraptured with her voice

as every seductive verse is drawn out

every word, whisper, sigh

imbued with emotion.

She loses herself in the lyrics

feeling every word

living them there on the stage.

Singing them to the one who feels them

with her.

Her audience of one.

The only man she has eyes for.

Her song

for him.


*This is not new. It was written and posted last year but I was reminded of it recently and hope that long time readers will indulge me with another outing.


Photograph of the talented actress Emily Blunt, original source unknown.

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Coppery want


Taste the hunger in the night

black as coal

unforgiving in its depth

this wicked intent reigns supreme

as hands grip and fingers rake the length of me

nails leaving pretty pink tracks

laced with red

draw blood love

and taste my lust

coppery want that begs for more

and lips that will only be silenced with yours


©SirenSong1208 ~ 2017

Photograph by Bogna Patrycja Altman


Beside me


Click here for audio

Beside me

in the night

is the memory of your touch

and the sweet sound

of your heart beating

in time with mine


Beside me

as the sea crashes

against the shore

with intent

the sun sinks low

with one last fiery breath

and your arms meet

with me

in the center


Beside me

what would I have next to me

on this moonlit night

with the ocean singing the song of us

what would I want

more than you…


©SirenSong1208 ~ 2017

Photograph taken from Pinterest, unsourced




Library boy

Once upon a time things were simpler.


Life is different now.


I think of you and an image forms in my mind.

Library boy.

You would have been that boy alone at the library table.

A stack of carefully chosen books in front of him.

I would have noticed you from across the room,

my own stack of carefully chosen books in a semicircle before me.

A fortress to hide behind.

A way to see without being seen.

I would lose myself in the silence that was the rule and which I breathed in with great

greedy gulps.

I would have noticed you in much the same way you become aware of the other lone

person in a cinema.

Watching a last run film and laughing at the same parts.


I would have been shy, never speaking to you or making eye contact,

but wanting so much to talk to you

to get your attention.

I would have made trips to the stacks, ostensibly to find a book, though I clearly had

enough to occupy me.

I would have felt you watching me as I walked past you to use the card catalog.

You aware of me.

Me aware of you.

With every step.

Feeling your interest as I shuffled through the cards.

Not reading them.

Not even seeing them.

My face flushed.

My heart thumping out of my chest.

Willing this solitary boy to be as interested in me

as I was in him.


©SirenSong1208 ~ 2017

Photograph taken from Pinterest, unsourced




Rosary beads


Touch my curves

as though they were rosary beads.

Thumbing each one


Every stroke of your fingers

a murmured prayer

an Act of Contrition.

I will be the glorious mystery 

unfolding beneath

your hands

your mouth.

Make me your religion.

An altar for you

to worship at.

And not just on Sundays…


©SirenSong1208 ~ 2017

Photograph taken from Tumblr/unsourced


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


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