Siren Whispers

Siren Song




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it is in the hoping that something special

something extraordinary

might happen

might be part of our future.

It is this that keeps us moving through our days

our eyes open

our senses

attuned to change

hoping that we’ll recognise it

when it makes its appearance.

And then

if we see it

and know it

do we grasp it

do we make sure

that all of those agonizing days and nights

of wanting something more

something unexplained

something undefined

that we give ourselves up to it

with all of our heart and soul

and become extraordinary

in the giving



Photograph taken from Pinterest



Dreams sustain a hope within.


with the cold wind of reality.

We nurture these fragile flames

within the safety

of our cupped hands.

Recognising the strength of our fire

born of intuition

and a soul’s whispers

our gaze upon each other

that first time


as the spark burst forth

into a blaze.



Photograph taken from La Mie Emozioni



Bearing the weight


Not undertaken lightly

she knows the risk to her heart

to give so much of herself away

to trust implicitly

to let go and immerse herself in another.

But it is the undeniable pull

the lure of this siren song

from deep within her

that found meaning

with words spoken from his lips.

In uncovering herself

she has laid her soul bare

vulnerable to wounding

but open to the myriad of possibility

that she can now see upon her horizon.

She reflects daily on her path

and always finds herself at the beginning.

Saying yes

to him.


Written on July 3rd, 2016 for #JustWrite ‘Bearing the weight of what we worship’


Artwork by Victor Bauer


Wings of white


To be tarnished

under his hands

a glorious dirtying of my soul

that takes me out of myself

and gives me back more of me

than I ever knew existed.


Wings of white

smudged with ash

as I allow myself

to feel what is forbidden

as I begin to understand

that my desires

as deeply dark as they have become

make me whole.



Photograph taken from Tumblr


Around the bend


Around the bend

are questions

are answers

is life.

Curiosity has me perpetually wondering 

what the future holds.

I am at odds with myself…

one side trying to refrain from haring off to find the answers

and, inevitably, this is akin to holding back a racehorse

the other side is reminding me 

to enjoy the journey.

Because every moment

should be savoured.

After all,

it is in those moments

some forgettable

some momentous

that creation takes place

not only of who we are

but who we were are meant to be.



Photograph taken from Tumblr


A slow build



There is something to be said

for waiting

for savouring the moments that lead to that

singular moment.

It is the heightened response

you cannot help but be infused with.


again and again

eliciting a craving

for more and more.

A feeling of almost being out of control

a spiralling upward

that creates a delicious tension

upon your skin

as though you are a violin string

strung tight.



and left vibrating.

Your note

singing out

desperately yearning

for the notes

that follow…



Photograph taken from Tumblr



This craving


It is unexpected

this craving.

Soul deep

inhabiting every pore.

This desire

so strong

to know everything

to experience everything.

It is a craving I’ve never had before.

The very thought

starts my skin tingling

has me burning with fever

experiencing a shiver

up and down my spine.

In the most delicious ways…

So what do I crave?

I crave you.

From the very first moment.

From when I knew I’d caught your attention.

From those first questions.

From that first conversation.

I wanted you with a fierceness I’d never known

and have not experienced since.

I crave you

in the most biblical ways.

Corporeal…and yet

that craving is secondary to the craving of your mind

and all the ways that you touch me

without hands.

How you have captured my soul

with just

a whisper.


#justwrite. February 13, 2016


Photograph by Rey Trajano




I wear my scars beneath my skin.



Like muscles I flex only when needed.

My scars are part of me

each one giving me strength

as I run a finger along the ridges

knowing how and when and why

I bear it.

Some old and faded.

Some new.

Red and raw and painful at times.

An emblem to folly

but also 

to conviction.

An integral part of me.

Every scar

a badge I can wear proudly

stating unequivocally…

I have learned

I have lived

I have loved…



Photograph taken from White Noten






With every word I write

I present myself


I undress my soul

layer by layer

a wordy striptease

knowing what to reveal

and when.

Showing the many sides

of this woman

at times layers I am not even aware of.

 Displaying naked emotion

and raw desire

and allowing you the choice

to watch

or look away.



Artwork by Steve Hanks


Journey in ink


My journey began with a single word

spoken to me

Unknowing at the time

a wellspring of verse

bubbled away under my skin

waiting for inspiration

waiting for him

It took hold one moonlit night

Thoughts that took me miles away

to a man

and his own thoughts

and to two flames that burned

Ablaze with a hunger previously restrained

the pages of my soul were on fire

The words that spilled forth that day

blood from my veins

a testament to my feelings, my awareness

of him, of myself

and of an unexplored question

whose answers took root

and have flourished

in my soul

and in my ink



Photograph taken from Pinterest