Poetry / Writing

The Siren of Sarcous by L.A. Murphy

The maid stares ever watchful,
Drinking deep in furthest blue,
Alluring, she does call men in,
And with her voice she does subdue.

The ships that line the ocean floor,
Fell quickly to her wrath,
Destroying all those souls so poor,
For they had dared to cross her path.

The waves, she did control them,
The stormy seas for her would roar,
The seaweed would enthral them,
And on their marrow she would gnaw.

Sailing men would pray;
“Let us pass and guide us home,
Keep us safe and free from harm,
When overseas we have to roam.”

But the heavens did not hear their calls,
And often she would rise,
Slowly feasting on the their flesh,
And dancing to their cries.

But lonely did she feel,
And despaired she stepped on land,
Looking for one so worthy,
Who would kneel and take her hand.

For years she searched the earth,
Finding none to suit her needs,
Sad and lost she sat at the river,
Playing shyly with the reeds.

It was here he came and found her,
And the love between them burned,
A decade passed and children grew,
But for the sea she yearned.

Returning to how she once had lived,
She rushed him to the shore,
Promising eternal life,
But he could breathe no more.

Further down, she swam,
Free in cooling depths,
Soon she turned to kiss him,
Instead she stopped and wept.

To the deep she took him,
Forever in her heart,
For here in darkest ocean,
They would surely never part.


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