Poetry Everyday of the Year (and more)

The rules are simple. 1) Send me a poem and if I approve it (most likely) I will print it. I will also print my poems (which are copyrighted.) 2) If I print your poem you will retain all rights to the poem. I will also delete your poem if you sell it to a publisher who wants exclusive rights. 3) If I print your poem, I will send you an email telling you what day. (So you can tell everyone). This is a poet friendly site. (enjoy)

Wednesday, May 4, 2011

Siren (Ullysses’ Excuse)


Sultry girl promenades ‘round the room
She wants to hook you - she wants your eyes
Talking like she’s a big shot
like her words mean anything to you
you have your problems of your own
It ain’t easy to keep this ship on course
but ya gotta if ya wanna
get back to the wife and the life
you left behind.
Next thing, you know she’s there - this goddess - next to you
across the table with a bottle, and then there’s glasses
held high, to queen and country, and her eyes
so blue, so deep, so watery liquid - they take you down
and you can taste them as they strip you naked,
meanwhile you hear some sort scraping noise
like rocks against wood and you realize
it is already to late - you have seen too much
and you have gone too far - there is no turning back
her bed is now your bed and your men are forgotten or dead
this morning is not next morning - years have flashed past in moments -
 could this be true ?
you ask yourself while you clear your mind
She, this woman who lies with you, she is young like that yesterday so long ago,
and you, you are the age you are supposed to be, today,
As you walk toward the door, you hear her song once again
you feel her hooks pull you back, for she is what the man in you lusts for
Yet the bottle she offers is empty and
you are the warrior, that is, at least what you once were
(your men are no more, your ship is in ruins)
She laughs as she strips your armor off once again and you rage silently
for all that has been lost - for all that will be lost
and against all odds, you stumble out the door,
and curse the gods, and you fight because that is what you do,
you fight the rage of the sea and wind and you fight the ghosts of dead men you once knew.
You fight the distance between where you are and where you want to be,
and you nearly lose - you wash up on shore, half-dead
you have nothing now, you are the wreck yet somehow
you make it home to the wife that is waiting and she takes you in her arms
Then you know why you came - there is no one who loves you
except your wife. You are Home - somewhere else the Siren is crying your name.

No comments:

Post a Comment