The Siren’s Spell

Not for the weak of heart, this watery confinement –
with brine-coated tongues and surly dispositions, went
the submarine crew to their depths, braved the absence
of daylight, sold their souls to Poseidon’s entombment.

Some say it was the fumes, sulphurous as Hell’s own funk
that warped the minds of hardy men, robbed them of their spunk –
tales of lily-white maidens, whose melodic tunes wiled,
lured spirits from their nests, lifeless corpses in their bunk.

(This form, inspired by Willow Poetry’s What Do You See? challenge – the image provided – is a Rubayait, written for dVerse pub.)

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VJ

Permission to write, paint, and imagine are the gifts I gave myself when chronic illness hit - a fair exchange: being for doing. Relevance is an attitude. Humour essential.

31 thoughts on “The Siren’s Spell”

  1. Pingback: What do you See? Roundup (Feb/19/2019) | Willow Poetry

  10. I like the mixture of lyricism, horror, and the sort of conversational tone–like sit down, everyone, and listen to my tale. 🙂
    That painting is creepy, especially because the sailors are smiling.

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