Kevin Michael Bloor

A Poet\'s Plight

A siren wrapped herself around

My soul, with wickedness she wound

Until I could not make a move

Without her hissing, “I approve.”

 

She stole my sense of self-esteem

A siren’s son she made me seem

Like Caliban, a shackled slave

As beast, she taught me to behave

 

She cast no shadow on my path

Invisible - her rage and wrath

No eye could see her fearsome form

Lay still like centre of a storm

 

Though siren sometimes sang at night

So sweetly, till the day grew light

Same songs she’d sang for sailing men

To lure them t’wards the rocks and then

 

Bestow on them a seaweed crown

While heaving ocean weighed them down

On shattered ship, with tattered sails

To join the water world of whales

 

This siren, to myself was wed

With bitter beauty she had bled

Me dry, of goodness, grace and dreams

Seduced me with her subtle schemes

 

My only hope was that one day

A goddess girl would hear me pray

And pity this poor poet’s plight

Against the siren help me fight!