Airy you were
Airy you were in my dream, I felt you;
you had a bluish ribbon to twine,
my souls' ocean drops in cold truth,
the stars above ironically to shine;
.......................
I beckon; winds wave in worlds lost;
my glance to fair trails in home field,
a chorus of lost Angels foremost,
singing a monody of my soul's grief.
So there she talks; from far beyond,
the heights of glassy domes, of stars,
wishing - coins thrown in a pond,
a fantasy dreamer I am, behind bars.
Oceanic vastness, memories voiced,
- teary depths prohibited, I sail to only
caliginous, danger links of moist
foam on lips as my Siren smiles lonely
from darker faraway to care softly,
so as to touch my lips, singing a note,
a poem for my lone death to ghostly,
of irreversible Hades links that float.
.......................
Our steadfast sails to horizons gray,
the years we passed will there shine,
your low voice in the wind will betray
my soul's Siren song to end my twine..
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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Related quotes
The Song Of The Siren
Oh, I am the siren, the siren of the sea,
The sea, the wondrous sea, that lies forevermore before;
I stand a fairy shape upon the shadow of a cliff
Where the water's drowsy ripple laps the phantom of a shore,
And, oh, so fair, so fair am I, I draw all hearts to me,
For I am the siren, the siren of the sea.
All the glory of my golden tresses gleams upon the air,
How it falls about my snowy shoulders, round and bare and white;
My lips are full of love as rounded grapes are full of wine,
And my eyes are large and languid, and full of dewy light;
Oh, I lure the idle landsmen many a league for love of me,
For I am the siren, the siren of the sea.
Sometimes they press so near that my breath is on their cheek,
And their eager hands can almost touch the glowing bowl I bear,
They can see the beaded froth, the ruby glitter of the wine,
Then I slip from their embraces like a breath of summer air;
Oh, I lightly, lightly glide away, they come no nigher me,
For I am the siren, the siren of the sea.
Sometimes I float along a-standing in a boat,
Before the ships becalmed, where dusky sailors stand,
And the helmsman drops his oar, and the lookout leaves his glass,
So I beckon them, and lure them, with the whiteness of my hand;
Oh, this the song I sing, well they listen unto me?
For I am the siren, the siren of the sea.
Would you from toil and labor flee,
Oh float ye out on this wonderful sea,
From islands of spice the zephyrs blow,
Swaying the galleys to and fro;
Silken sails and a balmy breeze
Shall waft you unto a perfect ease.
Fold your hands and rest, and rest,
The sun sails on from the east to the west,
The days will come, and the days will go,
What good can man for his labor show
In passionless peace, come float with me
Over the waves of this wonderful sea.
Would you forget, oh sorrowful soul,
Come and drink of this golden bowl,
With jewelled poppies about the rim,
Drink of the wine that flushes its brim,
And drown all your haunting memories there,
Your woe and your weary care.
Oh, I am the siren, the siren of the sea,
The sea, the wondrous sea, that lies forevermore before;
Oh, the mystic music ripples, how they break in rosy spray,
But the crystal wave will mock them, they will reach it
nevermore,
For it glides away, I glide away, they come no nigher me,
For I am the siren, the siren of the sea.
poem by Marietta Holley
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Amid Stars
Call of beauty only remote,
a street number, old note,
I hold, prime drops of rain,
like teary stains to remain.
Lines of solitude and verse,
Autumn raindrops, disperse;
with decreasing light tangle;
with my voice, dusk-wrangle;
So it was you in my dreams,
to shine in ethereal streams,
we became two distant stars,
that blink behind minds bars.
I adored your singing voice,
melody of my utopian rejoice,
Two carved betrothal rings,
worn one day of our Springs.
and like all beautiful flow'rs,
lived for one day, amid stars.
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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Factus Illac Lacrimosus
Caliginous, of long mane, maid beckons
as white sea birds dive in airy orbits,
and hazy horizons breathe, on eons,
resplendent she is! my soul transmits.
Thus, all advents of my previous lives
seek out for poetic streams, conflate,
white bluish colors, and dreams to guise,
benign oracle, to honor you and oblate.
The sea, I said, my soul, dimly effuses
to love you in ethereal transmittance,
I disinherit my years in Hades pastures,
accord of Elysian notes, a Deus stance.
The sea-gulls fly above, an obsequious
ocean behavior, so you, a memory fragile,
made solitude my companionship frivolous,
the flights fictitiously, my dreams beguile.
I recall our summer time, eons before,
gallivant feast to surmise dreams lost...
- A cry of yours, a dark mantle you wore,
factus illac lacrimosus, of my way foremost.
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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Stars define
I recall trees foliage above
a sky was, 'n' distant stars;
the bitter wind and iron bars,
to keep us locked from love.
Lone echoes from night birds,
to cry in vastness and beset,
my pride's error - eyes wet,
hopes left out, and our words.
wishes that absconded young,
in prime times - of eighteen,
sepia tones, trees evergreen,
in foliage of dark sky among.
Abstinent solitude of then
allows love memories hereby
amidst winds that tear decry,
and crowns solitude to begin;
Stars that know only to shine
in worlds acclaim only of pain
there is no life in merit's gain
as lone stars darkness define.
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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Love-Laurel
Ah! that God once would touch my lips with song
To pierce, as prayer doth heaven, earth’s breast of iron,
So that with sweet mouth I might sing to thee,
O sweet dead singer buried by the sea,
A song, to woo thee, as a wooing siren,
Out of that silent sleep which seals too long
Thy mouth of melody.
For, if live lips might speak awhile to dead,
Or any speech could reach the sad world under
This world of ours, song surely should awake
Thee who didst dwell in shadow for song’s sake!
Alas! thou canst not hear the voice of thunder,
Nor low dirge over thy low-lying head
The winds of morning make.
Down through the clay there comes no sound of these;
Down in the grave there is no sign of Summer,
Nor any knowledge of the soft-eyed Spring;
But Death sits there, with outspread ebon wing,
Closing with dust the mouth of each new-comer
To that mute land, where never sound of seas
Is heard, and no birds sing.
Now thou hast found the end of all thy days
Hast thou found any heart a vigil keeping
For thee among the dead—some heart that heard
Thy singing when thou wert a brown, sweet bird
Gray Æons gone, in some old forest sleeping
Beneath the seas long since? in Death’s dim ways
Has thy heart any word?
For surely those in whom the deathless spark
Of song is kindled, sang from the beginning
If life were always? But the old desires—
Do they exist when sad-eyed Hope expires?
How live the dead? what crowns have they for winning?
Have they, to warm them in the dreamless dark,
For sun earth’s central fires?
Are the dead dead indeed whom we call dead?
Has God no life but this of ours for giving?—
When that they took thee by each well-known place,
Stark in thy coffin with a cold white face,
What thought, O Brother, hadst thou of the living?
What of the sun that round thee glory shed?
What of the fair day’s grace?
Is thy new life made up of memories
Or dreams that lull the dead, bright visions bringing
Of Spring above! Are thy days short or long?
Thou who wert master of our singing throng
Mayhap in death thou hast not lost thy singing,
But chauntst unheard, beside the moaning sea,
A solitary song.
The chance spade turns up skulls. God help the dead
And thee whose singing days have all passed over—
Thee, whom the gold-haired Spring shall seek in vain
When at the glad year’s doors she stands again,
Remembering the song-garlands thou hast wove her
In years gone by: but all these years have fled
With all their joy and pain.
My soul laughed out to hear my heart speak so,
And sprang forth skyward, as an eagle, hoping
To look upon thy soul with living eyes,
Until it came to where our dim life dies,
And dead suns darkly for a grave are groping
Through cycles of immeasurable woe,
Stone-blind in the blind skies.
The stars walk shuddering on that awful verge
From which my soul, with swift and fearless motion,
Clove the black depths, and sought for God and thee;
But God dwells where nor stars nor suns there be—
No shore there is to His Eternal Ocean;
A thousand systems are a fringe of surge
On that great starless sea.
And thou wert not. So that, with weary plumes,
My soul through the great void its way came winging
To earth again. “What hope for him who sings
Is there?” it sighed. “Death ends all sweetest things.”
When lo! there came a swell of mighty singing,
Flooding all space, and swift athwart the glooms
A flash of sudden wings.
Dreamer of dreams, thy songs and dreams are done.
Down where thou sleepest in earth’s secret bosom
There is no sorrow and no joy for thee,
Who canst not see what stars at eve there be,
Nor evermore at morn the green dawn blossom
Into the golden king-flower of the sun
Across the golden sea.
But haply there shall come in days to be
One who shall hear his own heart beating faster,
Plucking a rose sprung from thy heart beneath,
And from his soul, as sword from out its sheath,
Song shall leap forth where now, O silent master,
On thy lone grave beside the sounding sea,
I lay this laurel-wreath.
poem by Victor James Daley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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As Her Notes Glisten the Wind
As Her Notes Glisten the Wind
By: Adam M. Snow
Never again, will I wake my siren within
And let her sing a requiem tune.
Erasing the words until it is sung
As my life be dead by spoken croon.
Never again, her notes glisten the wind
But softly it reigns burden be my heart.
Her voice chill the air upon me
And by that dost my soul depart.
Quaintly I long for a foolish song
From the writer who sung mute.
The words like a pendulum above my chest
Hanging perfectly acute.
Never again, I bow my head to shame
My siren's voice dost be angels lips.
I am captivated by such hellish song
That left my world in eclipse.
poem by Adam M. Snow
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At Dawn and Dusk
At Dawn and Dusk
Love-Laurel
IN MEMORY OF HENRY KENDALL
AH! that God once would touch my lips with song
To pierce, as prayer doth heaven, earth’s breast of iron,
So that with sweet mouth I might sing to thee,
O sweet dead singer buried by the sea,
A song, to woo thee, as a wooing siren,
Out of that silent sleep which seals too long
Thy mouth of melody.
For, if live lips might speak awhile to dead,
Or any speech could reach the sad world under
This world of ours, song surely should awake
Thee who didst dwell in shadow for song’s sake!
Alas! thou canst not hear the voice of thunder,
Nor low dirge over thy low-lying head
The winds of morning make.
Down through the clay there comes no sound of these;
Down in the grave there is no sign of Summer,
Nor any knowledge of the soft-eyed Spring;
But Death sits there, with outspread ebon wing,
Closing with dust the mouth of each new-comer
To that mute land, where never sound of seas
Is heard, and no birds sing.
Now thou hast found the end of all thy days
Hast thou found any heart a vigil keeping
For thee among the dead—some heart that heard
Thy singing when thou wert a brown, sweet bird
Gray Æons gone, in some old forest sleeping
Beneath the seas long since? in Death’s dim ways
Has thy heart any word?
For surely those in whom the deathless spark
Of song is kindled, sang from the beginning
If life were always? But the old desires—
Do they exist when sad-eyed Hope expires?
How live the dead? what crowns have they for winning?
Have they, to warm them in the dreamless dark,
For sun earth’s central fires?
Are the dead dead indeed whom we call dead?
Has God no life but this of ours for giving?—
When that they took thee by each well-known place,
Stark in thy coffin with a cold white face,
What thought, O Brother, hadst thou of the living?
What of the sun that round thee glory shed?
What of the fair day’s grace?
Is thy new life made up of memories
Or dreams that lull the dead, bright visions bringing
Of Spring above! Are thy days short or long?
Thou who wert master of our singing throng
Mayhap in death thou hast not lost thy singing,
But chauntst unheard, beside the moaning sea,
A solitary song.
The chance spade turns up skulls. God help the dead
And thee whose singing days have all passed over—
Thee, whom the gold-haired Spring shall seek in vain
When at the glad year’s doors she stands again,
Remembering the song-garlands thou hast wove her
In years gone by: but all these years have fled
With all their joy and pain.
. . . . .
My soul laughed out to hear my heart speak so,
And sprang forth skyward, as an eagle, hoping
To look upon thy soul with living eyes,
Until it came to where our dim life dies,
And dead suns darkly for a grave are groping
Through cycles of immeasurable woe,
Stone-blind in the blind skies.
The stars walk shuddering on that awful verge
From which my soul, with swift and fearless motion,
Clove the black depths, and sought for God and thee;
But God dwells where nor stars nor suns there be—
No shore there is to His Eternal Ocean;
A thousand systems are a fringe of surge
On that great starless sea.
And thou wert not. So that, with weary plumes,
My soul through the great void its way came winging
To earth again. “What hope for him who sings
Is there?” it sighed. “Death ends all sweetest things.”
When lo! there came a swell of mighty singing,
Flooding all space, and swift athwart the glooms
A flash of sudden wings.
. . . . .
Dreamer of dreams, thy songs and dreams are done.
Down where thou sleepest in earth’s secret bosom
There is no sorrow and no joy for thee,
Who canst not see what stars at eve there be,
Nor evermore at morn the green dawn blossom
Into the golden king-flower of the sun
Across the golden sea.
But haply there shall come in days to be
One who shall hear his own heart beating faster,
Plucking a rose sprung from thy heart beneath,
And from his soul, as sword from out its sheath,
Song shall leap forth where now, O silent master,
On thy lone grave beside the sounding sea,
I lay this laurel-wreath.
poem by Victor James Daley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Swept Idea
Beatitude whelmed is visiting my esteem,
to coincide with my remorse, and dream,
and there, as my unguarded pride rings,
another solitude to invent on lost sea links.
A shudder from the northern blow travels,
an antidote to my soul's solitude unravels
kills silent worlds where my failures hide
pushes my suspicion of a dim hope aside.
On dark roads my enthalpy is a dull emitter,
a fly in skies of a sole try, my altimeter,
your memory recounts, my fervor of cauma,
a knock on my tearing wound and trauma..
And still.. Today's dream is one more code,
that laughs as only one visitor will approach,
a wind carries last year in his cold embrace
my one attempt will wipe off, a sand trace.
The wind cries; it passes my soul's burden,
a message dim never read, call of a maiden,
that invites stranded souls of lost wars,
to wait on Heaven roads where ether soars.
A swept idea of a smile and another of tear,
her ghostly upwardly turned hands and stare,
guide my senses and my route towards tides,
where I felt her to wait for me inside Hades.
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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Amidst, amidst
Amidst, amidst
Amidst the waves
The ocean-waves that sparkle on the pilot sea
And glisten in the night to dancing forms
Of elfin size in silent prancing lost.
Aloft, aloft
My soul I have let go
That it may find at last
Its home, the yearning-prize
Wherein it must go now:
The ocean-sea that sparkles in the night.
I hear the chains cut
I hear the pains fall
I hear my dress of breath
Fall in the channel sea, beyond the straits
Where the wide Ocean beckons and awaits:
Where the wide night yet sparkles full as day
Where the dawn riseth from its eastern cave
Where beauty surfeits by excess of love:
Where the Good rests and stays
My soul will sail.
And from the triad of rocks that menacing
Stands in the ocean path
The sirens sing their lay.
Yet the night shines and there is light
The soul sails on, the siren-song by-passed
Withers and loses in the ocean’s vast.
The breezes blow, the breezes blow my face.
And the soul sails, still sails this night.
poem by Emmanuel George Cefai
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The Isles Of Sleep.
The opiate isles upon time's sea
In the dream-dark
Rise with their harbours silently
Before each day-abandoned bark,
And the worn mariner anchors there
Till thought, new-waked in the dewy air,
Sings like a lark.
The silent isles with their dream-shores
On the waves float,
Whereto the faint-eyed mariner oars
Within the dusk his eerie boat;
All care put by, like one who knows
No tide there turns and no wind blows,
Near or remote!
From day to day upon time's main
We sail on so,
Sure every night some port to gain
In the dream-dark where no winds blow;
Until we too this sea have cross'd
E'en like the galleons that were tost
Here long ago.
Some seem each day to sail so far,
They reach that shore
So very soon where all things are
As they will be for evermore;
Some for so many a night and day
Have to drift on their lonely way
Ere all is o'er.
But all sails touch the land at last:
The slowest come
As in a mist out of the past —
The last dream-isle fades on the foam,
The last stars rise, the last stars set,
And there is but the last day yet
'Tween them and home.
poem by Robert Crawford
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Ebony Star
A wharf awaits our boat to up tie,
shoreline of lonesome, wax light
a moor to quay and my Siren's cry
quells my solitude, strays my sight.
Night spirits link on my shadow
demons of Hades and Furies call
dim lantern lights remember a vow
dim blinking stars my sorrow toll.
I pace on wet pave walk as there
a quietness empty is my welcome
I know you loved me only in air,
As ether flies, my love is lonesome.
Dim lantern lights, Harbor dockside
Maybe time will stop with Auster,
maybe a word in my soul will abide
blossoms are white on ebony star.
My truths shine on lone projections
no one ever will interpret my quotes
oracles offered by your emotions
forever my solitude on links devotes.
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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Soulshine
Transcribed by sean carpenter
When you cant find the light,
That got you through the cloudy days,
When the stars aint shinin bright,
You feel like youve lost youre way,
When those candle lights of home,
Burn so very far away,
Well you got to let your soul shine,
Just like my daddy used to say.
[chorus]
He used to say soulshine,
Its better than sunshine,
Its better than moonshine,
Damn sure better than rain.
Hey now people dont mind,
We all get this way sometime,
Got to let your soul shine, shine till the break of day.
I grew up thinkin that I had it made,
Gonna make it on my own.
Life can take the strongest man,
Make him feel so alone.
Now and then I feel a cold wind,
Blowin through my achin bones,
I think back to what my daddy said,
He said boy, in the darkness before the dawn:
[chorus]
Let your soul shine,
Its better than sunshine,
Its better than moonshine,
Damn sure better than rain.
Yeah now people dont mind,
We all get this way sometimes,
Gotta let your soul shine, shine till the break of day.
Sometimes a man can feel this emptiness,
Like a woman has robbed him of his very soul.
A woman too, God knows, she can feel like this.
And when your world seems cold, you got to let your spirit take control.
[chorus]
Let your soul shine,
Its better than sunshine,
Its better than moonshine,
Damn sure better than rain.
Lord now people dont mind,
We all get this way sometimes,
Gotta let your soul shine, shine till the break of day.
Oh, its better than sunshine,
Its better than moonshine,
Damn sure better than rain.
Yeah now people dont mind,
We all get this way sometimes,
Gotta let your soul shine, shine till the break of day.
song performed by by Allman Brothers Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Alter Nigh
Guiding mizzen, curved, waves,
my route beyond gray horizon,
spells dim, sails unfold to dawn
my soul is dull and misbehaves..
Weedy paths spiral in distance
spirits broken expend to waste,
eschew encomium for instance
lost lives-souls in caves, etiolate.
Sea streams, envy my cause,
a twinge starts on mistral whiffs,
poems will describe fall leaves,
lonely is the reason to applause..
Delphian paths do know so well,
a lissome figure in winds to cry,
the mist will sink in a sip of rye,
beyond horizons I shall dwell..
A man must know if he is chosen,
to quill darkness in nocturnal fog,
villages are distant in this bog,
and his remote death is frozen.
Solitude feelings up proudly fly,
a bitter freedom, to winds offer,
my poetry books, in an old coffer,
your away stars shine alter nigh..
poem by Giorgio Veneto
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Siren
Siren, siren, calling me from the sea,
Spill the sweetness of your words and your voice—
Spill them with such lucid fluidity
That I sink in them without having choice.
Siren, siren, sing me into a lull,
Bewitch me with your charm and your danger—
An insatiable thirst I can't control
For adventures, your lure of grandeur.
Siren, siren, slipping through my fingers
Like a formless liquid, make me submit.
You move with an air that seems to linger,
Perfumed with pleasures that seem infinite.
Siren, siren, entice the sensation
Of love within my imagination.
poem by Tim Stensloff
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Isolation
THERE'S a lonely spot in the soul of man,
More lone than the moonless sea;
And a gulf, that never a bridge can span,
'Tween him and all that be;
And the lips we kiss, and the eyes we love,
5
And the glory of golden hair,
Melt like the stars in the mist above,
And shed no sunlight there.
There's a weary voice in the soul of man
That cries for the great "to be,"
10
Like the moan of the worlds when time began,
Or the wail of the wind by the sea;
And only the fall of the faded leaf
And the sigh of the night in the trees,
Can utter the spirit's lonely grief
15
And the sorrow that no one sees.
poem by Frederick George Scott
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Thermopyle
A merit of lonesome, Persephone's dark ocean
we received. A strong red wine, a wake of pain
that stings. A ghostly clad chorus, a lost odd zone
of Hades and Styx. A gloomy dim swaying
an abstract dull pain, I felt, an emotional strain.
Three hundred rain drops, and two that remain
to offer again, a destiny altered, a deadly refrain,
denial spelled about my life, over your throne
and there the air, is to betray, the death of my soul..
A mantle of arrows we wore, a lost last embrace,
a scattered emotion, a gathered devotion, away,
my fingers so callous of a never charisma to trace
there is nothing to encounter, a mist plea to obey
white of candor, a blanket of valor, so death will stay.
One thousand rain drops to bestow domain to fly
up in the clouds, Olympian vows, this wild garland
passengers of time, the epigraph read, vows comply
in a Plutonian kingdom, a cold old endeavor of blood..
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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Into the Blue Memory
This is a poem not a song...
I wrote it like that on purpose,
that's because I wanted this poem to
sing to you like if it was being sung
like an opera, I wanted this to fill
your heart with poetry and song...
This was inspired by the song
'Ghost Love Score' by Nightwish
Into the Blue Memory
By: Adam M. Snow
A child will find the way,
in a night, and in a day,
with the moment still,
waking the dreams,
glorious and free,
into the blue memory.
Redeeming childhood,
upon advent dream,
A journey worth telling,
of this soon destiny.
Angels singing broken song,
can't help but sing along.
Open eyes of blinded sorrow,
looking towards the endless morrow.
Who is she, lost and cold,
with tales of truth to be told?
Stories of journey in the blue memory,
of a destined child of light and poverty.
A siren from the deep approached him,
spoke his dreams, his memory,
mend his broken heart,
pressed out like a key,
to reign with love and all victoriously.
Will he find true love,
shining down from above?
Lighting his way,
into the ever darkening day.
Nevermore does he ache,
when he sleep, he's still awake,
longing for true love,
cold and alone he waits,
waiting for that day,
that only love could portray.
Who is he, lost and cold,
with tales of truth to be told?
Stories of journey in the blue memory,
of a destined child of light and poverty.
A siren from the sea approached her,
spoke her dreams, her memory,
mend her broken heart,
free her from her curse,
to reign with love and all victoriously.
Will she find true love,
shining down from above?
Lighting her way,
into the ever darkening day.
The world she forsake,
when she sleep, she's still awake,
longing for her love,
on this dreary night,
waiting for that day,
that only love could portray.
Together they seek,
not self-effacing nor meek,
but the touch of pure love,
to mend their broken heart.
Together they search,
for themselves once lost,
with their vowing dreams the cost,
to find, there is only one,
riding throughout the wind,
being together passed the end,
falling into the arms,
of an angel's joyous charms,
to the sight of lovers birth,
reigning down all over the Earth.
poem by Adam M. Snow
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Dream Lover...
There are moments when I believe that you are real.
Yet all of me knows that you are just a dream.
The figment of a dreamers heart, bereft of love for so long.
A desperate longing of this lost and lonely soul.
Those wonderful times in my fantasy world.
When I can feel your soft touch stirring my emotions.
Your lips on my lips, your heart beating against mine.
Your hot breath on my skin, as we embrace as lovers do.
Then I open my eyes to gaze upon you, and there is no one there.
And when I realise you are not real, tears begin to fall from my eyes.
For once again my heart is empty, my soul is lonesome.
And I am left wanting for my dream to come true...
Spread the love... The peace will follow...
poem by Cosmic Dreamer
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A Dream Lover
There are moments when I believe that you are real.
Yet all of me knows that you are just a dream.
The figment of a dreamers heart, bereft of love for so long.
A desperate longing of this lost and lonely soul.
Those wonderful times in my fantasy world.
When I can feel your soft touch stirring my emotions.
Your lips on my lips, your heart beating against mine.
Your hot breath on my skin, as we embrace as lovers do.
Then I open my eyes to gaze upon you, and there is no one there.
And when I realise you are not real, tears begin to fall from my eyes.
For once again my heart is empty, my soul is lonesome.
And I am left wanting for my dream to come true...
Spread the love... The peace will follow...
poem by Cosmic Dreamer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Siren's Song
The Siren's Song
By: Adam M. Snow
Once upon a midnight wake,
A Siren sings, 'Sweet mercy sake'
Soothes the hearts O' gentle man,
In their yielding peaceful span.
Sirens cometh from the deep,
Cloaked in light the water sleep,
Claims the souls, lost to man,
Since the dawning life began.
Gathers victims from the shore,
Spoke the stories ancient lore,
Of beauty risen from the sea,
Captures souls without a plea.
Mesmerized them with her song,
And as the boat-head wound along,
Lighthouse glistens over tides,
Kiss her lips and she abides,
Kiss her twice, your souls no more,
And death awaits at your shore.
poem by Adam M. Snow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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