The practice of a mad-song stanza lends itself to a dark write.
The tempest kiss of seaweed miss. Her temper heard ~ his heart stirred. His ship astern and fast. The siren’s scorn lambaste; Blind youth’s reality is blurred. The satin hair of Whitney bright A pearlescent veil, the tide ~ Calm! Calm! It’s all a lie! Her body movement spry. O serpentine witch, her smile, her glide… Her bright white fangs aglow, move slow. The magic of her song moored In his terrified glance; The seaman’s in a trance. In former life, he would have scored. She slowly sucks his soul, and then, One by one she tenders them. The fishhooks through their eyes, Amuse her with goodbyes. Rehearsal of fatale la femme.* 2/5/2020 *femme fatale order of words was switched to aid rhyme. A poet’s prerogative:)
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.