The Storm, the After

512px-Thomas_Chambers_-_Storm-Tossed_Frigate

Thomas Chambers, “Storm-Tossed Frigate”

 

She sings a storm,

crushing the ship,

 

the sweet delirious blue

of sea moaning a raw lathered beat.

 

And then the moon’s smooth beauty

dresses the sky with light. . .

 

and if licks these rocks

(lazy-tongued) through purple mist

 

Screen Shot 2019-07-20 at 10.24.03 AM

 

I visited the Oracle yesterday, but I didn’t have a chance to post. If you’re keeping track–I did a few word shuffles, but “if” showed up right at the beginning.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Siren Calls

The moon,

gorgeous gown’d

waxes at sea

on a bed of water.

Some say, she will swim,

then soar,

but I smell rain,

my feet rocked,

chanting wants,

honey music

of skin and sweat—

and you heed my moans–

the storm–

so, sleep

in the mists of time.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Félix Ziem, “The Call of the Sirens,” [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

 

A Saturday morning visit to the Magnetic Poetry Oracle. I’m not sure if I should feel empowered or forewarned.

 

 

The Siren Calls: Yeats Challenge, Day 5 and 6

I’ve combined Jane Dougherty’s A Month with Yeats Day 5 and Day 6 Challenges into one poem.

Day 5 Quotation:

“And like a sunset were her lips,
A stormy sunset on doomed ships;
A citron colour gloomed in her hair,”

–From The Wanderings of Oisin: Book One by W. B. Yeats.

Day 6 Quotation:

‘Suddenly I saw the cold and rook-delighting heaven’

 

Beauteous she was there,

like a sunset were her lips

and citron gleams within her hair.

She sang a song to doom the ships

and though we knew to watch for her

her voice was softly sweet, and so beguiling

and with such sweetness, lured to rocks we were

to crash there on, while she sat smiling.

But as I sank beneath the sea,

a dolphin came to rescue me

from this cold place, this watery grave,

he carried me upon his back, from there took me away

from the siren’s call and the dangerous waves

to the shores of my home country.

And this is where I now will stay

in my home upon a hilltop bright

Heaven it is to me, I say

to see the rooks caw in murderous flight,

and I delight.

And yet, sometimes from out at sea

the siren’s melody still calls to me.

Dante_Gabriel_Rossetti_-_A_Sea-Spell

Dante Gabriel Rossetti [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons
 “William Michael Rossetti described the picture thus: ‘The idea is that of a Siren, or Sea-Fairy, whose lute summons a sea-bird to listen, and whose song will soon prove fatal to some fascinated mariner.’”