deepundergroundpoetry.com
SLAVE TO THE SIREN SONG
Through raging storms or starlit skies
Seasonal waves crash against my hull
Heard the beauty of the last home
I’ve inked poetry with blood soaked dye
Upon the skin on my sun bleached skull
I am slave to the siren song
WHEN THE BELL TOLLS
THE TREE OF WOE
FROM MOON TO SUN
OF WHAT THEY SUNG
Through the nebula haunted cold night
Departed by peers deceased and null
Holding the remnants of their bones
I am deaf to the wailing of wights
Intoxicated by their honeyed cull
I am slave to the siren song
Seasonal waves crash against my hull
Heard the beauty of the last home
I’ve inked poetry with blood soaked dye
Upon the skin on my sun bleached skull
I am slave to the siren song
WHEN THE BELL TOLLS
THE TREE OF WOE
FROM MOON TO SUN
OF WHAT THEY SUNG
Through the nebula haunted cold night
Departed by peers deceased and null
Holding the remnants of their bones
I am deaf to the wailing of wights
Intoxicated by their honeyed cull
I am slave to the siren song
Published 23rd Jun 2021
Author's Note
© 2021 Frank Green
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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23rd Jun 2021 00:19am
I like this my poet... I had to chime in while running on my treadmill to let your know that... mmm... very nice ink.. enjoy
25th Jun 2021 10:04pm
29th Jun 2021 3:15pm
"I’ve inked poetry with blood soaked dye
Upon the skin on my sun bleached skull"
~ u got "Boom!" right there! ;)
you have layered this in gothic darks.. makes one feel the chill of dark oceans, in a time long past, replete of souls, save for the siren call.
much enjoyed, Sir Hades.. be well mfriend,
~d
Upon the skin on my sun bleached skull"
~ u got "Boom!" right there! ;)
you have layered this in gothic darks.. makes one feel the chill of dark oceans, in a time long past, replete of souls, save for the siren call.
much enjoyed, Sir Hades.. be well mfriend,
~d
