Song of a Siren

I am ugly.


And I know that I am.


But I have a want,


a need,


a desire



a desperation for love and beauty.

I hide behind the jagged rocks

and in the depths of the cold waters.

I hide in the darkness and sing a song that no man,

no sailor,

no mortal could ever resist.

But I yearn for the beautiful heart of a pure,


humble man.

As the wooden ships pass over the swells

I hear the wood creaking

and I can hear the sailors drunken laughter.

Their drunken voices carry loudly,

and sharply to where I am hidden.

And I cringe.

I can taste their dirty thoughts and their impure hearts

like its pollution that kills all things beautiful,

and good.

But then, I hear a heartbeat.

I can hear the clean, beautiful blood rushing through his veins

My mouth waters and I can tell that he is everything good.

I emerge from that water and I see him.



And strong.

With skin the color of wise trees

and hair the color of sunlight.

His eyes are as cold and blue as Poseidon's seas,

but yet,

there is a warmth to them.

He is my sailor.

I want his beauty and I know that a kiss

from my cold, chapped lips

will take his beauty,

and for a time,

I too shall be beautiful.

I open my mouth and begin to sing,

and to me it is sharp,

off key,

and loud.

But to him I know it is lovely.

It sounds to him like the loveliest of bells.

And a sparrows lonely song.

And as beautiful as a lone candle lit in the darkness.

He looks over the side and sees me,

and I am afraid.

What if he is deaf to my song and sees me for what I really am?


An abomination.

But instead he smiles, and his eyes light up.

For a moment I look away, his beauty is almost blinding.

I can hear the sailors shouting at him to stop,

for they have heard my wail too.

He climbs over the edge,

and he jumps.

I dive to meet him under the waves.

My hands clasp his.

Our breasts touch.

Our lips meet.

I can feel his breath leaving his body.

His lungs give out,

and with it,

his beauty.

I look into his blue eyes and see a reflection of myself.


My hair is the color as dark as the night sky.

And eyes the color of the day.

My skin is the color of the moon,

and as soft as the silt on the beach.

I am drunk on the sight of my own beauty.

My stolen perfection.

I push his now ugly body away from me in disgust.

Hades can have him now.

And even as he is sinking into the black water,

I can see that he is crying.


Ego Finale

Nice poem. I could see it all. The emotion was palpable, and the mermaid's guilt-coping (I'm assuming she was a mermaid) was well-handled. I like it.

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