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Matilda Nov 2020
All hallows-eve does she dance,
A nimble skip in her steps.
All hallows-eve does she dance,
Grace lighter than a thimble.
All hallows-eve does she dance,
A fairytale entwined by her alone.
All hallows-eve does she dance,
Her beauty far greater than the light shone.

I watch her constantly by hallows-eve
A beauty held by thee.
Thine eyes far more than the jewels of thieves,
A being deemed only for me.

 All hallows-eve does she dance,
A lost angel of the dawn.
All hallows-eve does she dance,
Her watcher constantly drawn.
All hallows-eve does she dance,
With sisters of threescore by her side.
All hallows-eve does she dance,
A daughter of evil, one of a kind.

She is no angel of heaven,
A beast that roams the earth,
With a lucky number of seven,
No holy is she to say the least.

All hallows-eve does she dance,
A beast that changes form.
All hallows-eve does she dance,
A feast meant for the eyes.
All hallows-eve does she dance,

My love for her never dying.
All hallows-eve does she dance,
A love made with lying.

I am a creature of the sea,
Thine caller and sinker of ships.
She is a beast of the land
Thou’s hands of blood at her lips.

All hallows-eve does she dance,
As light steals through.
All hallows-eve does she dance,
When morning light is due.
All hallows-eve does she dance,
By light does she return form.
All hallows-eve does she dance,
A newer different sight.

She has returned to the truth,
A beast of cruelty and sin,
With fur of golden sunshine youth,
A sad but noble thing.

All hallows-eve does she dance,
No longer does she dance.
All hallows-eve does she dance,
Her glorious stance done.
All hallows-eve does she dance,
Return once again to her true form.
All hallows-eve does she dance,
A beauty gone by dawn.
An old piece I wrote almost 10 years ago. It's actually the piece I'm the most proud of!

Critique away!
Sylph Nov 2019
A blanket of light
warms me
As i glide through the waters
with my selkie friends at my side
darting through the water
and teasing me for letting my thoughts get the best of me
I remember

He saw me
His eyes the color of the forest
His hair the color of fire
We fell for each other
And the string on our finger pulled us like magnets into each others arms

We spent so long together
And i loved him
More than life
I loved our daughter
More than my sea

But the pull
It tugged at my heart
At my mind
my skin
My soul
I couldnt resist its call
i tried
and tried for years

but i couldnt fight a match that had
never been possible for me to win in the first place
I couldnt fight my home
My very being
The beholder of my soul

I know they will forgive me one day
Our tight knot can not undone

Not even when
                                  Fate cuts my string
This is based off some selkie myths and legends
Seán Mac Falls Feb 2017
( Sonnet )*

I once caught you naked by the sea,
No one noticed, such noble shyness,
Invited to worlds, aloof as sun breeze,
Of purple sands, heathered highness.

In novae of your eyes was shipwreck,
Forlorn beacon chiding the weary lost
Of new worlds lumbered on the decks,
Seabirds caroled up wing, heavens' loft.

Skin, fleshy of netted eel, salt and foam,
Was hide for a brigand, lubbers sessions,
Sheered by sheen, blinding sky of gloam,
Stars runged on their draped processions.

My seal, now fate, cloak within jubilance;
Coral sea wave, slips under moon dance.
In Celtic myth, if a man steals a female selkie's skin she is in his power and is forced to become his wife.  Female selkies are said to make excellent wives, but because their true home is the sea, they will often be seen gazing longingly at the ocean.  Sometimes, a selkie maiden is taken as a wife by a human man and she has several children by him.

Selkies (also spelled silkies, selchies; Irish/Scottish Gaelic: selchidh, Scots: selkie fowk) are mythological creatures found in Scottish, Irish, and Faroese folklore.  Selkies are said to live as seals in the sea but shed their skin to become human on land. The legend is apparently most common in Orkney and Shetland and is very similar to those of swan maidens.
Jack Jul 2016
sleek seal skin shining
reflects off my pale blue plates
your sharp teeth breathe hate
lure melancholy to me
i call you oblivion
i wanted to experiment with writing tanka form. i really do like it. i threw in some alliteration
The moon at midnight
Upon a silent sea
Casting Her glow, iridescent
The waves break in hushed tones
Upon sandy shores, glittering,
In the dark of night
Receding water leaves behind
Pale bodies, sleek and stunning
White and whiskered
Drinking in Her magnificence
They shed their skins
Walking arm in arm upon this earth
Creatures of both land and sea
Naked and gleaming bodies, thrive
Beneath the stars, unseen, unheard
Quiet and graceful as the lull of the ocean
Dancing, singing, siren voices
Until the first light of dawn breaks, then
Back into their silken selves
The tide rolls in, and out again
Taking with it
The moon's sweet daughters.
/Aye, she belongs to the sea
The moon, her mother and the land,
Agh, the land be her lover
For at night she visits and joyous,
Joyous in the moonlight she sings/
Many mornings now,
as day opens its sky eyes
to early sunlight,

Silence pervades all that I am,
or might ever want to be.

Speaking is natural, and life goes on,
but for the tug on my heart,
to go deeper, ever deeper
into the ocean of silence.

Ancient lands of my ancestry
are calling me
to come home now
be near the sea.

My own sea, salty and blue,
red rocks plunging
into stormy union
with ultramarine.

Be that I was selkie, I was mermaid,
I know these places where I lived and loved,
breathing underwater in perfect, silent freedom.

Perfection, a sidhi,
might be,
to live as a sadhvi selkie.

Knowing timelessness
through ancient, silent wisdom,
feeling, loving, living
and swimming in unboundedness.
A sadhvi("good woman") is the feminine counterpart of a sadhu("good man") , seeking moksha, enlightenment through the path of renunciation. Most sadhus are yogis; not all yogis are sadhus.
(Thank you, Wikipedia, for giving me a place to check my facts.)
Sidhi, is Sanskrit for a perfected ability, be it compassion
or yogic flying.
See the Yoga Sutras of Patajali for more on this beautiful subject.

©Elisa Maria Argiro
No human husband
could ever hold me.

Comforts, gathered,
began to stifle.

While he slept,
I would search.

Somewhere, my
seal's skin
was hidden.

It was just a
matter of time.
©Elisa Maria Argiro
Peter Davies Apr 2015
The selkie sits on solemn sands,
Her hair a curtain wet.
She sings her songs of splendid seas -
A shining silhouette.

Her lily coat lies loosely strung,
Her shoulders slim and white,
She sighs with sounds of salty spray;
A voice of naught and night.
A play on Irish folklore and alliterations

— The End —