"sirenic" poems - Hello Poetry

in the waves of your gaze my ship bursts into dreams as my mouth watering for yours fills me with unease endlessly longing to permeate on your reverie steam to dim the lights of your sirenic breeze to undress the complexity of your mind scheme i solemnly live to hear your name that even the silences scream

0

Mar 13, 2018

Mar 13, 2018 at 11:26 AM UTC

luci-g

my thoughts when our eyes meet

in the waves of your gaze my ship bursts into dreams as my mouth watering for yours fills me with unease endlessly longing to permeate on your reverie steam to dim the lights of your sirenic breeze to undress the complexity of your mind scheme i solemnly live to hear your name that even the silences scream

26

An amorphous cave hides behind a cascading flow of crystalline blue, sparkling and shining like radiant glass. Inside the incandescent cave, an effervescent and ephemeral scent of dulcet cinnamon coalesces into the air of the inside of this seemingly halcyon cave. The feelings, the emotions, the sights, all too inexorable in it's ineffable reality. It calls out, with it's mellifluous and beautiful, languid and sirenic voice, incandescent with epiphany, "Come child of man, meet me, greet me, welcome me, me as the idyllic felicity some dare to even dream of, and then let me embrace you and enrapture you and encompass you in my incorporeal and frozen, evanescent tranquility." This ephemeral and serene cave now even murmurs and sings a tranquil symphony suffused with rhapsodic zeniths. It... It truly was ephemeral... A horrible shriek, a shrill and a repulsive and repugnant and rancid smell. A decrepit cacophony of hollow, anguished wailing and screaming. Pain at my soul, and a harsh, hoarse and coarse voice filled with slaughter and cataclysm. A grotesque, hirsute maladroit leech, visceral and shunned from everything and everyone, even the Earth itself...

0

Sep 11, 2015

Sep 11, 2015 at 12:55 PM UTC

SnowWolf

The Ephemeral-Epiphany Cave Of Traps

An amorphous cave hides behind a cascading flow of crystalline blue, sparkling and shining like radiant glass. Inside the incandescent cave, an effervescent and ephemeral scent of dulcet cinnamon coalesces into the air of the inside of this seemingly halcyon cave. The feelings, the emotions, the sights, all too inexorable in it's ineffable reality. It calls out, with it's mellifluous and beautiful, languid and sirenic voice, incandescent with epiphany, "Come child of man, meet me, greet me, welcome me, me as the idyllic felicity some dare to even dream of, and then let me embrace you and enrapture you and encompass you in my incorporeal and frozen, evanescent tranquility." This ephemeral and serene cave now even murmurs and sings a tranquil symphony suffused with rhapsodic zeniths. It... It truly was ephemeral... A horrible shriek, a shrill and a repulsive and repugnant and rancid smell. A decrepit cacophony of hollow, anguished wailing and screaming. Pain at my soul, and a harsh, hoarse and coarse voice filled with slaughter and cataclysm. A grotesque, hirsute maladroit leech, visceral and shunned from everything and everyone, even the Earth itself...

7

Finding you is like loss my phone Crazy, miserable and unlivable Missing you is like trying to get you out of my head Hard, hurt and pain Seeing you is like saw a rainbow in a sky Happy, love and excited Talking to you is like hearing a song Melodious, tuneful and sirenic Touching you is like holding a feather Soft, warm and cold Loving you is like addicted to drug Addicted, loss and non-stop. (m.i)

0

Sep 16, 2013

Sep 16, 2013 at 5:07 AM UTC

helplessly

Is Like

Finding you is like loss my phone Crazy, miserable and unlivable Missing you is like trying to get you out of my head Hard, hurt and pain Seeing you is like saw a rainbow in a sky Happy, love and excited Talking to you is like hearing a song Melodious, tuneful and sirenic Touching you is like holding a feather Soft, warm and cold Loving you is like addicted to drug Addicted, loss and non-stop. (m.i)

13

Sometimes... I cannot hear your thoughts Your mind to me Is like smooth jagged glass Beneath a pool of liquid winter A lake of crystallized silence. It hurts. Sometimes... I cannot feel your emotions Your face is like an empty mask A hollow shell Your eyes are depthless glass Living ice. I can feel your heartbeat I can hear you breathe Tears flow down my cheeks, Freezing in your frigid warmth. They sound like antipathy. Sometimes... We kiss Mental screams against silence Passion against nothingness Motion against stillness You don't lie You don't speak You do nothing at all. There're no roses amongst the thorns. Sometimes... I hear you speak Flowers blooming in winter Blood burning through snow Your voice is a sirenic thing Filling me Maddening me Tearing my heart apart. A captivating inferno. A glacial wind. A numbing kiss. Your voice is poison. I crave its touch. Sometimes... I wonder if you're a corpse I wonder if you're hollow I wonder if you forget to feel. Your smile Is an existential thing. Your laugh Is a detached melody. Your stare Is an empty dream. Arctic indifference. Words fading into the wind. Sometimes... I can only see you An aloof statue A pitiless observer. Tears flow down my cheeks, Freezing in your frigid warmth. I no longer understand you Perhaps, I never did. Flowers blooming in winter Blood burning through snow My devotion To a narcissistic fascination Your voice is a sirenic thing There're no roses amongst the thorns. It hurts. I wish to **** you. You don't lie You don't speak You do nothing at all. Your face remains an empty mask Mental screams against silence Arctic indifference Decayed insanity Inert image upon darkened glass. What do I do with all these feelings? You will not die. It hurts.

0

Mar 19, 2015

Mar 19, 2015 at 3:16 PM UTC

dia95

UnReflected

Sometimes... I cannot hear your thoughts Your mind to me Is like smooth jagged glass Beneath a pool of liquid winter A lake of crystallized silence. It hurts. Sometimes... I cannot feel your emotions Your face is like an empty mask A hollow shell Your eyes are depthless glass Living ice. I can feel your heartbeat I can hear you breathe Tears flow down my cheeks, Freezing in your frigid warmth. They sound like antipathy. Sometimes... We kiss Mental screams against silence Passion against nothingness Motion against stillness You don't lie You don't speak You do nothing at all. There're no roses amongst the thorns. Sometimes... I hear you speak Flowers blooming in winter Blood burning through snow Your voice is a sirenic thing Filling me Maddening me Tearing my heart apart. A captivating inferno. A glacial wind. A numbing kiss. Your voice is poison. I crave its touch. Sometimes... I wonder if you're a corpse I wonder if you're hollow I wonder if you forget to feel. Your smile Is an existential thing. Your laugh Is a detached melody. Your stare Is an empty dream. Arctic indifference. Words fading into the wind. Sometimes... I can only see you An aloof statue A pitiless observer. Tears flow down my cheeks, Freezing in your frigid warmth. I no longer understand you Perhaps, I never did. Flowers blooming in winter Blood burning through snow My devotion To a narcissistic fascination Your voice is a sirenic thing There're no roses amongst the thorns. It hurts. I wish to **** you. You don't lie You don't speak You do nothing at all. Your face remains an empty mask Mental screams against silence Arctic indifference Decayed insanity Inert image upon darkened glass. What do I do with all these feelings? You will not die. It hurts.

80

It began one dim Saturday morning: I was the lost pilgrim around, He was the most dignified luminary. He turned out to be my stockholm syndrome The closest thing I had to a light We used to look around Back then We wanted to see the whole world We wanted it all. One morning One sirenic morning I will always despise We decided to look around too much Down the street there was some goddess She was gracious It was nothing- yet not so pointless From that moment on Our string twisted The edges grew distant And then it happened Oh no! He stumbled upon the ***** Alas, that goddess who wasn't anything. The air It was sharp, so excruciating The next day I thought my system had broken I thought my chest had burst into flames (But I was actually overreacting a little.) But still he is in my thoughts I think About how it all changed that a.m. I am letting hope blaze My eyes... Ouch! When I think of that far-flung dream The luminary and myself.

0

Dec 14, 2015

Dec 14, 2015 at 8:40 AM UTC

elzwards

You Must Be Kidding Me

It began one dim Saturday morning: I was the lost pilgrim around, He was the most dignified luminary. He turned out to be my stockholm syndrome The closest thing I had to a light We used to look around Back then We wanted to see the whole world We wanted it all. One morning One sirenic morning I will always despise We decided to look around too much Down the street there was some goddess She was gracious It was nothing- yet not so pointless From that moment on Our string twisted The edges grew distant And then it happened Oh no! He stumbled upon the ***** Alas, that goddess who wasn't anything. The air It was sharp, so excruciating The next day I thought my system had broken I thought my chest had burst into flames (But I was actually overreacting a little.) But still he is in my thoughts I think About how it all changed that a.m. I am letting hope blaze My eyes... Ouch! When I think of that far-flung dream The luminary and myself.

35

*the foolish thing about me is that even in the most starless of nights i swear i see your face in the sky thin contrails define the contours of your face and the faint luster of the quarter-moon is your sirenic beam illuminating my lonely castles in the air this solitary heart of mine can't bear to scatter the stones for my feeble soul will only gather each and every last one splintered my fingertips under your vicious spell like in a catalepsy i cannot depart will build myriad statues; columns of tributes chastely paid down to your fangs crooked, eyes black, hair crimson gossamer, $2 acid green leather shoes and cigarette fixed between ghastly ripe lips uttered infinite slanders and sins then the swan song sang way too soon i am tethered to your morbid grandeur prisoned by your hard-bitten disposition such enticing torment i revel in*

0

Feb 1, 2015

Feb 1, 2015 at 9:19 AM UTC

990520

x

*the foolish thing about me is that even in the most starless of nights i swear i see your face in the sky thin contrails define the contours of your face and the faint luster of the quarter-moon is your sirenic beam illuminating my lonely castles in the air this solitary heart of mine can't bear to scatter the stones for my feeble soul will only gather each and every last one splintered my fingertips under your vicious spell like in a catalepsy i cannot depart will build myriad statues; columns of tributes chastely paid down to your fangs crooked, eyes black, hair crimson gossamer, $2 acid green leather shoes and cigarette fixed between ghastly ripe lips uttered infinite slanders and sins then the swan song sang way too soon i am tethered to your morbid grandeur prisoned by your hard-bitten disposition such enticing torment i revel in*

24

To drown in your sirenic gaze is what I yearn for the most, even if it leads to my inevitable undoing.

0

Oct 23, 2024

Oct 23, 2024 at 10:12 AM UTC

sora-2

Sirenic Gaze

To drown in your sirenic gaze is what I yearn for the most, even if it leads to my inevitable undoing.

4

"Let me out" the figure in the painting calls "Let me out of these one dimensional walls" The figure of oil let's out a sirenic drawl, that hypnotizes the starer and makes him fall nothing can hurt you but infinity is all

0

Apr 17, 2016

Apr 17, 2016 at 3:12 PM UTC

madeline-clow

Was their a siren?

"Let me out" the figure in the painting calls "Let me out of these one dimensional walls" The figure of oil let's out a sirenic drawl, that hypnotizes the starer and makes him fall nothing can hurt you but infinity is all

5

a sirenic void entrance to detachment what is there to replace? when all there is has always been out the bin with regrettable sin the walls of boundaries are thin when all comes to an end where the **** do I begin? sashayed into a doom the corner of my room a lesson learned with grace a healthy bitter taste ******* **** my time I cannot waste I put the flower on a pedestal and not a vase sometimes wasted times wasted feeling numb below my waist copy paste erase **** I rather not face what's the point?

0

Feb 5, 2019

Feb 5, 2019 at 11:15 PM UTC

david-bojay

untld

a sirenic void entrance to detachment what is there to replace? when all there is has always been out the bin with regrettable sin the walls of boundaries are thin when all comes to an end where the **** do I begin? sashayed into a doom the corner of my room a lesson learned with grace a healthy bitter taste ******* **** my time I cannot waste I put the flower on a pedestal and not a vase sometimes wasted times wasted feeling numb below my waist copy paste erase **** I rather not face what's the point?

18