Siren Song Poem by NurViktoria Ellen

SIREN SONG
As you sit on top of the world
overlooking Mount’s Bay,
sun-swept and worshipping
yet another carefree season,
don’t expect Blue Flags.

Listen.

The sea cries,
meaningful, but in a foreign tongue,
pleading.
Her lament
is a sorry tale and easily
drowned out.
Groundswell quickly buries the discarded shells
of the convenienced traveller.
Out of sight out of mind.
Along the watermark
allsorts are gathering at random, dumped amongst
the semi-precious stones and stranded stars, then carried off
out to sea
and back inshore
where litter dunes attract the gulls attack the senses
stun the unsuspecting beach-comber.
Weeping, neap-tide spreads oilslick suffocates bladderwrack and pebbles.
In the rockpools the marooned
limpets find peace
is no longer green and clear.

Listen.

The sea cries.
Or is it my voice, D’Esperanto, breaking?