Christian Ward


The Siren - Poem by Christian Ward

I wander past boarded-up castles
stained with cigarette ash,
whiskey bottles pinging my feet.
It feels as if I'm somewhere
else, as if I slipped into a puddle
and woke in the hollow
at back of my head—gone
is the white-washed sky
of my perfect life. Life, it seems,
will always be an echo for this siren.


Comments about The Siren by Christian Ward

  • (1/4/2006 11:49:00 AM)


    i think this is probably a stronger unit than the prufrock poem although i think it suffers for the appearance of the words 'perfect life' in line 9. (Report) Reply

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Poem Submitted: Wednesday, January 4, 2006



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