Brain t
ripping
Mind s
lip
ping
Pain receptors
Mal
functioning
Sometimes
— often —
almost always
A simple grip I can't
Man age
Time
. . .
T
I
C
K
S
Can’t stead—
y
My b a
lance
Lacking clar
ity
Bitter duality
Poisoned
Singularity
Pre—
frontal
complex
About the Creator
Paul Stewart
Award-Winning Writer, Poet, Scottish-Italian, Subversive.
The Accidental Poet - Poetry Collection out now!
Streams and Scratches in My Mind coming soon!
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The Salt in her Voice
The myth says mermaids sing to lure sailors to their death. But why? The ocean is huge. Only 5 percent has been discovered by man. Why would a creature of the sea with that much space to roam ever care about the fate of men on ships? The answer, as it turns out, is not a simple one at all. The truth about the myth is older than the tides. Long ago before the first ship ever cut across the surface, the sea made a pact with the sky. The sky would take the souls of the drowned. Anyone who died in storms or any quiet accidents of the deep would have their soul lifted upward to the Heavens while the bodies would remain below, feeding the oceans endless hunger. The greedy sea however wanted more souls than the sky would claim. So it created mermaids. It gave them beautiful voices woven from currents and moonlight. It commanded them to sing. "Bring forth the ones who float where they should sink." it instructed them. So they did. They never killed out of malice but out of obligation. They sung to summon, not to seduce. A mermaid's voice could loosen the tether between the body and soul, making any man step willingly into the water. The sea would take the body and the sky would take the soul. Balance maintained.
By Sara Wilson4 days ago in Fiction
Comments (7)
Agreeing with Bill and A.J. below! I love the structure of this one, Paul. Well done!
Love it, love it, Paul. The form you've written in this perfectly enhances the vibe. ⚡💙 Bill⚡
Great poem, Paul. ;) Although I felt as if it was written in the throes of a stroke ;)
Relatable :( Aging is a load of bullcrap Up until a couple years ago I kinda romanticized it. But my mid thirties have shown me the threat of whats to come. Great poetry Paul. The line breaks relly drive home a disjointed feeling that fits the theme perfectly
I can picture some of my old patients when reading this poem. Thinking maybe you were having a TIA (transient ischemic attack). Good job.
I love the way you played with the words on this one, tearing them apart on different lines to emphasize the mental breakdown.
Too much whisky last night? Love this!