The Poet

The Poet

Sunday, November 29, 2015

My Wounded Psyche (the myth of love) ©2015 by Ronald S Porter

The Sirens' song has tortured my ears.
Harpies tried to claw out my eyes.
Like Echo, of old, I called out for love,
'til all i was was a whispered voice.
And, you bent at the water's edge
as your reflection fell in love with you.
More than twelve labors, I performed
and wandered long in odyssey.
When I looked on Love's face,
in candle light, 
that's when love was lost to me.

No comments:

Post a Comment