“Gerard and The Mourning Sea”

I found some old notes I had made almost a year ago. I had plans to write something like this but I had neither the plot, nor the style to do anything. Today I was simply thinking random rhymes and verses when it struck me – they weren’t random at all. I told to myself “That’s it! I found it!”, rushed home and started writing for five hours straight. This is the result of that.

Do enjoy and let me know what you think!

“Gerard and The Mourning Sea”

The Mourning Sea does gleam tonight
Under stars aflame;
Though sated she is, she might
Let us hear the name,

Whispered in a thousand screams
Fierce across the shore,
Wild beyond the wildest dreams
That we have dreamt before;

A name which no one dares recall –
The folly of a bard –
Carved onto a sunken hull,
The fisherman Gerard.

Poor gutter, our lowly drudge
With the stench of death,
Grinning wide, bearing no grudge
Towards those of wealth.

Carried by a summer breath,
Dearest Lorelei* –
Muffled echoes of a depth,
Hiding a sweet lie.

The tale sings of a sun-up
One star-crossed July,
Of Gerard, luckless young pup
And dearest Lorelei.

A blemish on her milk-white skin
And silver in her hair
Found-she in her mirror slim
And salty was the air;

And the sea was suffering
With the sighing maid;
Wailing waves were smothering,
Unweaving woven braids.

Gerard knew of her distress,
For he loved her well
And swore-he to his mistress,
His own blood he’d sell

To hear her laugh, savour again
The cyan of her eye,
For no song was sweeter than
Dearest Lorelei.

And her smile tasted of sorrow,
Caressing his tear,
For she knew that her tomorrow
Would usher no cheer.

And her words to silence fell,
Drowning in a kiss
Made of long and dark farewells
Reflecting the abyss.

Tranquil were the fetid docks,
Lined and trimmed with chum
Thrown along the battered rocks
To the briny hum.

Serene was The Mourning Sea
That scorching July,
When Gerard set sail to the*
Despair of Lorelei.

“Do not wait for me, my love;
Gaze towards the sky
That I may see the blue of
My sweet Lorelei.

Midnight’s veil shall be my cloak
And thousands, my eyes
Recalling the day I spoke
‘Farewell, Lorelei…'”

…As the boat left the embrace
Of the grasping shore,
Lorelei endured in ways
She’d never felt before;

To this day she haunts and seeks
Any ship or raft;
And sailors who refuse to speak
Suffer with her wrath.

She still yearns for stars above,
The fisherman Gerard,
Now so far from his lost love
…And farther from his very heart.

“Sing the cyan of your eye –
Cry for me, my Lorelei!”


1 – pronounced /lɔ:rəlaɪ/;
2 – pronounced /ðiː/.

This entry was posted in "Poems".

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