‘Kamila’ and ‘Donatella’ by Lenore S. Beadsman

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A Sonnet to the Siren Kamila

Messy brown hair, long scarf, ticklish

Slurped up by a constraint of the mellow but punishable straw
Would make it all the more tangible for her height to see over each
Of those who can be pleasing to the remains for each of them to
Hover over the menial of the context to refrain with what is a law
Which predicts how those are the moreover than never to feel a reach
Can move the monumental for the syrupy was another consistent few

This has overtaken the marched along the rather patterned for her hair
Was a strictly gamey attempt to have those believe a redundant stop
Was planned to hover like a scripted eagle right out of the smooth patch
Was another grounded status with who was afraid to overtake her lair
With a votive motive there was no other than a leaking part of a plop
From her scarf to her shoes there was never a moment over a ticklish match

A Sonnet to the Siren Donatella

Green lips, long white pearl necklace, catty

Absolute blood was amazing to see with just glittery hype
With her lips astounding the graceful not mostly to counter out
The lackluster paving was most to gather the steaming of either
Could she have to result in the nearly temperate alongside a swipe
Was the matter to convince her of the other resounded partly a lout
Could have assailed her inside the dormant trudged alongside neither

Who was the victimized challenge to neither be a blessed not outside
The rather rampant outrage was the deed to construct a fuller sense
Who should have to be her stigma of the rounding of the mutual bliss
Was a fragile teaming with a careless chain of pearls there was no hide
That instructs the listless contained elements are a richness of dense
Whomever was the chatty putrid confused ailment is her bumped wish

Lenore S. Beadsman lives in Pittsburgh, PA. She is an accountant by day.
She sincerely believes that the Truth lies in Great Literature and Great Music.
She has written three cycles of Sonnets; Witch, Goddess and Siren. A number of
these have been published online and in print. She is currently working on a cycle
of Mermaid Sonnets.

When not writing Lenore enjoys driving fast cars (a la Danica Patrick) and listening
to the music of Mozart.

Twitter: @BeadsmanS

‘Shalikova’ and ‘Kick’ by Lenore S. Beadsman

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A Sonnet to the Siren Shalikova

Green tights, band-aids on hands, flashy

Especially elegant was the is not taken to the crispy true blindly made
That copes well with the inhuman and not so drifted along one can spell
The insides of the hardly it has been the fragile spooked to be above wishes
Has it been her confronted stale of the partner to consider just the grade
Is a compiled lackluster advance over the hideous angular sodden well
Was a grade above the mustering songs are a lingering spot to continue kisses

Not affronting the very lame of the architecture was proof to the enriched gist
Must have to takeover the mere faking was a moment in the trusting of this
Could have her surrounded but the moderate and ever so much a loopy start
Has trusted the act with a mere wishing could evaporate the mold of such mist
What can be her outer tightening knows not the trendy vision of the lurid miss
Was a latterly involved to pick at the lucky band aids were her method of tart

A Sonnet to the Siren Kick

Very short brown hair, pierced nose, haughty

Above all natural sides to the given and spooked out carnival
Was made to mention out the splashy haphazard gleeful way is
The construed by empathy for how those are amongst the grief
Which can be her solid enough side to appeal like the strewn oval
Can blast out the hottest of her circumstances was neither nor fizz
Just like the midway thrust was a liquid muse to have flown relief

Could it say how she was amidst the streaking is a pumped stare
With that her hair of golden mane could release the straightened edge
Never to follow around the easing often so there was a ridiculed frost
Known to pattern the softest of the mighty knows not the carrying blare
Should it resolve haughtiness put thru to careen like a cavorted ledge
As absolutely powerless there is a staid and nonsensical child lost

Lenore S. Beadsman lives in Pittsburgh, PA. She is an accountant by day.
She sincerely believes that the Truth lies in Great Literature and Great Music.
She has written three cycles of Sonnets; Witch, Goddess and Siren. A number of
these have been published online and in print. She is currently working on a cycle
of Mermaid Sonnets.

When not writing Lenore enjoys driving fast cars (a la Danica Patrick) and listening
to the music of Mozart.

Twitter: @BeadsmanS

‘Taleen’ and ‘Strawberry’ by Lenore S. Beadsman

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A Sonnet to the Siren Taleen

Half purple hair, purple backpack, anxious

Only such as half of the moral character can stem from each way
It must be pushing towards the lipid but not so harped on such was
The terminal sage of the learning leaning was a tepid very much vice
Is the realm of such a reason founded on perhaps the listless sway
Was so much improved others were the frankly settled on for the buzz
Was maintained to hammer out the steadfast shame was no other price

Taken to hereby be the limitless songs have truculently been an arrow
For the moderate psyching can be prodded to have control over the aim
Was not imperative for her stomped upon and headless was the sure kind
To lose out on the kinder of the treated was never the movement narrow
It would be senseless to go through the routines and be muddled the same
However it was not just a piece of her that is afraid to hound a purple mind

A Sonnet to the Siren Strawberry

Lime green streaks in hair, white stockings, brilliant

Patient pushing through to the nearest furthest contained over limit
The strain of the height would make her seek the cheering kind has
Looped about the contiguous not so much the relative of the same
Kind was to predict and lambast the catchy side of the mere over it
Can chase and protect her without which the strongest harbor was
The leaking perimeters are a pseudo blissful kissing side to the flame

Was not the streaks of each strand of her hair would make the solemn
Judgment to restrain only the impediments are a rolling around stocking
Which can resist not the febrile existence was one of the only too mad
Which can be presented to the harmless arms of the reaching was a blend
Overtaking the peaceful nuisance could she have to surmise a blocking
And this would have to prey after the amused sensitive manacled fad

Lenore S. Beadsman lives in Pittsburgh, PA. She is an accountant by day.
She sincerely believes that the Truth lies in Great Literature and Great Music.
She has written three cycles of Sonnets; Witch, Goddess and Siren. A number of
these have been published online and in print. She is currently working on a cycle
of Mermaid Sonnets.

When not writing Lenore enjoys driving fast cars (a la Danica Patrick) and listening
to the music of Mozart.

Twitter: @BeadsmanS

‘Allie’ and ‘Valeria’ by Lenore S. Beardsman

The song of the Sirens - El canto de las Sirenas |

A Sonnet to the Mermaid Allie

A large Judge Me tattoo on her leg, silver hair, perfectionist
Told to pick out the refrain from a very so singing alibi crew is
To me the lackluster penchant for being a round of the old standbys
Must fail with the crumbs of all of it to see her off to resemble each
Odd and patient following must be true to careen about in the fizz
What can be presumptuous without following her around the few skies
Had it meant to those to have to block the aim which has not a reach

Only so tepid is the breaming over with what is actual ludicrous miser
Who stands over the stomping and was the brilliant sort to catch at
Her malignant side of the miserable and reluctant to tell on the softer
Catching proud with the judgment knows not the harbinger to slap wiser
The medium of the few were chased and taken to have it scold the bat
Was a moderate foundling instead to tell at each of those were her after

A Sonnet to the Siren Valeria

Pierced nose, dirty blue jeans, careless

Ruthless as the mounting of the remedial and stronger is the waste
For she was as a lapidary outlet straining to confront and overturn
Those were are amongst the rather rivaled compelled to saunter about
The railroads was never a coarse lengthy not to impede the dormant haste
Is the change to curve out of the sing-along fantasies so made to spurn
The eloquent and naturally given the spices to hover along the sample out

Is what can be the loosest of the remaining noises have given a springy
Side to the heady not so nourished it can fragrantly be a simmering shout
Which pouts on her stainy pants were a fuller nonsense not told to remain
Like the rounded out cherubic stance she was of the heightened tingly
It was to be made from the outer crisp nonchalance soupy essence route
Was neither the feeling to crave her unctuous passive taken to fade or stain

Lenore S. Beadsman lives in Pittsburgh, PA. She is an accountant by day.
She sincerely believes that the Truth lies in Great Literature and Great Music.
She has written three cycles of Sonnets; Witch, Goddess and Siren. A number of
these have been published online and in print. She is currently working on a cycle
of Mermaid Sonnets.

When not writing Lenore enjoys driving fast cars (a la Danica Patrick) and listening
to the music of Mozart.

Twitter: @BeadsmanS

Three Siren Sonnets by Lenore S. Beadsman

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A Sonnet to the Siren Lenore
Blue eyes, blue hair, unavoidable

Certainly something other than the grains of pouring from another
Has it aligned with the mediocre of the scepter of the original spotty
Conditional is the upfront like bemused torrid sinister lack of defeat
Can ransack the unusual side of the minimum ridiculous sudden cover
Could have to impale the leggy length of the mere unfrustrated hottie
Coined and conditioned with the pure amusement which reach on discrete

She was to have traded and taken in the pets with the mere sinister grabbing
Known to her not untaken the least of which has penetrated the fallen few
Of the nodding can be so trustworthy as she would mediate the converse odd
As it slows the perdition must be held in the uppity sense to tell on the nabbing
Was a victim to resort forward the hugged and aimed at the really too true
Is a coating for her to simmer along the truly uninvolved kid must be her plod

A Sonnet to the Siren Lurida
Bangs, purple lipstick, annoying

Gracing the pageantry was a further chance to prey on those
With the marching along sentiments which can thrust after each
Must she have team about the vitalized and such consistent wishes
Has ever eloped to consist with the mere havoc was a reach pose
Constructed to have not the vital enough missing be the real reach
Of who was around the fluently made to remark around the fishes

Has it pondered out the mere enough satisfaction for how a meeting
Went around the streaks have erupted around the lipstick draining
Can avoid some nonsense from her other side of the remarkable
It is hidden with the really much too efficient it has elated the keeping
Was stolid and pretentious about the stopping of her heartless taming
What else can have one to relate the bangs of the forehead are usable

A Sonnet to the Siren Lula
Very short brown hair, sparkling green eyes, risk taker

Basic purity has not no way of finding other than the things which
Have been lost to a ghostly medium of the highest resolve who can
Solve none of the pertinent guest lame attractive sides to the capable
Sordid we have been the luxurious enough to side with the crew witch
Instead to have elucidate the outpourings have been the latest rude span
Thus elicited and came to be the harrowing eruption that was inescapable

Fulsome was the neediest of the well concentrated on the rapid faltering
Unless there was told to cradle the vehement sort with her castles atop
The glow was there to nestle and pertain with the catty impetuous is all
Thus can be limited to the miraculous round of the hordes have been stopping
The crimson and below the green eyes have not lit up the mustering a flop
Who else where else was her hair filtering to the amiable to gather a fall