Let Her Go

A tempest flares

In an age of storms.

At a maiden I stare,

When only women roam.

Coarse poetry replaced,

With vulgar prose.

It is not the time for me,

Let her go.

The world conjures riddles,

Whilst I quote rhymes.

They love for status,

When I long to be blind.

And who can give more,

Than a beggar?

In love we receive,

When we have nothing.

A cloak remains soaked,

Without footprints.

Sonnets by quills,

Lie unread, and so unwritten.

Love knows not love,

It only sees prisons.

It is not the time for me.

Let her go, let her go.

In an age when blood sickens,

Too much of it we see.

So when love cries profusely,

They all look away.

From a duel I lay slain,

In the age of murder.

They arrest the man,

Who would fight for your honour.

When a dozen roses arranged,

Are more beautiful than but one picked flower,

In this time did I find you,

Let her go, let her go.

When street lights protrude,

I stare at moonlight.

And when lamps bath rooms with silhouettes,

I flicker by starlight.

I hear a wolf baying,

Amongst the murmur of street life.

How else could you find my taste so bitter,

Let her go, let her go.

In structures now modern,

I sit and stare.

At works timeless,

For I was with you there.

The clock recedes,

And before art we are one.

By Velasquez alone now,

Let her go, let her go.

by Haemophiliac…

23 June 2006.