The Prostitutes Lover. Poem by Wade Harlaine

She came to me in the spring of my heart
tempestuously gazing a smelting allure
stoking such passion a cataclysmic start
Mine innocent heart infected for sure

Eyes unable to avert her beauteous presence
Though timidly wayward when wantonly met
Intoxicated completely by her mystical essence
Like the male preying mantis my destiny set

All conscious reasoning negated by love
Though reviling her mantle, an outwardly nymph
I remain inescapably whirl pooled no sight of above
Descending with haste to my misery plinth

I vowed to be with thee that was my decree
My solitary witness the madness of my mind
Though you are blackened by vanity unable to see
A prostitute’s penance, thirty silver must find.

How to convince, your worth beyond remuneration
I see your self purgatory and weep for your soul
And pray for it intensely like a feverish congregation
every waking moment your saviour my goal

Years of futility your absence immerses me with regret
My mind rides waves of misery as Poseidon splits oars
he eviscerates all olive trees, your name inexorably set.
Aphrodite sends pestilence, turning all women to sores

I gave up on my Helen, Hades welcomes with applause
Disgusted heaven turns its back as they bolt fast the doors