Henrietta

Henrietta
———
.
That name inspires other images
than an enthusiast might project.
Alhough it’s true you’re a literary vampire –
greedily feeding on the words you read –
you nurture and protect.
Where another would stalk and plot to select
another choice piece of meat;
another choice piece of flesh;
to pierce and tear to shreds unless
such fickle fate may bring
a crucifix, clove of garlic, mallet and stake
or the impending light of the dawn of a new day –
a metaphor for these words we say.
.
They are those who cheat
Who lie with deceit
Who moan and sweat to manipulate
Words so sweet
To words that bait
to sate their lust for hate
Our words spoken in trust become
words spoken too late
To take back, correct or perfect to the letter;
Edit, tittilate or fetter;
Until we’ve retracted all the worth in the verse
and escaped the vampire’s curse.
.
No longer will I fraternise with those
Their coin is lies
Their eyes are bright with the emotion
Sucked from a million memories faded
In a melting pot of values traded…
[insert forgotten lines]
.
Until we soar to the great heights
That I’ve seen you at this very night
Then we are indeed right to forget pain and grief
We should indeed strive to those heights reach
For with angels and enthusiasts to
Guide our way and light our path;
The true artists amongst us will be
Emancipated at last.
.
.
.
[end/arken1999]