Another poem from yours truly, one that I admit was written shortly after a bad breakup (not the girl I was dating since the start of this website, a more recent one). Essentially, it’s sort of a paean to getting over one’s one-itis and reforging your masculine purpose or whatever—and that’s a lesson that anybody can learn, and we all periodically need reminding of. Even the most masculine of men:

As I said in the opening of the Love’s Reproach poem, I am very much a firm believer of HL Mencken’s views on sex and romance; namely that women are ruthless and pragmatic in the matter and men are doltish, idealistic, and romantic. At the very least, I was when I started my sexual sojourn. I eventually, without really planning to, developed mental tools to get over one-itis, and I tried to express those in this poem.

And so without further ado…

—

To Play Once More by Larsen Halleck

In days gone by through Venetian panes
The sun flowed through as I’d play Saint-Saens
Your arms on mine a romance to amaze
Still a warm memory of halcyon days
The bitter fruit of failed amour
Further contretemps within my lore
Shall the ivories sing anew?
Or an art to be shuttered, an algid flue?
The songs I wrote for her sit upon
The piano’s face with key lid drawn
My fingers hover above its face
With heavy heart I decide my pace
Does she remember those days gone by?
I find I have little reason to scry
I set my jaw to play music once more
My art cares little for any painted whore

—

This poem can be found, as usual, on Atop the Cliffs as well as on this very website. And do be sure to spread the word about my bardic moonlighting.