They flee from me (Valentine’s night special)

Well, perhaps it is unwise to,
but I’m planning to surprise you,
because today’s a very special day.

Now I’m pacing in the dark
while I’m waiting in the park;
I know you like to walk from work this way.

And it’s true I do feel nervous,
still, there’s no one to observe us,
and I’ve cleaned my teeth and shaved and had a bath.

And I’m sure it will go fine;
I just need my opening line.
No time to waste: you’re walking down the path.

Now I don’t want to blow it
So I pick my favourite poet:
Sir Thomas Wyatt. Now I cannot miss!

Well it’s too late to change tack,
so I open up my mac,
and speak the words: ‘dear heart, how like you this?’


----
Apparently Americans aren't familiar with the word "mac". It's a Mackintosh -- a full-length raincoat.

Here's a bump up of last year's offerings for the sacred day of Valentine, especially to note the last two by Matt Q.

Any new contributions?

What, no women entered this? I'll try to think of something.

Okay, here’s one.

SONG, IN IMITATION OF CHRISTINA ROSSETTI, AND
BEGINNING WITH A LINE BY EDMUND WILSON

My brain is like a piece of cheese
that quivers with a million mites.
My brain is like a fast ballet
where all the dancers split their tights.
My brain is like a Ferris wheel
whose rusted gears have ceased to work.
My brain is bleaker than all these
because my love is such a jerk.

My brain is like a wildebeest
that hears a lurking lion roar.
My brain is like a movie crowd
stampeding for the exit door.
My brain is on a shopping spree,
the birthday of my life has come!
Because my love is such a jerk
and finally I’ve dumped the bum.

Nice one, Gail (especially for the wildebeest) :-)

My Only Love

I love this boyish, tennis waist,
This chin, this nose, that noble poise,
Although I note with some distaste,
Those lines like lace about the eyes.
I love the timbre of this voice
That rings enticing to my ear,
Adore the way no vulgar price
Denies me things I must have, dear.

You give me all your love and passion,
Not one scintilla do I lack
When I reciprocate I ration
My love for you - but hey, stand back
For just a moment and see why,
you worship me as much as I.

Gail, great poem!

Matt,

Don't know how I didn't see this two years ago. This is great fun and would almost certainly get picked up by Melissa Balmain's Light, and probably others, if you were to send it out in the lead-up to next year's Valentine's Day.

Two nits (not that you asked):

and I’ve cleaned my teeth and shaved and had a bath.

The "and" breaks the rhythm and this piece needs a perfect rhythm. I'd cut it and change the punctuation leading in.

The first two lines are trochaic tetrameter, and that pairs well with the pent that ends the stanzas. But this is trimeter: "Now I don’t want to blow it." If you want the meter the same, just uncontract "don't."

Anyway, this was fun.

Another bump, 2020

A Sirius Valentine

She’s Nature’s art in full disgrace
beginning with her longing face.
Below her bangs the eyebrows mate,
her eyes are runny, teeth like slate.
Her ears, unlike smooth tiny seashells,
swing a lot like misshaped cowbells.
Her twitching nose is ski-slope long
and never has inspired a song.
With lips severely under-drawn
and tongue that yaps from dusk to dawn,
with sour breath to make one reel,
this is one gal no one would steal.
But I’m a pooch who loves her smile
when we’re embracing doggy style.

That's great, Ralph. I love it!

Thanks Martin, for the dog treat!

The Vanity of Valentines

With a crayon he carefully crafted hearts
and rhymes, but Rose refused his dinky cards.

His card with perfect Palmer Method strokes
evoked a tiny smile and big No thanks!

In flowing cursive lines at St. Jude’s High,
he wondered why she broke their date that day.

At Yale, his digitized ditties of lovers’ fables—
sweet tweets—made Rose call him predictable.

He turned to sonnets for their subtle nuance,
as grails and verbal icons of romance.

His Skyped recital of chivalric myths
won him Rose for twelve long brutal months.

A shrink now tweets him jokey Valentines.
His muse mocks him in fourteen cruel lines.