Valentines, pro and con?
 

Anti-Valentine Cards

My all too picky bride
My love won’t be denied.
Myself that you hold dear
I worship in my mirror.

You once called me a mannequin
As if my poses were a sin.
I think you are an elite snob
Since daily posing is my job!

You are a witch, it’s true,
Who boils me in your brew.
I’ve one last word for you
I’m perhaps, maybe, leaving you.

Don’t worry, dear, what’s up above:
I suffer unrequitable self-love.

Valentine’s Day Poem

Strophe

I ask myself: would you incline
to be my willing Valentine?
Perhaps I should be asking you,
it seems the proper thing to do.
But you’re already spoken for!
Life’s played this trick on folks galore.

Antistrophe

I may be spoken for, but this
goes for you too! Since wedded bliss
unites us each day of the year,
I’d have to say the way is clear
for you to give that card to me.
And on it, put your minstrelsy.

13.ii.2018

I wanted to be wholly loved
By you and you alone
And now I am, I wholly want
Just to be let alone.

First turn water
into wine
and then improve
a Shakespeare line
and make the sun
at midnight shine
and bring me back
a kosher swine,
and I shall be
your valentine.
(Otherwise
I will decline).

Nice ones so far!


Cupid’s strikes are random treasure,
lasting gifts of painful pleasure.

A Valentine Wish

Let not your whippersnapper's dart
Sting me in yonder hinder part,
And yet, if you should prick but me,
I pray the gal I see is she
Whom through the barnyard I have spied,
Whose hair is brown like Bessie's hide,
And like the pond, her eyes are blue,
Whose lips are red and moist like dew,
Who tosses bales outta the barn,
Who spins a tale as well as yarn,
Out-burps the boys, but blushes too,
Who belted me a time or two,
And yet her hands are soft as down,
And skin is slightly sun-baked brown--
For her I'll happ'ly bear the dart
Perchance you poke my hinder part.

Adios, St. V!

Talkin’ ‘Bout My Gal

Of classic beauty there’s no trace
when I behold her wretched face.
Below her brow one eyebrow bristles,
her eyes are rheumy, teeth like thistles.
Her ski-slope nose is always twitching,
and runs a little when she’s bitching.
Her chin and face don’t seem akin,
so far from matching it’s a sin.
And tangled hair, to top it all,
looks like a muddy waterfall.
But I forgive her ticks and fleas
when my pup‘s panting at my knees.

I like to watch you sleep and know you’re mine,
and then throughout the day, make plans for you.
Imagine what we’ll do, my Valentine!
I like to watch you sleep and know you’re mine,
though you don’t have a clue: I leave no sign
of entry. But this card’s to say it’s true.
I like to watch you sleep and know you’re mine,
and then throughout the day, make plans for you.

Sweetheart, my love for you is measurable
in continents. Is taking things too far
a trait all lovers share? You fill me full!
Sweetheart, my love for you is measurable
in oceans, rivers, lakes, the moon’s pale pull,
the tides. Yet though you are my own Pole Star,
sweetheart, my love for you is measurable:
Incontinence is taking things too far.

My Dirty Valentine

Darling, O dearest, delight of my heart,
my apologies for this so tardy card,
but life is pressured whilst we are apart.
My roving eye competes against my bard
and mere utterance results, such as "More!
My God!" or "Fast! Yes!" O my dearest duck.
And what lyric could I sing from the floor?
And what rhyme might I find for a girl named Puck?

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.

My Feelings Stayed the Same
 

My Feelings Stayed the Same
----------------------------

Girl, you don't love me anymore.
once you soared, but now you're bored.
Well, you're gonna get the blame
'cause my feelings stayed the same.

Bitch, you really make me mad.
You have no right to be sad
'cause I treated you real well
but you ditched me like I smell.

Why d'your father call the cops
when I smacked you in the chops.
Girl, I had to make you pay
when you dissed me yesterday.

I can't see you anymore
cause your father barred the door.
I can't take you to the prom.
Don't he ever hit your mom?

You are just a rotten flirt,
and my feelings have been hurt.
Well, you're gonna get the blame
'cause my feelings stayed the same.

The Lady's Reply
 

The Lady's Reply
-----------------

You write again to waste my time
a letter filled with sticky rhyme.
Hyperbole and outright lies
describe my cheeks, my lips, my eyes.

"She walks in beauty like a dream,
her eyes like pools, her skin like cream."
I say it's more like cottage cheese
with eye-bones filled with moldy peas.

You say that love's all you require;
'tis carnal favors you desire.
Your syrup does not pass my test,
so go away, persistent pest.

A Half-wit's Sonnet for February Fourteenth
 

A Half-wit's Sonnet for February Fourteenth
------------------------------------------

Oh, valentine, when did you turn a lace
bedraggled heart, a paper sentiment
of simpered verse? A dollar fifty-nine
will buy your empty Hallmark couplets set
in tawdry hearts of cardboard chocolate reds
and dime-store lipstick pinks. What fool would toss
such bottles on the breakers of romance?