[John Whitworth]

Ah poems about love. To it, my hearties!

No. 2785: love rules

You are invited to submit poetic advice on how to woo a member of either sex (16 lines max.). Please email entries, if possible, to lucy@spectator.co.uk by midday on 13 February.

[John Whitworth]

Love Rules

I club them first, then drag them to the cave,
Then chain them to the sink with all the rest of them.
You tell me this is no way to behave,
But how else would I happen on the best of them?
Besides, this is the way we always do it – e
Ven if a fresh approach might be more fun.
What we do now we do in perpetuity
Because, because that’s how such things are done.
It’s called tradition. I’m traditional,
Conservative – old-fashioned if you like –
And certain loyalties are unconditional.
If you think differently, then on your bike.
In my world men are men and act according.
And none of this is live, it’s a recording.

[Brian Allgar]

Well, here I am, calling on the services of old Bill (not ours) again.

Today, I shall instruct thee how to flatter,
And thus improve thine amatory skill.
(‘Tis true, I have some knowledge in the matter,
And where there is a way, there is a Will.)
Fear not to be outrageously poetic:
“More lovely than a summer’s day” must please her;
“Eternal summer”, though it be emetic,
Was used, reputedly, by Julius Caesar
To win the Queen of Egypt to his bed.
Cold ladies melt when warmed by adulation,
And fawning flattery ofttimes has led
To that devoutly wished-for consummation.

xxTomorrow’s lesson: how thou may’st enjoy
xxThe saucy favours of a pretty boy.

[Jerome Betts]

As unreformed male chauvinist
Here’s my advice on getting kissed.

Although it goes against the grain,
First say nice things about her brain,
Her way with words, her feisty wit,
Her choice of reading (not chick-lit).
However little evidence
Hint at a subtle fashion sense
(The key words here are verve and flair)
Then segue into things like hair,
Nose, eyes, complexion, legs and all
(For short, petite, for gangling, tall).
Established as a man of taste,
Now risk an arm around her waist . . .

If she turns out a firm resister,
Dump her, and try it on her sister.

[Jayne Osborn]

Now, gents, if she’s at all like me (or ‘I’,
it ought to be; let’s get the grammar right),
don’t buy her perfume, chocs or flowers. Why?
They’re boring. This will bring her much delight:
Give her some stationery! A notebook, pen
(especially a “git posh” fountain type)
or gorgeous writing paper. Savvy men
will listen -- and ignore the usual hype.

Roses just die and chocolates just get eaten.
Perfume? How do you know which one will suit?
Good stationery, quite simply, can’t be beaten.
That is the way to woo, if you’re astute.
And, please, – no underwear with frills and lace;
find her a super-duper pencil case!


(My husband's boss introduced me to the phrase "git posh" - I love it and I've been trying to work it into a poem ever since!)

[Lance Levens]

Any chick who wants this monster's heart
will have to pledge to take old Grendel's part
and help me tidy up the cave a bit
and I don't mind a tad of woman wit;
but let's not get too uppity or sassy
(here's the tibia of the last such lassie).
Now don't go getting old Grendel wrong.
I'm liberated, good at Donkey Kong.
It's just think the wifey needs a solid back
To carry home the chow, Geats in a sack.
It wouldn't hurt if she could launch a spear.
and work up for our table a ten point deer.
and the hot sexy stuff that treats me right:
a belch and legs like rock to pass the night.

[Brian Allgar]

This is clearly going to be an immensely popular competition - five entries (so far) the day it was announced, and four of them sonnets.

They're all very entertaining. I particularly liked Lance's

but let's not get too uppity or sassy
(here's the tibia of the last such lassie).

(... but Lance, there's something wrong with "It's just think the wifey needs a solid back", and too in the next line should be to.)

Jayne, it's good to see you not only back, but turning in a piece with which even you will have difficulty missing the deadline!

[Jayne Osborn]

Jayne, it's good to see you not only back, but turning in a piece with which even you will have difficulty missing the deadline!

Thank you, Brian; it's great to be back and, having got a Speccie HM for the "New Year Resolutions not kept" comp, I made a New Year Resolution not to submit my entries at the 11th hour (or even the 11½th hour! )

Jayne

[Brian Allgar]

Here's an odd one - shades of Browning? I've invented a couple of details, but it's basically true. And what amazing music he wrote!

The rules of love? Good Sir, my wife betrayed me -
Yes, me, Gesualdo da Venosa, Prince,
And Count of Conza. She most foully played me,
So love’s a subject I’ve abandoned since.

Her lover I dispatched by sword and gun;
On her, I used a well-honed hunting-knife,
And when I saw that she was not quite done,
I slit the throat of my adulterous wife.

My only solace was my composition,
My madrigals, my sacred Tenebrae,
For music counteracts the soul’s attrition,
And, through the darkness, brings a glimpse of day.

My love-life, I confess, has been dramatic;
Perhaps that’s why my music’s so chromatic.

[RCL]

In Her Hip Pocket

In her hip pocket, like a pupal worm,
I’m making every effort to sustain
my love for her—she thinks I should remain
back here, a dormant mute, to reaffirm
devotion. In this cocoon, I feel alarm
about my fate but try not to complain.
Bruised at times by buttocks, and in pain,
I still can’t voice my dream—to finally charm
my way from heavy hips up to her face,
where I, unfolding like a chrysalis,
my mandibles aquiver for a kiss,
might light on rosy lips and taste her grace.
I fear this larval state will never pass:
she holds me hostage here to kiss her ass.


Ralph