[Billy Dean]

With Valentine's Day just around the corner, I thought it might be fun to amuse each other with poems we've written for our significant others. Maryann said it would be OK to do that here in D&A, so here's one I wrote many years ago for my late wife. Please add yours...

Silent Seal

This kiss my lips to yours --
a wordless "I love you."
Whispered up a bit more close
than I usually do.

Spoken not from mouth to ear,
this silent touch a seal,
but lips to lips confessed to you,
an oath that you can feel.

May it match the ones you know
in your pleasant dreams.
And may you plumb the deepest depths
of what it simply means.

On open heart and just closed eyes,
now let this kiss write true.
Well cross my t's and dot my i's,
I'm still in love with you!

--Bill

[Nicholas F.]

Choice Virtues

After Roethke

Her voice revealed an A440 tone
that played upon the eardrum’s finest bone;
she’d tune the truest fork.

When laughing, subtle lines beside her eyes
bespoke a happy age—and oh, her thighs
were of the goddess sort.

Old T-shirts would suffice for when in clothes;
her every hint of honey crossed my nose
just like a waiter’s cork.

She trembled there. A tension in her frame
would peak, then fall in grace. She sang my name
in whispers’ sweeter chords.

She was the gymnast; I, prone I, the mat,
caught trodden underfoot in capers that
she blithely would abort.

[Orwn Acra]

the Anti Love Poem

you.N.D.E.S.I.R.A.B.L.E.

[Donna English]

Orwn, HA! You're bad!

[Donna English]

Cell Phone Valentine

________)))) ! I’m sorry, honey. ____________)))) ! Worked til eight.
________)))) ? I would have called you…__________)))) ? Really late.
________)))) ? I Love you tons, babe. _________)))) . What's wrong now?
________)))) ? You’re big time sexy. _________)))) ! Ten pounds! Wow!
________)))) ? I’m more than happy. __________)))) . Aren‘t you, too?
SSSSSSHHHSSSSSS you SSSSSSHHHSSSSSSS me? SSSSSHHHSSSing you.

[Maryann Corbett]

At the Newsstand


Confronted with these stacks of mattes and glossies,
I hesitate. Whose message do I trust?
The market's rocket leaps and lead-weight losses?
The climate change debater's boom or bust?

Front pages where all human love has failed?
where towers burn in photos black with smoke,
or local politicians grimace, nailed
on bribery charges? Trust? Now there's a joke.

And yet I keep on trusting, as do most,
in posed tuxedos, froths of lace and tulle,
in staying put, not totting up the cost,
in staking life on one well-chosen soul,

pledging, while headlines roar and falsehood rages,
faith in the personal ads and wedding pages.

[Gail White]

OLD LOVERS

Old lovers sleep in double beds.
They do not need much space to sleep.
With curve of arms and bend of legs
They shape themselves for dreaming deep.

Old lovers feel each other’s breath
As ships in harbor feel the tide,
A subtle current underneath
That pulls them to each other’s side.

Old lovers know each other’s touch.
Even in sleep the warmth is there.
Lifting the mind’s unconscious latch,
Bridging the intervening air.

Old lovers wake in double beds,
Narrow, but still with room for two.
They kiss with gray but breathing heads,
Ready to see the white hairs through.

[Cally Conan-Davies]

Gail!! Did you really write that?? That's perfect!!

I've never written actually written a valentine, but a "significant other" wrote one for me once. I know he won't mind if I place it here. I still love it!


Lux


When it finally came
we knew, we knew
just how to use it.

Playing in it
we put it on,
became visible,
showed ourselves to each other.

I filled both hands
poured it over
your hair
watched it run down
your arms
and thighs and ankles
the sparkles and glints
tickling you to laughter.

From you it spread
across the sand
the rocks, the grass

it poured
over the sea, the sky,
dissolving the dark.

[Martin Parker]

VALENTINE

I bought you red roses, a big box of chocs
and a gross, red plush card with a heart that unlocks.

But the heat of the words in the heart that unlocks
wilted the roses and melted the chocs.

So all I have left is dead stalks and a box
and this gross red plush card with the heart that unlocks.

Is there any chance you might still agree to come to bed with me?

[Ann Drysdale]

To My Valentine…

Never importunate. Un peu distrait
From time to time, I readily admit,
But all my cards were tailored to display
The pudding, without over-egging it.
I’ve exercised my talent to amuse,
I’ve juggled, clowned and teetered on a wire,
Grimly determined never to re-use
A tired metaphor, an old idea.
Now, five cards later, it has come to this:
Ringmaster Valentine has cracked his whip -
Circle of sawdust, smell of camel-piss,
Cue lights! Cue music! - and I’ve lost my grip.
Sixth time around and I have nothing new.
Tell me, Beloved, am I boring you?