[RCL]

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.

[John Isbell]

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

[Adrian Fry]

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

[Roger Slater]

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).

[RCL]

Nice ones so far!


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

[Patrick Murtha]

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.

[Kevin Greene]

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?

[Matt Q]

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.

[RCL]

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?

[Gail White]

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.