Happy Valentine's Day!
My Velentine's treat to you are two poems. The first is a poem by Stanley J. Sharpless. I don't know if he's a "poet" but this poem won a magazine contest in England for the best poem about the aphrodisiac effects of chocolate. I found it republished in Len Fisher's How to Dunk a Doughnut:
Cupid's Nightcap
Half-pat nine - high time for supper
"Cocoa, love?", "Of course, my dear."
Helen thinks it quite delicious,
John prefers it now to beer.
Knocking back the sepia potion,
Hubby winks, says, "Who's for bed?"
"Shan't be long", says Helen softly,
Cheeks faintly flushing red.
For the've stumbled on the secret
Of a love that never wanes.
Rapt beneath the tumbled bedclothes,
Cocoa coursing through their veins.
Just goes to show the 1950s weren't as puritan as they seem looking back, eh?
The second is one that I wrote a few years ago and that just today won the Valentine's Day Writing Contest that my work put on for the staff (there was also a contest for the students). It's a parody of The Passionate Shepherd to his Love by Christopher Marlowe:
The Passionate Hipster to his Love
Come out with me and be my love
And we’ll the weekend pleasures prove
Of bar and club and Indie show
To look like we are in the know.
After we have seen the band
We’ll sit the patio, beer in hand
And to prove we’re intellectuals,
We’ll wax existential.
We’ll lounge the grass of Philosopher’s Walk
Being a hip enough place to sit and talk.
Languishing, discussing out classes
While you gaze at my Elvis Costello glasses.
And I will buy you beaded rings
Made of Fimo and hemp-woven string
A T-shirt screened with an ironic slogan,
A courier bag all covered with buttons
And because it’s deck (and I’m low in pocket)
It’ll all come fresh from Kensington Market.
As I expound just what my heart meant
We’ll spend alternate nights at each other’s apartment.
My undying love I to you avow,
Well, anyway, at least for now.
Come out with me and be my love
And we’ll the weekend pleasures prove
Of bar and club and Indie show
To look like we are in the know.
After we have seen the band
We’ll sit the patio, beer in hand
And to prove we’re intellectuals,
We’ll wax existential.
We’ll lounge the grass of Philosopher’s Walk
Being a hip enough place to sit and talk.
Languishing, discussing out classes
While you gaze at my Elvis Costello glasses.
And I will buy you beaded rings
Made of Fimo and hemp-woven string
A T-shirt screened with an ironic slogan,
A courier bag all covered with buttons
And because it’s deck (and I’m low in pocket)
It’ll all come fresh from Kensington Market.
As I expound just what my heart meant
We’ll spend alternate nights at each other’s apartment.
My undying love I to you avow,
Well, anyway, at least for now.
My winnings include a hardcover copy of Brick Lane by Monica Ali and a bottle of Henkel champainge.
o( )__
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