Roses are red
Violets are blue
Some poems rhyme
But this one doesn't
Found elsewhere
Some milkshakes come with straws for two.
Some parks are made for skipping through.
Some views are made for sighing over.
Some folks hold hands in fields of clover.
It's Valentine's Day - know what I'll do?
I'll celebrate being over you.
I hate you, you're icky, you're like an old leech.
I hate you, you look like a whale that is beached.
Your ego's the one thing about you that's great.
You're so crap in bed I'd rather, er, read a good book.
I hate you, you think you're so gorgeous and cool
But you surely crawled from a defective gene pool.
You're a moaner, a droaner, a grouch bag, a whinger -
You've even got pubes that are luminous ginger.
Some people are jolly, they greet you with smiles
And not just a grimace because of their piles.
Some people are grown ups and treat others well.
Some people don't send out a god-awful smell.
Some people show kindness and love without end -
These people are all of my favourite friends.
It's Valentine's Day - so we'll throw a great bash:
I'll stop dating old bangers - just eat them with mash!
Anna Morgan
"Give us a bash at the bangers and mash",
My darling used to say,
YOU may be good for a few minutes,
But bangers will last me all day !
Prof.
There was a young girl reading law
Who found parties a bit of a bore.
She skipped the Valentine's bash
And ate sausage and mash
Saying "This is what evenings are for"
Deborah Caedel
Hip Hip Hurray, the time has come
For all lovebirds to sing their song,
All the birds that is but one
Coz valentines cards? I got none!
The cards are so expensive
A complete waste of money
Some of them are sick, or sickly,
And most aren't even funny.
The price of flowers goes up
The price of chocolates too
No tables free in restaurants
So I'm forced to eat home-made goo.
Hip Hip Hurray, the time has come
For all lovebirds to sing their song,
All the birds that is but one
Coz valentines cards? I got none!
Helen Penguin
VALENTINE SHMALENTINE
All the kissing couples
And the teddy bears in mugs.
Annoying shaped balloons.
And big pink cards that promise hugs.
Cupid's arrow didn't hit
Me anywhere this year.
So me, myself and I will
Drown our sorrows in some beer.
The 14th of the 2nd month
Is just another day.
So why the crazy air of love?
It just gets in the way.
I'd rather go out with my friends
Or sit at home and read.
I'd like a boyfriend, yes I would.
But its not a desperate need.
So "down wiv valentiney things"
"Down wiv love" I say.
Down with all the bears in mugs
ITS JUST ANOTHER DAY!!
Charlotte Scadeng
VALENTINE'S DAY, 2004
The only light's orange, from outside,
and the crack under the bathroom door,
interrupted by the shadow of her shoes.
You find it hard not to pick at the holes;
it's late, in the flat on Magdalen Street,
and it's gone too far; it's become tired.
You're glad that she's tired.
When she's asleep, you slip outside
in your old coat, standing in the street,
counting up symptoms by the narrow door.
For one: the coat carries a full quota of holes,
but she's far keener to get rid of your old shoes.
Could it ease things, to tell her about the shoes?
No; you've tried to explain it before. You're tired
of her inability to understand the value held in holes.
One time, she bagged them up, and left them outside
a charity shop. You found them in a wire bin, by the door;
bought them, and took them back home to Magdalen Street.
Perhaps you could tell her: this is dust from home, the street
where you played in the summer evenings, without shoes;
the tree-lined street that lead you to the ever-open door
which you finally closed as you left them behind, tired,
waving from the kitchen, too old to venture outside,
waiting patiently to be laid in their paired holes.
Or perhaps tell her: these were the holes
that let in the water on Magdalen Street.
You listened, in the darkness outside,
for the sound of the tap of her shoes
over the falling rain, wet and tired,
but still, waiting at her door.
There's new carpet inside the front door.
On this, the saddest night, the only holes
are those torn in clumsy haste. Too tired
to keep it up anymore, you quit the street
for the bed a last time, dragging you shoes
up to the flat, the birds starting up outside.
Close the door, and leave them on the landing, outside;
they may be a tired excuse, but the holes in those shoes
are all that'll endure this last night on Magdalen Street.
a.h.
The pathway to my heart is strewn
With gifts which don't cause me to swoon
Malodorous, over-priced flowers
Which wither and die within hours
Fattening sweets I despise
Bringing cellulite straight to my thighs
Tacky red cards with the line
‘Dear Valentine won't you be mine'
So if it's my heart that you seek
Please listen to these words I speak
Send cupid away
Forget Valentine's Day
We can resume our courtship next week
F.S.
Bother... Tell me what to get!
Soft toys, heart shaped cakes and red
Roses scattered on the floor?
I can't take it anymore!!!
Feel like hiding in the pub
And consider breaking up.
But as you might feel like me -
Let's go out and grab a tea.
Antje Kastner
How do I love thee, let me count the ways.
There were the first four times you turned me down,
Once in The Gardner's, three in The Crown,
There was the twice you were drunk enough to agree,
And the twice you had somewhere better to be.
There was the once you slept with my best mate Ray,
The ten times you told me "he's as great as they say..."
The five times you laughed,
The four times you snickered,
Nine failed attempts to get into your knickers.
There are the dozen red roses that I wont be buying
There are ninety-nine tears that I wont be crying
Cause me and five mates are having a bash
We'll be stuffing our faces at Bangers and Mash.
