Right. Me neither.
But that changed when I read some of the entries sent to the paper during a poetry contest it held recently. Submissions had to be a two-line poem and consist of the most romantic first line (please refer to above picture), followed by the least romantic second line (please refer to below picture).
“My darling, my lover, my beautiful wife
Marrying you has screwed up my life.”
“I see your face when I’m dreaming.
That’s why I always wake up screaming.”
“Kind, intelligent, loving and hot.
This describes everything you’re not.”
“Love may be beautiful, love may be bliss,
but I only slept with you ’cause I was pissed.”
Is it me, or do all of these sound like they were written by men? Oops, seems I spoke too soon.
“I thought that I could love no other …
… that is until I met your brother.”
“What inspired this amorous rhyme?
Two parts vodka, one part lime.”
“Roses are red, violets are blue, sugar is sweet and so are you.
But the roses are wilting, the violets are dead, the sugar bowl’s empty … and so is your head.”
You know, some real thought went into many of the submissions here. Malicious ones? Perhaps. Potential circumstantial evidence? Possibly. But still, it’s the thoughts that count, right?
“I want to feel your sweet embrace,
but don’t take the paper bag off of your face.”
“I love your smile, your face and your eyes.
Damn, I’m good at telling lies.”
Yes, yes. Gratuitous use of yet another bulldog picture – guilty. But at least they fit the mood here. Sort of.
And finally, last but not least, viciously speaking …
“My feelings for you no words can tell,
except for maybe “Go to Hell.”
Sheesh. Can you just feel the love oozing all over here? Why it’s so strong, it’s almost … poisonous.