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Part 1

One summer in our youth group was a boy
I met.  How I would love to understand
if what he’d felt was equal to the joy
that bloomed in me when he caressed my hand.

His elfin features feminine and fine
revealed him to be prettier than me.
His legs and trunk seemed half the width of mine
and deeper than his skin his delicacy.

He fretted, changed his moods; and ulcers grew
inside him.  Once atop a ferris wheel
he vomited, and I was young and knew
that we were through. . . but how he’d made me feel!

Oh, where is John?  I ask; no one can say.
We’d never really kissed. . . Had he been gay?

     Part 2

Where I grew up, a gent was hard to find
who shared my faith, and so I launched my search
for someone who was handsome, good and kind
at monthly dances sponsored by my church.
Across the river lived a Mormon guy,
tall, blue-eyed, intelligent and sweet.
I was sort of wild; he was shy,
but at a youth event we planned to meet.
Although at every chance we kissed and cuddled,
I sensed he thought I’d bring him to perdition.
I was his “Bathsheba” left befuddled.
Then later, Alvin went and served his mission.
So what if Mr. Perfect let me go?
He drove and spoke and moved annoyingly slow!


             Part 3

Eduardo was a Spaniard from Madrid.
I met him on my study there abroad.
I won’t list all the many things he did,
but I’ll attest that some of them were odd.

Eduardo was “muy guapo,” (very cute),
But still he was concerned that he was not
some burly hulk, so jackets to a suit
he wore downtown in June when it was hot!
And once, though I could not catch every word,
he had with his own mom an argument.
His threat to take his clothes off was absurd,
but when she screamed, I knew he was indecent.

I’d closed my eyes; I should have sneaked a peek. . .
I then could give a more complete critique!

*I have entered these in the This Poem Really S##ks Contest of Jerry T. Curtis with one of my first sonnet trilogies I wrote back in 2002. I was in a poetry club at this time, and after posting each sonnet of the trilogy separately, I received a very rude message which was posted anonymously to me. The note basically rejoiced that I would not be showing any more sonnets like these and told me they stunk. What is strange is that it was a private club and it had to be somebody I knew that had hated either me or the poems so much that he made an effort to reach me by some account that was not even recognized by the club (Only I could see the message. nobody else would see it). I'll never know who sent me that email, but it was my first time to be criticized in a rude manner. I have had a few other occasions since, but this was my first one. Are the sonnets that bad? You tell ME!!
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