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When Cupid fired an arrow in the air, Where it might land? He did not care! His only intent? To lighten his quiver, When he shot his barbed Love dart thither! So came the time, or so twas said, That another odd couple, came to wed. On their great day, the Priest did say, Tis my honour to wed this two today. Although a procedure I’ve done before, Today I say “Enough!” I’ll do no more! With vows exchanged, off they went, Priapus in his heaven, was quite content. Some thought the lass - a jolly good sort, though there were times, well? Best not report! Though for weeks she remained philosophic, Truly their union was thought catastrophic! For the one with whom she’d chose to mate, Was seldom home and stayed out late. Carousing with his pals, a drunken crowd, In marriage, such behaviour is not allowed. Tired when he finally rolled home most nights, They’d engage in a series of marital fights. Still he changed not one bit, being thick, Whilst she poor lonely lass, grew sick Of his shenanigans, so thought she’d do The same with milkman and mailman too! Even the honeymoon, had not been what she had thought, Being sadly disillusioned with the man she’d caught. Had hoped to show him some interesting ways, But he remained as ignorant, as in earlier days. So months passed by, her voice grew loud and shrill, With reality, found marriage, was no more a thrill. Many are the mistakes old Cupid makes, Blindly firing arrows in the marriage stakes. Better he’s selective, employ some expertise Towards those, who he seeks to please. His firing at random and striking whomsoever? Is a practice few condone. Seldom ever! We’ve all seen results of his mis-matching, A few weeks of bliss, then biting and scratching! Instead of those joyful bells that were heard to ring, It’s a far different tune today, that we hear them sing. They moan, complain and seldom speak: no word Passes between the two: As a union? It’s absurd! As for billing and cooing? How sweet, many thought, But now both are scarred from fights they’ve fought. As first they held hands and often kissed each other, Now when in bed, they turn their back on each other And the covers, grasped tightly, are torn betwixt the two, Which ends all thoughts they had had to bill and coo! The golden shine has left the wedding band: What kind of gold stains green upon the hand? And the diamond? That proved to be glass, And Love so promised? On it too, they pass. Mornings are like a railway tunnel, gloomy and dark, No convivial greetings, no kiss to spark Conversation or to ask how the other feels? Silence prevails when they sit down to meals. Ah Cupid, what damned foolishness you perform, When setting up marriage as the human norm. Rather they co-habit as know in modern parlance, So when separation nears, and an icy glance Severs the last bond to which some will cling, It’s cheaper to head off on yet, another fling! Both can move on, with no strings attached, And either will say, when they’re despatched, They put it down to experience, no tears shed, Which makes it easy to jump into another bed! Love, honour and obey, went long ago, As many a divorce lawyer, will tell you so, But much income comes from this human quirk, And without such largesse, he’d have to work! So encourages Cupid to fire his tainted dart Hoping it hits another odd couple, right in the heart!! Rhymer, December 9th, 2016
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