Bought me blue roses,
And served me seafood salad
And dizzying red wine,
Best Valentine of my life.
I love you funny Valentine at all cost
All your bad habits I laugh them off
How you wear your clothes a certain style
Boisterous of course with colors loud
I love you funny valentine yes I dare
Speak to you kind love your kinky black hair
And in the eve your peace is with me
Despite the rat race and warring in street
I love you short I love you tall
And in between I love you all
Love your licorice laugh and your chocolate eyes
And when mad love your ego and pride
And when you’re bad love your candy lies
Running so fast with your caramel thick thighs
I love your tears you keep inside
When you let them out we both cry
Love you past present future days
Love you young and as you age.
Even when you betray love you still I will not shade
We all can be real and make mistakes
Funny Valentine my love is your fate.
be my valentine
my purple heart pants for you
karate belt too
Written February 4, 2019 Contest: Valentine Senryu
Sponsor: Tania Kitchin
I love you like a four-year-old
loves playing Hunt the Thimble:
I want you like Inspector Gerard
wants cuffs on Richard Kimble.
As Mork has eyes for Mindy, I
am crazy, too - no, loonier!
But, to ensnare you, I'll do "square",
like Efrem Zimbalist Junior.
As Elly May loves critters, and
young Jethro worships Jed,
I tell the world that you're my girl,
verbose as Mister Ed.
I seal each letter with a kiss,
just like I'm Brian Hyland:
immaculate in every way,
immune from dirt, or tooth decay,
you've never known a Bad Hair Day,
like the girls on Gilligan's Island
Glasses tinkle and there's a steady murmur of
conversation as the club quickly fills to near capacity.
He sits nursing his vodka tonic, waiting for the show
to begin.
The house lights dim and the stage is spot-lit
as the musicians take their places. Chatter modulates
to rapt attention as the first notes drift into the air.
The band has chosen a ballad, 'My Funny Valentine'
and the familiar strains bring claps of recognition
from the audience. He closes his eyes to concentrate
on the music, pleased they are playing her favorite tune.
The moment is so powerful she is right there with him,
swaying to the rhythm, nestled in his arms,
light as a feather.
It's a long, gentle rendition, almost twelve minutes.
The band takes solos, drawing every nuance from
the old standard, their improvisations bold and fresh.
As they return to the melody the tune gradually
dissolves into silence.
The patrons respond with sustained applause.
When he opens his eyes he finds himself surrounded
by dancers, lovers in each others' arms,
cradled in his own embrace.
My Valentine, oh how I love thee, from head to toe
The one whom every day I see
My Funny Valentine is simply me
Beautiful vibrant woman, that's definitely me
One who loves herself from land to sea
Romance, chocolates, a single red rose
Delightful I suppose, to some and I assume to most
As for me, my own funny Valentine
A toast to me, for being content within me
...a prose poem
Glasses tinkle and there's a steady murmur of
conversation as the club slowly fills to near capacity.
He sits nursing his vodka tonic, waiting for the show to begin.
The house lights dim and the stage is spot-lit
as the musicians take their places. Chatter modulates
to rapt attention as the first notes drift into the air.
The band has chosen a ballad, 'Stella by Starlight,'
and the familiar strains bring claps of recognition
from the audience. He closes his eyes to concentrate
on the music, pleased they are playing her favorite tune.
The moment is so powerful she is right there with him,
swaying to the rhythm, nestled in his arms, light as a feather.
It's a long, gentle rendition, almost twelve minutes.
The band takes solos, drawing every nuance from
the old standard, their improvisations bold and fresh.
As they return to the melody the tune gradually
dissolves into silence.
The patrons respond with polite and sustained applause.
When he opens his eyes he finds himself surrounded
by dancers, lovers in each others' arms,
cradled in his own embrace.
Roses are red
Violets are blue
I’m up for a quickie
Do you fancy one too?
13th February 2015
...a prose poem
Glasses tinkle and there's a steady murmur of
conversation as the club quickly fills to near capacity.
He sits nursing his vodka tonic, waiting for the show
to begin.
The house lights dim and the stage is spot-lit
as the musicians take their places. Chatter modulates
to rapt attention as the first notes drift into the air.
The band has chosen a ballad, 'My Funny Valentine'
and the familiar strains bring claps of recognition
from the audience. He closes his eyes to concentrate
on the music, pleased they are playing her favorite tune.
The moment is so powerful she is right there with him,
swaying to the rhythm, nestled in his arms,
light as a feather.
It's a long, gentle rendition, almost twelve minutes.
The band takes solos, drawing every nuance from
the old standard, their improvisations bold and fresh.
As they return to the melody the tune gradually
dissolves into silence.
The patrons respond with sustained applause.
When he opens his eyes he finds himself surrounded
by dancers, lovers in each others' arms,
cradled in his own embrace.
My funny valentine
Are you truly mine?
It’s more then Cupid’s arrow
Has wounded you this time
We’ve taken now a course
That casts us in remorse
‘Or never was a place for us
Your fertile ground discourse
But am I one to blame?
For casting you in shame
When all the world does conjure up
Their way to wreck and pain
There must to some degree
Be room enough to be
But vision says
And eyes report
My sentiment to thee
Will time run out of time?
Deliver this to mine
And tell her that
I loved her so –
My words run out of rhyme