Tag Archives: romance

At The Start

At the start
A heart
I sought.
I thought
That I caught
Delicious fish,
A dainty dish
For a sorrowing king,
But the thing
Was an eel.

The first deal
Being done
I continued to run
After fun.
The sun
Sometimes shone
(As it does today)
As I half-heartedly did play
At romance.

I still dance
From time to time
And, perchance
The false
Is set down in rhyme.


On seeing a happy couple

On seeing a happy couple, I smile
For there is no denial
That love
Is good.
Yet, after a while
I can not help but ponder on
How love is here, then gone.

Each joke
Which now produces laughter
May cause her to choke
On her anger in the end.
Or perhaps she will pretend
And maintain
A fixed smile to hide her disdain.

Coupledom is fun
Until her dress, thrown haphazard on the floor
Loses it’s alure
And his sweaty feet
Forever defeat
Passion’s heat.

Future Love

In the future, will robots dress
To impress?
And will men and women sigh
Over a lover’s imperfect thigh?
And choose
To lose
Their very being
In the never seeing
Robot eye?
For therein does lie
For there can be no rejection
For you or I.
And one can not sin
With a thing of tin.

In My Youth

In my youth
To tell truth
Every girl appeared to me
To be
A spark to ignite.
My flame burned bright
And I would take delight
In puppy dreams.
Now it seems
That I have too much
As I at nought but phantoms clutch.

I have delighted
In desire
And received a kind of satisfaction
Through what the vulgar term “action”.
Their fire
Is often cold, although
A few I know
Make a show
Of pretending it is not so.

Come the 1st of May

Come the 1st of May,
Will you stay?
Shall we make romance
Our goal
As we dance around the Maypole?
And demonstrate to God above
Our abiding love?”

“My darling I will stay,
Come the 1st of May.
But you must pay
For my new dress
So as to impress.
Each girl
As I around the Maypole twirl.
Why dearest one, your face shows such distress …”.

The Introspective Rake

So many
Have I known.
Penny after penny
In the lone
Of cloying scent.

Toying with love of a kind,
I find
Myself destroying
What little I had
In a sad
Fake dance
Of romance.

Some names I remember
(Their May to my December).
But can winter cold
The summer sun?

May will, for a while
Through fixed teeth,
Then, ere winter’s fun
Is done
Ushering in his brief

May is gone
And December flirts with June,
But she is soon
To play
With another one,
Though Cupid’s bow
Is never shot.

Is a hotbed of sweet sigh
And lie.
Stop there
For August fair

Turn to years
And Winter nears
His end.
Why pretend
It was not a life misspent
In scent,
And scent.