THESE ARE ENTRIES TO A WASHINGTON POST COMPETITION
ASKING FOR A TWO-LINE RHYME
WITH THE MOST ROMANTIC FIRST LINE,
AND THE LEAST ROMANTIC SECOND LINE:

1. My darling, my lover, my beautiful wife:
Marrying you has screwed up my life.

2. I see your face when I am dreaming.
That's why I always wake up screaming.

3. Kind, intelligent, loving and hot;
This describes everything you are not.

4. Love may be beautiful, love may be bliss,
But I only slept with you 'cause I was pissed.

5. I thought that I could love no other
-- that is until I met your brother.

6.. 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.

7. I want to feel your sweet embrace;
But don't take that paper bag off your face.

8. I love your smile, your face, and your eyes
Damn, I'm good at telling lies!

9. My love, you take my breath away.
What have you stepped in to smell this way?

10. My feelings for you no words can tell,
Except for maybe 'Go to hell.'

11. What inspired this amorous rhyme?
Two parts vodka, one part lime.

WHO SAID POETRY IS BORING

I see a whole neew line of greeting cards here.

Keith

Reminds me af a lullaby:
Go to sleep, go to sleep, close your big blot shot eyes
You're a dope and you're a nut, and i hope you dont wake up.

Bugs Bunny?

This reminds me of a parody done to Cold Cold Heart a long time ago:

I tried, so hard my dear, to show
That you're my every dream.
But every time I see your face
It makes me want to scream.
You look much better to me, love,
The farther we're apart.
Why don't you go sit on a stove
And melt your cold, cold heart?

You know how much it makes me hurt
To see you sit and cry;
But you could cry much better, dear
If you had another eye.

When you walk through the door, my love
You make my eyeballs smart...
Your liver may be warm but you
Have got a cold, cold heart.

Or something similar...

Excellent iambic septameter.

I am remembering a poem of doubtful provenance and dubious quality:

Roses are red,
Violets are blue,

Most poems rhyme,
But this one don't.

Most lovers are lovely,
Most love is requited,

You ain't,
And neither is yours.

quote:

A poem of doubtful provenance and dubious quality

And yet, truly stunning...


My father taught me a rhyme, taught to him by his much older brothers:

Mary had a little lamb
Whose fleece was white and silky
And every time it raised it's tail
There was Wendell Willkie.

(Wilkie was a presidential candidate in 1940)