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Big Bang Anti-Valentines Day Poetry Competition 2007
I love my cats, all five of them.
I think they love me too.
But only if I feed them
When they pitifully mew.
How can I keep them happy?
How can I make a splash?
I know - I'll give them all the bangers,
While I eat all the mash!
roses are red violets are blue i'm alone on valentines day WHERE ARE YOU?
Alas. The dreaded v-day arrives the day in which I like so many others despise The ironic part of what I have to say is that I have a valentine but hate the day. If u love someone it should not amount to things you have paid if you truly love someone it should be shown 365 days If you hear someone spreading the v-day cheers, tell them every commercialized sap their worst fears, what would you do if your lover was queer, or their feelings were never really there how would you feel, maybe that this lovin day is not really real
So now's the time for those lovely couples to join and celebrate themselves. Problems, quarrels, doubt; forgotten Lust takes the lead today.
Yet, in reality, what are we rewarding aside from the rose-cart venders? Ever-so-gaily we eliminate truth to make room for fancy chocolates.
And alone in the corner of this cyber cafe where my chai latte doubles as my date, I am able, compelled, to see beyond their light kisses and bright-eyed smiles.
For the people we call lovers double as liars, if they celebrate only companionship. Today is truly about commitment and trust Have you allowed yourself to be fooled?
Flowers and chocolates: Dead plants cut away when in the flush of life, And food few will eat, in case of fat. 'I love you' each card, stuffed toy and bloom will say, Oh, just to show it, look how much I will pay.
Hollow saying and economic couplings, Notes - not of music - the new accompaniment to love. Who says we have become money obsessed? Just because everyone searches their roses for labels.
He looked into her eyes So bright, so round, so true A kiss he wished to place Upon her red red lips He whispered sweet sweet nothings Her love he wanted to know - 'Get lost you ugly frog! she cried 'Your stepping on my toe!
Once upon a time not so long ago, I meet a young lady covered in snow, We started flirting, And a date seemed certain, So i shot her with a bow, And now im all alone!
Rose's are red, Violet's are blue, But yours are black, And mine are too.
Love letters straight from your heart Make me afraid after dark, I'm not alone in the night, When you're in the garden, just out of sight.
Well, when you first took a shine, I thought I just had to decline... Now I'm being pursued by a loon through the park - Letters were only the start.
They analysed every line, But told me it wasn't a crime, Oh is that the crash of the bins in the yard? I'm going to dial 999.
I must remember to forget you. You plague! You disease! You infected me with you, and now I can't seem to find the cure. You curse! You bane! Like the glutton who's found his favourite food. I just can't seem to get enough of you. Pest! Nuisance! You're a tumour in the brain. Growing bigger, faster and always more genuine. A headache! A migraine! A bacteria in my mind, where thoughts of you come quicker and closer together.
You are my paranoid obsession. My life-long clinical depression.
Valentine's Day, What can I say, A corporate buyout? Or a romantic sellout?
12 roses for the lady, Expensive watches for the man, It's just not enough, To give what you can.
More is needed every year, To prove my love to the cashier, I wonder where my love belongs, With my partner, or diamond-studded thongs.
If I only have five pounds, To show my love for you, Would you make me spend it?
He loves you, He can prove it, He'll do it all today, Buy you a ring, a meal, a holiday.
It's all you need, You know it's not greed, This is love, The modern way.
Don't be silly, Don't be bold, Don't be fooled by what you're sold, All these things, Are just that...things. Symbolic of love.
Such a parody, On the greatest lover's day.
I feel sad, and empty too, Thinking of his love for you, Did he say it the day before? Will he say it ever-more?
But who cares..huh? Today is what counts, The flowers, chocolates... And the empty feeling of a plastic love.
"Sweet Valentine!" I quote you thus, this heart and flowers stuff's no must. From time to time I took a chance, and played the Fourteenth Round, Romance ... My chocolate-threaded,want to get it, hopes of wedded bliss, they went awry. You left instead, an empty bed, There're other hearts to spy. A day for love, where is that kidder? A day to recompense Is better. Un the Saint's afficionados, Send them back to other stratas. Leave us, the rest, to shake our heads, St. Valentine's? I just see red.
Valentine, will you be mine? You hear him Whine.
My love is true, He'll gush and coo.
He's full of hope, He's such a dope.
A soppy card, It isn't hard.
A bunch of roses, He supposes.
Somewhere to dine, Will be just fine.
A meal for two, He'll try and woo.
Dinner at eight? She'll make him wait.
She's not too keen, Does that seem mean?
She'll try her best, A kind of test.
He's nice enough, Just not "hot stuff".
He keeps it cool, tries not to drool.
He pours the wine, There's lots of time.
He makes her smile, It's been a while.
A special date, She thinks he's great.
Brocolli stuck to her teeth, Bra strap showing underneath.
And then she's rude, About the food
She's very proud, And laughs too loud.
Her hair's a mess. And so's her dress.
She's spoiled the mood, He liked the food.
His heart is sad, It's all gone bad.
He'd liked her so, He wants to go.
She wants to stay And make some hay.
She thinks he's hot, He thinks she's not!
He's had too much, he's out the door, He doesn't like her anymore.
A change of heart, he's had enough, This romance is a load of guff.
The card, the meal; roses and wine, This valentine's a waste of time!
Oh come al ye anti Valentines nutters, Those that are fed up of choccies, romantic meals and heart flutters, Those that are alone, devoiced or dumped, Those that hate mash potato lumped, Lets all form an anti St Valentines gang, And head of to Jericho to feast at the Big Bang.
After plates of sausages and hearty gravy, We might all start to fall in love, and call each other baby, Beer goggles to boot after a pint, or a litre, We could all trundle off to a night at the theatre, Pretend to act sober, and stifle a giggle, In our seats we our bound to wriggle, And in the interval we can sup another, And you never know perhaps cop of with a thespian lover.
Then back out into the cold well go, To point and stare at the romantics after the show, While they look on an glare with pity, We’ll jump into a taxi to empty our kitty.
Now back at home warm with a brew, Maybe, just maybe, we’ll fall in love too, As we sit by the fire and munch on cake, Well stare into each others eye and love we’ll make, Perhaps our anti St Valentines bash was fate, And will bring us closer to our true mate, So let’s remain positive and hope it comes true, If not for the love of another for the love of FOOD!
Since Big Bang You've put the Mash in Nations And your famed "Six-pack of what pork or ham?" Makes you the "King of all our Hearts"
Digby Le Roi
Platinum earrings She flaunted them to her friends Deleted his text
There was a time when the fourteenth of the second, Meant love and flowers, and romance beckoned But now after the last few years, when the day of St Valentine ended in tears, Of cards with cherubs and pink hearts, I tire They fall through the door and into the fire, Now all I yearn is a night out with the gang, Some drinks, laughter and food at The Big Bang With roast onion gravy, bangers and mash, Well call it our anti St Valentines bash!!!
Cinderella and Little Jimmy’s surprisingly awkward Valentines Day.
Went to the ball Pumpkin and all. Didn’t fall For the king He was ugly as sin You’d’ve had to push me In love with him. So my sad little bed’s As barren as the space in a dumb blonde’s head And by the 15th of Feb (It’s tragic and it’s true) The roses are dead The violets are through And all I’ve got left Is a single left shoe.
If I don’t write her a Valentine’s card to tell her how I feel She’ll Carry on cooking me ginger-bread men With cheeky grins And third legs And messages on the back written in icing sugar-writing that say “Come round after football some time today And we’ll wash your dirty gym shorts But you can leave your socks on”. I think I’ll write: Dear Mrs Robinson, Thank you for the tasty ginger-bread men I think all that icing makes them A little bit too sweet For my illegally 15-year-old stomach to eat. Love Little Jimmy.
To contemplate the roses
Six pink, six red, he had fancifully named them after the zodiac signs - the year-cycle, each flower a gift of stars, each petal a twinkling irony of deception – Were these living constellations, or just a trick of the light?
This year the song thrush is courting early - neo-Arctic winter never came - but in this chalk shot basin an unexpected chill drives needlepoints of frost through the green quilt of South Oxfordshire,
freezing the ghost of St Valentine who whittles away at the Poet’s Tree, watching the sugary fog caramelised by the torch of a stag’s antler rushing out of the giant sun through Little Wittenham Wood;
who listens to the distant swoosh of bike wheels swept against grit, of pike-like helmet cutting through wet air, of my arm-hair stiffening against the cold; who closes his eyes as I sprint away from love, forward into silence.
I’m pedalling back to my mother who stole birthday kisses on Valentine’s Day, under an ageing beech where she walked with her lover and his dog companion - leaving her husband to contemplate the roses, scattered like stars on the dark mantelpiece.
I thought you had princely charm, But your personal habits only alarm: Now I dread soup because you slurp, And before my chums you often burp. You consider it something of a laugh To leave your dirty water in the bath. You openly loathe household chores And each night perfect various snores. Your roving eyes are far too quick, And your nose you love to slyly pick. You’ve placed my heart clearly last And, so, for you, I’ll build a by-pass.
I keep thinking of you Looking for you Longing for you And still in love with you
I wonder if a Valentine will Change your mind? I dread the day, anticipating nothing.
Roses are red, Violets are blue But I don't give a toss about you. Valentine's day is a waste of my time With those tacky pink cards and their sickly sweet rhymes. Love doesn't exist, believe me, I know Those chocolates and flowers, they're all just for show. Who cares about cupids and doves and such things I don't want your champagne or your stupid cheap rings!
A Valentine Haiku
Hidden in my heart Is you with your heart open But I don't want you
Valentine's day, Guess I have to love you today, Need to surprise you with something, Gee, wow, you wouldn't expect.
Let's go out somewhere, You love it when it's crowdy, Maybe we'll find some cozy place, Where others didn't want to go.
We'll have a great time, We can do... how about what we did last year? Or maybe something original this once, I'm sure I can google something up.
I will give you flowers (I know you love them and I rarely buy), So you can feel so special, (Oh, so special) all women will envy you today.
Then we'll go back home, Of course that not too late, I know you go to work, And I would give you some good lovin' If you weren't too tired... and bored.
Everyone needs some one else to remind that (s)he is single at some stage of life.
A long haiku to Valentine's...
I see all those cards sickly pink, covered in hearts Those poor trees, I think
Who needs just that day to express the way they feel? Well, not me, I scoff
My friend gets flowers All in a bunch, very pretty Not me. I have none.
Stupid Valentine's I sit by myself, annoyed I want flowers, too.
Valentine's Day Sucks
Valentine's Day sucks There's a guy with a bow and arrow that runs amok. If I don't get you a present it's a good chance I want....you know. I've been dumped on this day and usually am sitting on my couch stuck. So I'll go to carwash and wash my truck.
As long as there are squassiges You don't need a boyfriend.
Valentine? It's never mine! No cards through the door, No wine being poured, No chocolates devoured, No talking for hours, So I sit at home, No calls on the phone, Just me and the telly, Giving the Playstation some welly So give me a meal And spare me the ordeal!!!!
This is an ode to The Big Bang The Big Bang down Walton Street way It’s an ode to their bangers and an ode to their mash They are great in their own special way.
This isn’t an ode to a lover Or an ode to a sweet smelling rose Or boxes of chocolates, and bears wrapped in silk Or the way that my love for him grows.
No, this is an ode to the sausage And an ode to the mash on the side. An ode to the gravy, and onions as well And an ode to when all four collide.
Diet Dine Valentine
No one dares to shout - A kiss costs more than a clout !
Pity every poor chap, Valentine gives his wallet such a slap.
Roses cost an arm and a leg, While chocs will never surpass veg.
But blokes fear Love's crash Like a sausage spurned by mash.
Such disasters can certainly pass If they dismiss Valentine, alas.
But her stick-thin diet makes amends As it hardly dents his hard earned funds.
Will u marry me?
It may be all in my head but it seems romance isn’t so much dead, as on the brink of extinction- display case already in place in the Natural History Museum, next to the pterodactyl eggs and Darwin’s diagram of Neanderthal Man.
How could you do that to me? She shrieks
Just an accident Like misreading a map Or not checking Your change
The December day Sinks slowly down On thin grey haunches
Why? He demands
Only an accident Like something Wild-eyed from the wilderness Mangled on a road
The December evening Sheds its mask Revealing malignant stars
You said you loved me They both snarl
Simply an accident Like an impulse That splintered And turned septic
The December night Settles down Under the spangled glory of Orion
It's valentine so you have to be cool, you wine me and dine me and act like a fool, you tell me you love me, and give me roses galore, but I see you day to day, and in fact you're a bore, so don't make out on this day you care, as I can see right through you, as your mind is elsewhere, with the chocs that you offer, and wine all night, it won't be long before you want to hold me tight, but in a week's time when you hold me again, you'll say I'm a size fourteen when I was a ten, so don't take me out just for one night, and expect me to be your delight, there's 364 more days in the year, and when you say "my valentine", thats what I most fear.
I know what you're up to, you slimy nerd, It's all in your trousers, at least that's what I've heard, So don't bring me roses, and smile all night long, As I'll laugh my head off, when you say "we belong" I dont want your roses or wine all night long, I want someone sober, so they know where they belong, I'll wear the trousers, and hold them up tight, And when I think you're more than a valentine blight, We can choose another day where you don't have to be polite, I know a nice place we can wine and dine, But please call me by my name, not something stupid like "my valentine".
I'm not giving you roses, and I'm keeping the champagne I'll drink it on my lonesome, in a bathroom lit with candles, With soft music in the background, and mirrors at appropriate angles, And that scented oil we bought last year on our honeymoon in Spain.
I'm nothing but romantic; I can't resist my charms, I've seduced myself with cut-price fizz, and roses from the garage And now I'm safe, far from your grasping, pudgy, seal-like arms, your stumpy legs, our ill-advised and soul-destroying marriage
I've persuaded me; I'm the one, I'm the ne plus quam ultra. I'm all that a girl could wish for, and that's an understatement. I've got all the goods for a lovely evening's adult entertainment, including - thank God - your absence, you greedy female vulture.
Do I like being lonely? You bet your bottom dollar I do, And your lingerie looks better on me than on you.
My heart on a plate And you ate
My soul laid bare And you didn’t care
My life bereft When you left
Gift wrapped red roses and restless hearts stirring Lines such as these set my arteries furring Pink lacy packages tied up with string Valentine's is a repulsive love thing
Creamy white chocolate and crispy fried ducky Valentine, do I care if I ‘get lucky’ Love on the 14th Yuk! Must make a dash Rather have bangers, big bangers and mash
Ladies in high heels, curvaceous hips swaying Men with their hair gelled and thoughts truly straying Brown tasty sausages stacked on a plate This is the image I’d rather create
When the love bites I just sit tight When I hear love call I simply remember my sausage awaits Love’s nothing to me, at all
"The course of true love never did run smooth" so... Let's not try to peel away our lonely Hearts like onions, They'll only make us cry At the lovelessness and hopelessness Of enduring love. Let's not get caught up in The games we play, To please or to tease, This affliction. This moment It will pass away, It's just another day called St. Valentine's Day.
Pork and Hamlet
Alas poor Yorrick I knew him well, But now he can burn and rot in hell.
Maybe his damnation to eternal fire Can fulfil my newest heart's desire.
For flame grilled sausage and mash I need. With six place – I’ll ‘ave a damn good feed!
"It was a blonde. A blonde to make a bishop kick a hole in a stained-glass window.' —Raymond Chandler, Farewell, My Lovely
* * *
You leave the Bodleian in search of a stiff drink and a stiffer man. But as you sip your highball, in walks Norman Conquest-—damn-—
—-the most dangerous gumshoe this side of the Thames. The last time you two tangled, you ended up like all the other dames.
“Hiya, babe,” he says, “The term treat you well?” You consider a brush-off, but the essay’s not due till Thursday-—so what the hell.
“You know,” you say, “I bet some girls fall for your nice-guy act. But not me. I just take the fall. Prat.”
“Listen, gorgeous,” he says, “Nobody asked you to put holes in Billy’s tux.” He’d noticed. Just your luck.
The band starts up your song, and you down the highball in one go. “Come on, kid,” says Norman, and you can’t say no.
But the lights remind you that the last time you let yourself get dazzled, Your tute partner took a one-way trip off Magdalen Bridge. Talk about frazzled.
“So tell me,” whispers Norman in your ear, “What’s the word on this week’s essay? You got what I lack?” But he shuts up real quick when he feels the cold steel of a barrel against his back.
And after the G-men had finished picking up the shell casings and placing the blame, You found yourself under the bright lights yet again.
As usual, February 14 was less like the Valentines, And more like the St. Valentine's Day Massacre-—without the cute rhymes.
A Valentine? I'd rather not. I tried this once before. Bought paper, ribbon, glue, Folded, cut and signed it true to you, always with my love, and what became of it? Sticky fingers, paper cuts, ribbon wrapped asunder. The message plain, or so I thought, mangled by a giggle. Cutout sweets, made painfully weak, by one-way passion's tally. So keep your day, or was it mine, and I'll content to stay unpapered, glueless and unstrung, no red hearts to paste, unwon.
Valentine's Day makes me want to choke! Love 'n' sweet kisses... EERRGGGHHH!!! What a joke! Oysters and champagne, Aphrodisiacs they say. A load of fancy nonsense, Give me bangers and mash anyday! If you so wish, To find the key to my heart. Take me to a comical play, It's a mighty fine start. The greatest tears are from laughter, Wouldn't you say? So for sanitys' sake, Lets ban Valentine's Day.... HURRAY!
To hell with Valentines, and all that guff! No-one wants me, I'm far too rough. All this love stuff, it makes me sick. Ever met Cupid?.. No?... He's a prick! Found him online, when he shot me with his bow. But things soon turned sour, when he called me his ho! So OUT with Valentines, that's what I say. Lets celebrate with a BIG BANG... Anti-Valentines Day!
Step out, step in, no I'm not going To celebrate this apogee of disappointment. Pretending I've forgotten and forgiven That you've betrayed me once in the past year. Again this stupid celebration is coming, I wish this day could be erased forever, So that my soul can rest in peace Without being ripped a piece by piece. I am not ready to forgive and even now After one year of hypocritical smiles, When we both thought it shouldn't bother now, It's coming back and hurt and hurt and hurt. And now this day, again, like a reminder Of what we both decided never happened, What shall I do, it's coming, coming, coming... And I'm just laying on a sofa and crying...
I waited in the supermarket queue To buy a dozen red roses for you,
But changed my mind when I saw The sales assistant had a smaller jaw.
She was so pretty and slim, It made you look like some sort of Him.
And I could immediately tell Both her eyes were exactly level.
Her nose was delicate and sweet And she also had much smaller feet.
And to make her almost divine, She offered three for two bottles of wine.
So, without wishing to betray, I suppose you've discerned straight away
That you cannot compete this time With a cut price Valentine,
Whose beauty disposes Of your dozen red roses.
But I know you will prefer by far, The three for one chocolate bar.
A wish and a kiss
Is no basis for this
On my face is a tear
You nor i
Should be here
Take your valentine wish
Do not pull me near
The illusion of such bliss
Within your fear
Singles Awareness day,
That’s what I like to call it.
A reminder is always useful,
As if it frequently slips my mind.
There was a young girl from the East,
Who could not be restrained in the least.
She said: "Sausage is great,
But not on a plate:
I prefer mine attached to a beast!"
A thoughtful young girl from the West,
Said: "I think chipolatas are best.
The absence of bulk
Needn't make a girl sulk:
It's the flavour I prize in a guest!"
The was a young fellow called Davey,
Who learned catering skills in the navy.
Without any doubt,
If he took a girl out,
She would get an abundance of gravy!
There was once a young lady called Jean,
Who was terribly fond of protein.
So long as she got it,
While it was still hot, it
Did not matter where it had been!
The sweet seduction of the year
When guilt, worry, angst and fear
rise to the surface like scum on a pond
thickening my sweet and sour need to bond
With a desperate arm
I reach for a charm
The tacky chatskie left on the shelf
A bear holding a heart of velvet
neither fluffy nor dirty
and a message of hope
to make you melt or flirty
Did I think that the beer
would make you suddenly debonaire?
Did I expect you to pounce
or your passion announce?
So with hindsight and a sigh
I made you bacon and eggs
and will serve it in panties
and my black fishnets
Valentines day what a bore it's all roses and chocolates galore.
Men and women prancing around fancy restaurants in town exchanging kisses and vows.
men all suited and booted women plastered up to the skies.
the shops are bustly and crowded with people buying tacky I love you cards.
all the cheesy films are sold out so that couples can be all sickly and sweet whilst watching Bridget Jones and her big panty hose.
valentines day what a bore people acting so in love but when the day is done all those romantic gestures will be gone.
Do they have a day each year, Where they serve tee-total people beer? Each year, do they take the chance, To humiliate the injured by having a dance? Once in every solar path, Do they point at the unfunny and laugh? When twelve months have passed them unawares, Do they give free money to millionaires? When a whole year has gone by again, Do they hand out umbrellas when there is no rain?
But, once a year they group and mingle, In a concerted effort to humiliate the single. They buy each other chocolates and flowers, And stare at each other for hours. And hours. The worst thing, when push comes to shove, Is that they get rewarded for being in love! As if love wasn’t reward enough – Being single on Valentines’ day is tough!
So to help me circumvent my Valentine’s rage, Give me and five others some mash and sausage.
In my minds eyes, brighter than the past life; lives a hope so great it will not be contained.
The glowing cup of life floats towards me, my dreams and prayers swirling inside the rich liquid of sweat and bitter tears.
Presented to me by God's divine hand. I see every drop sweet blood red wine rich folds on the rim, just over my head it starts to tilt.
I know where my heart lies, stuck at the bottom of that painful pool of life-long, hurts and worries.
My mouth opens wide to drink it all, emptying the contents; my soul is full, and I will try to succeed again.