A Valentine's Day Gift! 2 New Poems!

Simon P. Clark
Feb 14, 2021
3 min read

The first romantic love connotations seem to stem from Chaucer's 1382 poem, "Parlement of Foules", which says: "For this was on St. Valentine's Day, when every bird cometh there to choose his mate". By the time we get to Shakespeare's Hamlet (1600 / 1601) the tradition of St. Valentine's Day is firmly established as he referes to both Saint Valentine's Day and the phrase “to be your Valentine".

So, it is the day of St. Valentine. A day of exressing love. A day that s cherished by many and despised by others for its commercialism, faux-sentiment and forced celebration. I'm never entireley sure how I feel about the day about itself, but I have written two new poems (both below) specially for Valentine's Day itself. Both show the contradiction of feelings within me around love, as well the day itself. You will see that both pieces were written from very different perspectives.

The 1st poem, "Valentine's Day", is written from the perspective of a man sitting in a restaurant or bar etc. observing other couples celebrate and inventing their back-stories to make his own loneliness easier. The 2nd poem, "Love", tries to describe the sensations that rumble throgh the body when falling in love. This will be different for everyone, and different on each occasion.

Valentine’s Day

A Poem By Simon Clark

Look, how happy they are; the smug bastards in love,

Surrounded by balloons while rose petals float in the bath,

He’s been a total prick all year, but she’s falling for it,

So, they’re really in love, are they? Don’t make me laugh!

Look at their excitement; those whores for little gifts,

Opening the plastic box and he goes down on one knee,

Saying ‘yes’ and down on her knees is how she’ll spend the night,

The sly Romeo! How lucky can one girl be?

Oh yes…oh yeah…

Look, how virile they are; they fuck to end the chat,

Expressions they scream in pleasure make a change from the pain,

Grasped his boyfriends throat but now together in melded sweat,

So, those bruises from June don’t count? Use your damn brain!

Look at them pretending; the shit they share for show,

Disclosing all on Insta, become Facebook official,

The façade of the high-life from their backstreet tenement,

Pathetic display! Are they so superficial?

Oh no…oh damn…

Look, how bitter I am; a jealous bitch alone,

Snivelling at the empty seat while eating on my own,

I recall falling deep in love and won’t admit it’s gone,

So, where is my valentine now? The great unknown!

Look at me revealing; this pissed-up lonely bloke,

Needing to know what happened and wanting to understand,

There’s no one to warm the right side of my bed, flesh to flesh,

No candles, listening to Pink’s “U + Ur Hand”.

Oh me…oh my…

Just me…Just I.

Love

A Poem By Simon Clark

It’s like waking up in a dream,

Floating on clouds of candy floss,

Like tiptoeing through a field of fragile hearts that are thumping uncontrollably,

Seeing through rose tinted glasses,

Ride through the sky like Helios.

Those horses driving the chariot and leaving a skywriters message hanging,

Amour declared in the sweetest, most delicate of fruit shared on a morning feast,

Consuming and devouring,

Watching in anticipation of the stain her lips will leave on the crystal glass,

That tender crimson mark; soothing eyes that in a snap could subdue a raging beast.

A Basilisk with good intent,

Imploring the heart to stop when so overwhelmed by the emotion of her gaze,

Broken to pieces of a kiss,

The lips, the teeth, the tip of the tongue and the taste of her saliva lingering,

Breathed upon by love’s noxious haze.

Ishtar answered the silenced prayers that are held deep within the sleeping soul and mind,

Fanning the cautious flames of lust,

Goddess of all earthly goddesses who impulsively rush forward with beauty,

Elegance of youth on her side,

Coveting someone’s arms of safety before the talent of aging starts to rust.

Together with the morning star,

Enwrapped when the evening star comes,

Day after day basking in bliss,

Glowing when in the setting sun,

Drowning deep in the rapture like Ophelia never knowing what grief becomes.

This endless boost of romantic rhapsody will, mermaid-like, bear her from the depths,

Until the garments become sodden and drag her down leaving memories and hearts,

Hearts that beat like hummingbird wings and palms that moisten like dew in the morning light,

Desire floods the mind and all thoughts are of stolen moments and memories to make,

Struck by Cupid’s entwining darts.

Chastity has no place between the silky sheets where love’s ruby red blood is spilt,

Irrepressible sexual cravings that the couple powerlessly embrace,

Incapable of resisting,

Connected from first sight, there was nothing to do, the synapses redirected,

Unyielding satisfaction of the reciprocation written across her face.