The Toothbrush and the Bicycle Tyre

You can watch this poem performed here


A Love Letter from the Toothbrush to the Bicycle Tire - Sarah Key

They told me that I was meant for the cleaner life

That you would drag me through the mud

They said that you would tread all over me

That they could see right through you

That you were full of hot air

That I would always be chasing

Always watching you disappear after sleeker models

That it would be a vicious cycle

But I know better

I know about your rough edges

And I have seen your perfect curves

I will fit into whatever spaces you let me

If loving you means getting dirty

Bring on the grime

I will leave this porcelain home behind

I'm used to twice a day relationships

But with you, I'll take all the time

And I know that we live in different worlds
And we're always really busy

But in my dreams

You spin around me so fast

I always wake up dizzy

So, maybe one day

You'll grow tired of the road

And roll on back to me

And when I blink my eyes into morning
Your smile will be the only one I see.

This Talking About Love

My sentiments exactly. 

Not Anyone Who Says - Mary Oliver

Not anyone who says, “I’m going to be
careful and smart in matters of love,”
who says, “I’m going to choose slowly,”
but only those lovers who didn’t choose at all
but were, as it were, chosen
by something invisible and powerful and uncontrollable
and beautiful and possibly even
unsuitable —
only those know what I’m talking about
in this talking about love.

To My Valentine

'I love you more...than a toothache hurts.' That says it all really!

Guaranteed to make you laugh out loud, here's Ogden Nash taking a very nontraditional approach to Valentines.

Happy heart day.


To My Valentine - Ogden Nash

More than a catbird hates a cat,
Or a criminal hates a clue,
Or the Axis hates the United States,
That's how much I love you.

I love you more than a duck can swim,
And more than a grapefruit squirts,
I love you more than a gin rummy is a bore,
And more than a toothache hurts.

As a shipwrecked sailor hates the sea,
Or a juggler hates a shove,
As a hostess detests unexpected guests,
That's how much you I love.

I love you more than a wasp can sting,
And more than the subway jerks,
I love you as much as a beggar needs a crutch,
And more than a hangnail irks.

I swear to you by the stars above,
And below, if such there be,
As the High Court loathes perjurious oaths,
That's how you're loved by me. 

I Do Not Love You...

I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You - Pablo Neruda

I do not love you except because I love you;
I go from loving to not loving you,
From waiting to not waiting for you
My heart moves from cold to fire.

I love you only because it's you the one I love;
I hate you deeply, and hating you
Bend to you, and the measure of my changing love for you
Is that I do not see you but love you blindly.

Maybe January light will consume
My heart with its cruel
Ray, stealing my key to true calm.

In this part of the story I am the one who
Dies, the only one, and I will die of love because I love you,
Because I love you, Love, in fire and blood. 

The Present

The Present - Michael Donaghy 

For the present there is just one moon,
though every level pond gives back another.

But the bright disc shining in the black lagoon,
perceived by astrophysicist and lover,

is milliseconds old. And even that light’s
seven minutes older than its source.

And the stars we think we see on moonless nights
are long extinguished. And, of course,

this very moment, as you read this line,
is literally gone before you know it.

Forget the here-and-now. We have no time
but this device of wantonness and wit.

Make me this present then: your hand in mine,
and we’ll live out our lives in it.

Valentine

'Valentine's Day is the poet's holiday' - Ted Kooser

It's Valentines this week and what better way to celebrate than by posting love poems.

To begin with, who says Valentines have to be written for people? Ted Kooser brilliantly upends this idea in his collection of unusual and surprising 'Valentines.'



A New Potato - Ted Kooser

This is just one of the leathery eggs
the scuffed-up, dirty turtle of the moon
buried early in spring, her eyes like stars
fixed on the future, and, inside its red skin,
whiteness, like all of the moons to come,
and marvellous, buttered with light.