Will you marry me?

My photograph was taken from a beach in Cornwall, U.K.,  in 2006.  I do trust things turned out better in reality than in my  rather jaundiced, wholly imagined, speculations on the subject of marriage and the impulsive gestures which do often bring it about  –  as demonstrated in some of the ostentatious proposals which took place at the Rio Olympics. (WHB)

‘MARRY ME’ it said in the sky,
The brazenly shouted plea;
Showcasing a lover’s great passion?
A proposal she had to agree.

Was love in there somewhere I wondered?
Was that what the question implied?
A lifelong commitment on offer –
Based on whim, or desire for a bride?

“I’d love to” she whispered so gently,
Accepting his plea without question.
Her doubts were dispelled by his bluster
How could she deny his suggestion?

They married in bliss shortly after,
A lifetime of rapture to come.
With hope for a lifetime of passion?
Well, that’s how it’s meant to be done

The first happy years ran so smoothly;
The path of love seemed to be fine,
But the storm clouds were looming above them
Creating a warning fault line.

It was life intervened in their story,
A lassitude lay on their marriage,
Their ardour and pleasures defeated.
Love stalled, reduced to the humdrum,

Both felt as though they’d been cheated.
Habit had killed off their lustre;
Routine  had entered their souls;
Self-regard took over from closeness;
Possessions their only goals.

So was it for this they were married,
Just to reach an acceptance of sorts?
All passion long lost from their dowry
Now littered with bile and retorts.

The end of this story I’m told?
They parted with barely a whisper;
What began with a flamboyant gesture,
Ended, ‘Not with a bang but a whimper’.

This last line echoing T.S.Eliot’s oft-quoted lines from ‘The Hollow Men’  . . .

‘This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
Not with a bang but a whimper.’

My Bobby Dazzler

‘Ow do, lass, tha’s a stunner,
I aint seen ‘out like ‘thee afoor.
Th’as luvly as t’sun after t’rain
I’m as sure as I’m sure I am sure.

Tha’s such a reyt bobby-dazzler,
Tha’s taken mi breath clear away
And I’ll nivver find a better,
So one day it’s a bridal bouquet.

And when we git married I’ll luv thee,
I’ll look after thee till I die;
And when we’re tigether in t’eaven
Tha’ll still be a-dazzling me eye.

‘Bobby-dazzler’ was originally a North East England dialect term for a person who is affectionately considered as being beautiful or remarkable. In have attempted to write these 3 verses in a North Yorkshire dialect,

Lustic Limerick #6

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I give you…

A Limerick on this very day
To keep my Covid Blues away …

A sweet lassie from far Tallahassee,
Whose demeanour was certainly classy;
When she walked up the aisle
Folks said with a smile,
“I do love that beautiful chassis.”

Lustic Limerick #3

Photo by Erik Mclean on Pexels.com

A Limerick every other day
To keep my Covid Blues away …

When fickle Francesca decided to marry
She would not have Tom, Dick or Harry.
But she took up with Pete,,
Who she’d met through a tweet;
Then she married a singer called Barry.

Senor Bitzwobble

Senor Bitzwobble

A Spaniard called Senor Bitzwobble
Met the Pobble without any toes,
Who got him to keep very still
While he swatted a fly on his nose.

‘I’ve seen your bits wobble’, said Pobble,
‘I suggest what you need is a mate;
Someone steady and willing
Life would soon become thrilling –  
How about me being your date?’

Well, they soon hit it off and got married,
Well, that’s how this story then goes,
They had many children together –
Married life had its highs and its lows.

Till, one day while they sunbathed together,
As in the bright sun they both dozed,
They both started to cough,
All heir bits then fell off,
And so their sad story then closed.

WILL I DO?

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‘Single man with toilet paper seeks woman with hand sanitizer for good clean fun.’

I have paper for the loo
Hand sanitiser too
Now I’m looking for a mate, Will I do?

I have headache pills galore
You will never need for more
Now I’m looking for a mate, Will I do?

I am well stocked up with food,
And I’m always in the mood,
Now I’m looking for a mate, Will I do?

I have wads and wads of money
I’d give you all you need, my honey,
Now I’m looking for a mate, Will I do?

I have the newest mobile phones
All the latest fads and clones
Now I’m looking for a mate, Will I do?

I’ve a sumptuous country mansion
And I’m craving for expansion,
Now I’m looking for a mate, Will I do?

So if you too are looking,
And especially good at cooking
Then I’m your man, yes I’m your man, Will I do?

 

©  …..  WHB

 

Two Word Tales: #2

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Two words

‘I Do’

Brought love

To me

 

My ‘Two Word’ Verses

Throughout this week, I shall publish each day one of a series of short verses which, together, by the end of the week, will have told a story. 

 

Late Love

LATE  LOVE

Eagerly he jumped into bed
His vows to now fulfil
His lady fair sat on the bed, 
Took a little pill. 

Seductively she stripped and then
Slipped on her pink silk gown;
Opened the drawers beside the bed
She twirled and then sat down. 

Slowly she took her dentures out, 
Popped them into a box. 
Beside this she placed her spectacles, 
Her things, her rings, her rocks. 

Off came her hair, a huge blonde wig, 
Into the drawer it followed. 
A few more pills went in her mouth, 
Then these she swiftly swallowed.

Next a glass eye was taken out, 
Put in a velvet box, 
Then placed sedately in the drawer
Beside those golden locks.

She then unscrewed a wooden leg, 
Wrapped it in a napkin. 
That also went into the drawer
“What else to come?” I’m asking.

Until, she said, “At last my dear, 
Now I am all yours.”
But I was undecided, p’raps
I’d be better in those drawers.

‘A Vow’. . . by Wendy Cope

[  # 96 of My Favourite Short Poems  ]

A poem by Wendy Cope, who, in her own down-to-earth and honest style presents a non-traditional version of the marriage vows, one with greater honesty than any more conventional approach to the promises and commitments of marriage.

It may be remembered that Wendy Cope once rebuked our poet laureate, Carol Ann Duffy, for agreeing to write a poem to celebrate Prince William’s marriage to Kate Middleton.  This poem confirms her views on such matters by taking a common-sense view of the marriage vows.

I cannot promise never to be angry;
I cannot promise always to be kind.
You know what you are taking on, my darling –
It’s only at the start that love is blind.

And yet I’m still the one you want to be with
And you’re the one for me – of that I’m sure. 
You are my closest friend, my favourite person,
The lover and the home I’ve waited for.

I cannot promise that I will deserve you
From this day on. I hope to pass that test.
I love you and I want to make you happy.
I promise I will do my very best.

By Wendy Cope 

 

What’s In a NAME?

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A Girl’s Lament in her Search for a Suitable Partner

 

Ladies, I’m thinking,
of marrying soon,
But very few men
Would cause me to swoon.
I’d be very choosy,
I’d go for the name
I’m no boozy floozy,
They’re not all the same.

For I’d soon kill a Bill
Get sick of a Dick;
Disgorge a George,
And enslave any Dave.

I’d get fed up with Fred,
And I’d smack out at Jack;
I might prosper with Oscar;
Test my libido with Leo,
And treat Tom with aplomb.

I’d give Max the axe,
And both Lucus and Brutus –
No better than Judas!

A Ted I would dread;
As for Teddy –  not ready;
And Desperate Dan,
From far Kasakhstan,
Was never the man,
To be in my plan.

Yes, I went into spasm
When I first met Adam.
I’d give Joe the elbow,
He’s so gung-ho with gusto.

The pond I did dredge
To find only poor Reg;
Then a minnow ‘mongst men
I met poor little Ben.

Dylan’s a villain,
And Toby’s a phony.
Carter’s a martyr,
A long-suffering non-starter.
Jude was a pseud,
Lewd, crude and screwed.
As for Ollie, Good Golly,
Much too melancholy.

Frank drew a blank,
So rank … and he stank,
And no medal of honour
Goes out to Connor.

But I’d say after all –
Though I bawl and I stall,
I’d rather a Paul
Than just nothing at all.

Of course, if the chance
came my way,
Being so scrumptious,
To be a new duchess,
At the end of the day
No longer I’d tarry,
I’d marry a Harry.