The Pun Also Rises

"Valentine's Day Insta-Poet"

    I'd like to start this column by listing all of the things I like about February:

    Okay, I'm done. T.S. Eliot once called April the cruelest month, but he was dead wrong. And he's still wrong, in addition to still being dead. What's more, look what month he died just before, obviously trying to avoid its cruelty. That's right, February. February is the real cruelest month, and not just because it's spelled differently than it sounds.

    In Febyuary, New Year's excitement has worn off. Winter is at its worst and coldest. Groundhogs are popping out of the ground and cursing us with even more winter. And worst of all, there's Valentine's Day. If I were to list all the problems with Valentine's Day, it would fill the whole paper, including the classifieds -- and nobody would want to buy it.

    Instead, I'm going to focus on one specific problem, and offer you a way to fix it. Poems. People often expect poems on Valentine's Day. Fail to provide one, and you will be hated and berated for eternity. (This only holds true if you are dating a female. If you are dating a male, he will forget about it by dinner.)

    If you have a steady girlfriend, you should just write something that is as sweet and mushy as possible. Here's an example:

Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
Marshmallows, Jello,
And pudding too.

    If your former girlfriend is now a wife, then the poem should reflect her suffering and your appreciation for it:

You clean the clothes, you wash the dishes,
Mop the floors, and bake the fishes.
I really love you; thanks a bunch.
And while we're talking... what's for lunch?

    Those are the easy situations. But sometimes one's relationship isn't so simple. What if the object of your affection doesn't even seem to know you exist? Well, you can try a poem like this:

Each day I see you walk by on the street,
And my heart skips a beat every time you draw near.
Though I smile and say hi, you just look at your feet.
Maybe next time I'll try yelling, "Look over here!"

    Well, maybe that's not such a good idea. But at least you're trying. Because if you're just going to stare at a girl and fail to have a conversation, perhaps you'd be better off with a poster instead. And you can still write a love poem to it:

You surely are the only flawless woman that I've seen,
Perhaps because they airbrushed you inside that magazine.
I know that there are those who'd try to say my love's immoral,
But baby, you attract me, even though you're just pictoral.
You're sexy, and unblemished by opinion or pretension;
I'm sure I couldn't deal with girls who had a third dimension.
Your body looks so beautiful, inside that skimpy suit.
Your face looks stern, or mad, or maybe fiercely resolute.
More clothes would make you warmer; Are you angry 'cause you're cold?
I still think you looked beautiful upon the centerfold.
And that is why I've written all this poetry for you:
For when you were unfolded, then my love unfolded too.

    At this point you might be asking, "Why would you write more poetry to an inanimate object than all of the real people combined?" And the answer is, you need less time to escape. Think about it: Your poster is probably not going to chase you and try to punch you in the arm for bad poetry, so you can rattle off stanza after stanza. But if you tried to read any of the other poems to an actual person, after the first verse, they'd be well within their rights to attack you.

    Of course, if they really love you, they'll laugh instead of wanting to kill you. And that's the true meaning of Valentine's Day.

____________________

    Seth Brown is a local humor writer who can't wait until February's over. His website is www.RisingPun.com

All work on this page is copyright Seth Brown. If you are sharing it, please give attribution. If you want to reprint it, please contact me first.