Frantically Romantic

Serenade

I love the sheen of your toupee,

The twinkle in your glasses,

The bristle of your warty chin,

The welcome of your pillowed masses,

Your crinkles in blotched vellum skin,

The tap of your time-splintered cane.

So, though some may think me quite insane -

Vintage coupee, rusty chevrolet -

Croon to me in a codger's croak

Drive me, ride me while a cloak

Of wind wisks your toupee;

Prickle path, black rose bouquet -

I'm thoroughly taken in.

*******************************************

Vinegar Love

Do you love me, are you sure?

Notorize your feelings, swear an oath,

Certify the bonds between us both,

Pay Love Insurance; give me warranties

And guarantees, assure this will endure.

How often must I swear my love?

Not once each day or each hour,

Nor once each minute: I've enough of

Repeating and repeating. Our

Whines turn love's wine sour.

*******************************************

He

With gaunt cheeks or brawny sides,

He satisfies all "Classified"s.

With pleading eyes or chiseled chin,

Bellowing, bold, quiet as chagrin,

Rugged, refined, always kind -

Lover born and bred of my mind.

*******************************************

Venus at the Fatness Salon

In the land of the plump and round,

Some will think you quite profound

If you announce, oh so seriously.

That thin's no longer in; declare imperiously

That fat's where it's at and bound-

Less blubber makes men drool deleriously.

*******************************************

Venus begat Penis,

Brat of uncertain genus.

Aphrodite stripped of nightie

Was such a sight; she

Lured gods and guzzlers when unclad.

Any Dick could be the Dad.

But that his mama was a hussy

Never bothered Priapussy.

He'd stand firm, not too upright,

However Mama worked the night.

The only sign of mother's game:

The unsureness of surname.

Priapus, had he had his pick,

Would rather be a dapper Dick

Than a cute and cuddly Cupid -

Flabby, fumbling and too stupid.

Cupid's arrows hummed and hissed,

Strayed away and often missed.

The boy blimp, if only faster,

Might study with a shooting master.

But, alas, he was too daft

To learn from those who knew their craft.

And his magic arrows, forevermore,

Would seek the pure but find the whore.

*******************************************

Gray Socks, Silver Suits

No longer black on white, but gray - a compromise>

More pleasing to the bureaucrats than the eyes;

The motley mavericks would sigh but endure

The bland on bland that all officials wore.

But if they spotted senators in chartreuse hats

Or presidents promenading in mauve spats,

They'd shimmy, reel and cheer: Any day,

They'd vote for silver sequins over shadow gray.

*******************************************

Jay

Jay was a properly imposing lad too,

A natty and loftily lean one,

Who never pulled on a purple shoe

And never bought a green one.

Never preened in spotted yellow tie,

Never donned teal vest or crushed viridian

Homberg with a velvet band; he'd never buy

Belts studded with amethyst or obsidian.

No dapper dandy, he (unlike other chaps)

Brought science to the buying of his wraps,

Deduced what lasted longer, what togs might

Be tagged by most as officially right.

Thus no sequinned salesman could induce

Him to primp in suits of impractical puce;

But everyone noted, for miles and blocks,

His daily mismatch of white and gray socks.

Back to Page One

all art and writing copyright by cl Frost