Valentine
Not a red rose or a satin heart.
I give you an onion.
It is a moon wrapped in brown paper.
It promises light
like the careful undressing of love.
Here.
It will blind you with tears
like a lover.
It will make your reflection
a wobbling photo of grief.
I am trying to be truthful.
Not a cute card or kissogram.
I give you an onion.
Its fierce kiss will stay on your lips,
possessive and faithful
as we are,
for as long as we are.
Take it.
Its platinum loops shrink to a wedding ring,
if you like.
Lethal.
Its scent will cling to your fingers,
cling to your knife.
-- Carol Ann Duffy
I like Carol Anne Duffy, and the onion is obviously metaphor material as my cut fingers and inebriated lachrymose tear ducts will testify.
Sasha thinks otherwise. Her arguments, although not unassailable, do have an urgent pithiness which is hard to ignore. I for one would be proud to write a poem titled "My Love is Made of Ostrich Meat". Building "Andrew Motion's fun bus" sounds a bit like hard work, but I'd give it a try if there was some Meccano handy.
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13 comments:
Cool. I actually almost got that, and I'm hopeless at getting poetry.
Onions? Bollocks to em. Can't live with them, can't live without them.
Stick to the shallots, they're much more subtle.
Shallots are even worse! And they have a much bigger surface area and a thinner, even more tissue-like skin that makes them triply harder to peel. No thanks, onions for me unless I really need to tackle a shallot.
I give you a leek (which is of the onion family).
Not that I'm Welsh.
Fuckin’ onion bollocks.
You obviously know your onions MJ.
Her fanny stinks of them, that much I know.
Anyway...
"My Love is Made of Ostrich Meat"... I had such a vulgar image in my mind when I read those words.
I hate shallots. I used to think I liked them, but I now know I don't.
Roasted shallots are the business.
Roasted shallots are the business. I like leeks too, but they make your poo smell really bad.
Leeks sautéed in butter and finished with double cream and loads of freshly ground black pepper.
Fuckin' deeeeelish.
Sniffy - When doesn't poo smell really bad?
Are you trying to tell us yours is perfumed, or summat?
I never pay much attention to the smell of mine. The sunshine distracts me too much to notice any smell.
'Like the careful undressing of love'
Not in my experience.
Hmmm...perhaps 'careless fumblings' would be more apt.
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