Tag Archives: valentine’s day

Fuck You Saint Valentine

one day I’ll run through the mall

shouting Fuck You Saint Valentine

patron saint of the beautiful, the privileged

you’re a tease, a fiction

spreading hope, packaged passion

 

Fuck You Hallmark cards

perpetuating a myth of receptive possibilities

promoting expectations

one phrase at a time

 

Fuck You Harlequin Romances

happy endings all tidied up

measured passion

not the snarls of our lives

 

Fuck You Hollywood

avalanche of romantic comedies

soundtracks swollen with strings

when all some of us hear is the croak

of Tom Waits at two in the morning

 

Fuck You Saint Valentine

glossing over the childrens’ labour

sweetly boxed

 

Fuck You mall wanderlings

I’m tired of happy passion

animated Barbie and Ken dolls

buying underwear for each other

 

Saint Rita!

patron saint of loneliness

of forgotten causes

a saint for the chronically alone

a saint without P.R.

 

So Fuck You Saint Valentine

I’m over your sweet promises

I’ll plead my case to Saint Rita

on her feast day I’ll take myself out to lunch

and I won’t be disappointed

 

 

David Trudel    © 2014

 

 

 

 

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Filed under Poetry

Valentine

If you will be my valentine

We can chase circuses in India

In the hopes of finding

A little elephant with very big ears

So that when he finally takes flight

You and I won’t panic or cower

But will give the little guy a standing O

 

If you will be my valentine

We can search out brassy steampunk apparel or make our own

Embellished with creative flair and panache

To wear cruising Europe’s inland waterways

Where we’ll dance on a stone terrace at moonlit midnight

To the echo of a string quartet across the lake

 

We could discover the magic we’ve been seeking

 

There will be no conquering, just mutual surrender

Not to one another but to love

 

If you will be my valentine

We can travel by passenger train to nowhere places

Where we’ll simply turn around

To have more time

Listening to plaintive whistles

Pullman coached swaying to rhythms

As old as the landscape rolling by

 

If you will be my valentine

We can discover each other

Like arctic explorers or interstellar missions

Or like finding a novel you’ve always meant to read

But never did before

 

If you will be my valentine

There will be magic

 

 

David Trudel    ©  2013

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Filed under Poetry

Valentine Bouquet of Ten Poems

I Will

 

I will unbitter your heart with honeyed words

I will unsour the taste that lingers in your mouth

Through my pure and gentle kisses

 

I will restore your trust and unbreak the broken

I will heal your soul

With loving ministrations of tenderness

 

I will give you strength and tranquility

I will support your struggles

I will guard your back

Against all comers

 

I will unbitter your heart

I will make you new again

 

 

David Trudel  © 2012

 

 

Emotions

 

Emotions can be dangerous and risky for anyone

But a poet’s emotions are the very wellspring

Of creativity and art

Brightly hued maelstroms of passion

 

We tend to go off the deep end of the pool

We don’t just fall in love

We do swan dives off that cliff in Acapulco

Where you have to time your leap

Waves crashing over the rocks

Or set high altitude records leaping from the edge of outer space

That’s a long way to fall

But one hell of a ride along the way

 

Even negative emotions like fear or anger

That philosophically you know aren’t valid

Based as they are on false assumptions

Or an incorrect assessment of the data

Sweep you up and tumble you around

Some kind of hardwired impulse drive inside your mind

Pushing every wrong button there is to push

And in the centre of your consciousness

Its like you’ve been paralyzed with some Amazonian poison

Just like in action movies

You watch it all unfold and you can’t move or even speak

You can’t unpush the buttons

So you ride it out

A thundering ride on a barely broken meanspirited bronco

Heading for the Grand Canyon

Where he’ll try to buck you off

 

Emotions can be dangerous

 

But exhilarating, too

Thrilling your senses to full alert

Mere stories made epic

Common currency made precious

 

So I’ll enjoy that ride

Even though I’m terrified

Some risks are worth the trouble

Some rewards are genuine

 

David Trudel  © 2012

 

 

Circular Moment

 

 

The future will take care of itself

Because it already has

There is only one now

Here

This moment

 

Philosophers and scientists agree

That times true nature is not linear

But circular

Past, present and future co-existing

Now

 

So I will say/say/said

I love you

I love you circularly; past, present and future

Multi-dimensionally

Cosmically

Beyond conformance with local norms

Confounding expectations

Disregarding nervous arbiters of false reality

Slipping through perceived constraints

Of mortal paradigms

Reaching celestial heights

And within this love

Discover the divine

 

 

David Trudel   ©  2012

 

 

Juiced

 

Maybe we’re apples and oranges

Maybe that’s okay

I’ll peel your skin

With just one touch you core me

We aren’t afraid of being cut-ups

Sliced and diced

Lets get juiced together

Pulverizing any walls and divisions

Reduced to essential elements

Blended to sweet froth

Recombined

Smoothed

Stirred

Poured out as one

Together

Atoms commingling

In a loving cup

 

David Trudel    ©  2012

 

 

 

Early Blossoms

 

 

You dreamt me awake

I didn’t bother to dream

But I was bothered

Not dreaming

Looking for the first blossom

Worried about frost

A change in the weather

Dreaming

Awash in blossoms

Not bothered at all

No longer dreaming

Watching blossoms

Delicately

Later, I’ll dream

Of you

 

 

David Trudel   © 2013

 

 

Curves

Ideals are always hard to live up to

Our mainstream ideal of womanhood is a false construct

Dreamt up by gay fashion designers in Paris, London and Rome

Who like the skinny hips of adolescent boys better than voluptuous curves

So they starve the girls into scraped and angled versions of an unreachable vision

And photoshop the images into Barbie doll perfection

Leaving countless women in despair

Because they have hips that are real

Shapes that are round

Soft curves that flow

Breasts that function and nurture and don’t just titillate

So let’s celebrate the curves of real women

Who aren’t molded in plastic

And whose reality needs no airbrushing

Because real women are eternally ideal

Strongly soft

David Trudel  © 2013

 

Word Job

 

I give good word

At least that’s what I’ve heard

I fondle dangling participles

Use my tongue to unleash

A torrent

Caress alliterative consonants

Go down on vowels

I give good word

Firmly

Gently

Sensually

In the dark of night

Touching each adjective and noun

Playfully

Teasing you with false starts

Drawing closer to a crescendo

Pleasuring your mind

Getting you off

On thoughts

Made flesh through words

I swallow it all

Giving word

How was it for you?

 

David Trudel      © 2012

 

 

 

Toes

 

She paints each toenail glossy red

Creating ruby jewels in extreme

Even now, midwinter

When there’ll be no open-toed sandals to display these charms

She tells herself it’s for me

But deep inside she knows it’s for him

The one she waits for

The man who will look into her eyes

And see through heavy winter shoes to say I love your toes

Who will cradle each foot in his hands

Raise the high arched instep to his lips to kiss

While fingering each bright carapace with tender care

Playing digital delights on a journey that begins with a single step

And continues follicle by follicle to map her world

Exploring beyond boundaries into eternity

Then returning to treasure troved toes

To nibble and caress

And she anticipates the frisson of his tongue gliding over polished toes

The pull of his mouth

Warm enough to melt lonely lacquered layers

Curling her toes dangerously

Until the polish runs like lava

An eruption, a release

Foundational intimacy

Toe to toe

 

 

David Trudel   © 2013

 

 

 

Love’s Language

 

 

They say French is the language of love

But it’s inadequate for us

We create our own language

Written in golden flames

Of spontaneous combustion

When our smoldering passion is fueled

We speak in tongues

And with our tongues we write poetry

On each others skin

Spoken word in raw extreme

Our language is fluid, slippery

Soft as a feather brushing a naked thigh

Sharp as teeth tugging on swollen flesh

We spread applebutter erogenously

On the blank pages of untanned skin

Organic appetizers before the mains

We speak a language of sighs and silences

Of breaths inhaled

Our punctuation is done with looks and touches

Ours is a complex grammar

That brooks no shorthand

But longs for the shortstrokes of a conclusion

Our language is incendiary

Evaporating in the heat of our love

Leaving a faint trace of smoke in the air

Burnt passion etched into each look

 

David Trudel  © 2012

 

 

Quantum Love

 

Quantum physics explains a lot about love

Wave theory certainly applies

As starbright breakers roll over us

Souls swept up in a tidal rush

The heat of our affection

Obeys the law of thermal equilibrium

And the principle of equipartition

Cosmic inflation of feelings occur

The big bang

Leads the way

To unification

So when the quantum of my love collides with yours

Meltdown

Is inevitable

 

David Trudel  © 2012

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Filed under Passing Thoughts