No one will remember but a year ago I won a Valentine's poetry competition with a poem about an accountant explaining to his Valentine that he was also a superhero. This year I wrote the one below, which, as the saying goes, failed to bother the scorers.
Hope you enjoy as a break from NewsJack rejects.
Don Juan contemplates the difficulties his lifestyle presents at Valentine's Day
Every woman that he meets, or merely passes in the streets,
Is to him like Aphrodite. He falls in love most expeditely.
His heartbeat quickens all excited, when he finds it is requited.
Wooing most successfully, this master of polygamy.
Every year it is the same. He only has himself to blame -
Valentine's is spent full kilter when you can't apply a filter.
Buying cards and sending flowers is a job that lasts for hours -
The lovers' day is such a chore for an omnilovore.
Take a look inside his head you'll find he has a busy schedule.
Is he active? Well let's see; his little black book is a directory.
But it pays to be discerning when you think about your yearning -
Untold women will be miffed if they find they've got no gift.
He'd buy them all expensive chocs, but what could he use for a box
That has capacity to hold that amount of Tel's All-Gold?
To give them all perfumery he'd need to buy the factory;
To carve their names upon a tree requires a job in forestry.
The problem that is thus predicted isn't as you'd think restricted
To the trials of gifting round but are revealed as more profound.
When the toys and ballyhoo and cards signed coyly "From guess who?"
Have been despatched to countless misses, bowed and sealed with dry parched kisses,
Returning home for welcome rest at the door to his nest
Our hero's key is in the slot - does it open? It does not!
A mountain of Valentine's tat has formed a barrier on his mat.
The solution's clear - who'd have thunk? Take the orders, be a monk.