Trebuchet. (A poem.)

Trebuchet

Were Cupid's bow a trebuchet
Besieging lovelorn citadels
With barrage, bolt and cannonade
And sensual harems in its wake

Well, Hell, I'd choose you anyway
Forsaking concubines in thrall

And is that not the greatest love of all?

Very well written!

Cheers; it was eventually dedicated to my first (long-term) girlfriend, on her 21st birthday.

Here's another, in form of an epigram:

The prizest posy
Threads her way
Through nettles, unafraid:
And, when apt to bloom
Blooms brighter
Than her siblings, who
Sequester'd in the shade
Are compost maids.

That's so sweet.
You're an excellent poet - how long have you been writing poetry for?

Not nearly as long as I haven't been writing poetry: alas, such meditative pursuits were among the first casualties of my finding 'gainful' employment, some seven years since.

Still, all told I'm probably most fond of this—immortalised in the sixth-form yearbook of a former classmate, at her request, over one decade ago:


How did you come upon this thread?

I still have the card, and I'll be 30 in Jan. Thank you. x