Unrequited love, the Shakespearian sonnet.. and a Haiku
- ssduncan3
- Jan 27, 2024
- 2 min read
Updated: Feb 5
A traditional subject for a traditional form. But with a modern twist and the strict form is somehow liberating - freedoms set by boundaries?
The lovelorn housewife and the randy milkman were stock comic figures of 1960s suburban Britain. A minor part of the 'Carry On...' genre. Today, most people buy milk from supermarkets. In this version, the gender and sexual identity of the householder is left open.
Ode to the milkman
I lie awake to hear the clink of milk
Cool bottles given by a man so hot.
My bed is warm and my sheets are silk
Please stay a while, although you’d rather not.
Tousled hair and shoulder bare, I rush down
To boldly flaunt before your striding form.
Were you peeping inside my dressing gown
Or was that sigh simply a stifled yawn?
My ready body fills with rank desire
As you offer yoghurt and clotted cream
Flushing pink as if consumed by hot fire
Surely you are feeling the love I dream.
But even if you promise to love me
You would be with another, two, or three.
Climbers often take their climbing shoes with them just on the odd chance of finding some rock or somebody to climb with. Escaping from a work conference in Heidelberg, I came across a bolted piece of rock with a US army platoon climbing it. Sergeant Mandy came along later. I didn't climb with her but she has somehow become the repository of feelings about the chance of romance, or is it the romance of chance?
Ode to Sergeant Mandy
Lovely Sargant Mandy, where can you be?
Maybe in Texas, and Trump gets your vote
But do you remember, climbing, with me?
Sun sinking low, our emotions afloat.
Warm rock in Germany, your platoon stare
‘Slack’, ‘Take in’, ‘Safe’, and “Lower down’ at last.
They can polish webbing, for all we care
Moving each other, up, in, and hold fast.
Were you in Iraq, or Afghanistan?
Did you earn medals, or PSTD?
We could have been kissing, like a Rodin
If you’d left those soldiers, and stayed with me.
If these lines reach you, in the USA
Feel that rock, that magic, blowing away.
Maybe Melissa's haiku puts it more succinctly
tongue tied in knots
a cloud of butterflies
overwhelm me
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