Tuesday, February 13, 2007

Happy V-Day!!

By Cornelia

It's that day again, and for those of you who've spaced until the last minute, I offer a selection of the finest Valentine's cards available for free online (hint: right-click, save to desktop, and email to your beloved ASAP).

First, a card to each of my blogmates...

For Patty the sailor:

For Mr. Born, our newbie dude:

For Our Jacqueline, and Maisie D. too:

For Paul/Polly, and Renee:

For the Floridian Mr. Grippando--come back and hang out often, or we'll sic the Pink Nun of South Beach on you:

And now for the rest of you, an assortment of affectionate greetings, organized by recipient....

For the girl with the little red riding hood:

For Bush the Younger (with love from Karl R.):

For the polyamorous:

For the friend with a broken heart:

For the distant love:

For those who are unlucky at cards:

For the moonstruck:

For the clotheshorse:

For the utterly angelic:

For the friend whose beau is an ASS:

For the Incompleat Angler:

For the girl in need of guidance:

For the cute but snarkily perverse:

For those early-to-bed, early-to-rise types:

For the suave and debonair:

For the handyperson:

For the definite:

For the cuckold?

For the cornily risque:

For those loooooog involved:

For the sports fan:

For those with a love of the great outdoors:

For the detail-conscious:

For the musician:

For the cold-hearted:

For the traditionalist:

For the bestest pal ever (my personal favorite, from Bust Magazine):

In honor of the day, what is your favorite love poem?

Here's mine:

"One Perfect Rose"

A single flow'r he sent me, since we met.
All tenderly his messenger he chose;
Deep-hearted, pure, with scented dew still wet -
One perfect rose.

I knew the language of the floweret;
'My fragile leaves,' it said, 'his heart enclose.'
Love long has taken for his amulet
One perfect rose.

Why is it no one ever sent me yet
One perfect limousine, do you suppose?
Ah no, it's always just my luck to get
One perfect rose.
--Dorothy Parker

No, I'm kidding... here's the real one (by a favorite old teacher of mine):

"I Love You Sweatheart"

A man risked his life to write the words.
A man hung upside down (an idiot friend
holding his legs?) with spray paint
to write the words on a girder fifty feet above
a highway. And his beloved,
the next morning driving to work...?
His words are not (meant to be) so unique.
Does she recognize his handwriting?
Did he hint to her at her doorstep the night before
of "something special, darling, tomorrow"?
And did he call her at work
expecting her to faint with delight
at his celebration of her, his passion, his risk?
She will know I love her now,
the world will know my love for her!
A man risked his life to write the world.
Love is like this at the bone, we hope, love
is like this, Sweatheart, all sore and dumb
and dangerous, ignited, blessed--always,
regardless, no exceptions,
always in blazing matters like these: blessed.

--Thomas Lux


  1. What a great post, and happy V day to you!

    As for favorite love poems, as much as I appreciate the gorgeous writing of poets like John Donne, I'm really just too cranky to identify with anyone other than Dorothy Parker. I think this one pretty much sums it all up ;-)


    Into love and out again,
    Thus I went, and thus I go.
    Spare your voice, and hold your pen--
    Well and bitterly I know
    All the songs were ever sung,
    All the words were ever said.
    Could it be, when I was young,
    Someone dropped me on my head?

  2. Cornelia,
    Thanks for the Valentine. I avoided the doghouse by deliviery roses to my wife this morning.

    I was going to send some to Dusty Rhoades but he has a restraining order on me.

    Have a great day


  3. Aw, Our Cornelia, you shouldn't have. Bless your cotton socks, for being such a sentimentalist. And I LOVED my card. Thanks so much, and here's Happy Valentine's Day to you, too. And to everyone else out there, Patty, Our Polly, Jim and James, plus the great "commentators" who join us every day - Happy V. Day!

    What a hoot that was!

  4. Cornelia, what a sweetheart you are!!! I love my Valentine. Here's wishing you a day filled with love and maybe a little chocolate, too.

    Here's a non-poem but Valentine-appropriate nonetheless:

    "The kiss originated when the first male reptile licked the first female reptile, implying in a subtle, complimentary way that she was as succulent as the small reptile he had for dinner the night before." —F. Scott Fitzgerald

    What a romantic, eh?

  5. Thanks for the V-day cards, Miss C! I borrowed two of them, but I'll let you guess which ones.

    And no poem from me today. I'm sadly lacking in that department. Blame it on the shoddy Arizona school system.

  6. Hi Miss Cornelia!

    Thanks so much for my Valentine. You think of everything - including the laughs to go with them. Hope you all enjoy wine and roses and choc's today when you toast your loves and creativity. :-D


  7. Great post....ecclectic and funny.

    And thanks to you Patty for sharing the sentiments of that old sappy romantic, F. Scott Fitzgerald.....I guess his dictum lead to the notion that the way to a man's heart is through his stomach!

    On a sad note..... I'm watching Bush's latest standup routine on what CBS calls a SPECIAL REPORT,"Presidential News Conference." The sad part,this guy was elected.
    Happy Valentine's Day & best wishes to all the contributors to this blog....

  8. A few more, for good measure:

    "A Word to Husbands"
    by Ogden Nash

    To keep your marriage brimming
    With love in the loving cup,
    Whenever you’re wrong, admit it;
    Whenever you’re right, shut up.

    "To My Valentine"
    by Ogden Nash

    More than a catbird hates a cat,
    Or a criminal hates a clue,
    Or the Axis hates the United States,
    That's how much I love you.

    I love you more than a duck can swim,
    And more than a grapefruit squirts,
    I love you more than a gin rummy is a bore,
    And more than a toothache hurts.

    As a shipwrecked sailor hates the sea,
    Or a juggler hates a shove,
    As a hostess detests unexpected guests,
    That's how much you I love.

    I love you more than a wasp can sting,
    And more than the subway jerks,
    I love you as much as a beggar needs a crutch,
    And more than a hangnail irks.

    I swear to you by the stars above,
    And below, if such there be,
    As the High Court loathes perjurious oathes,
    That's how you're loved by me.

    "I Do, I Will, I Have"
    by Ogden Nash

    How wise I am to have instructed the butler
    to instruct the first footman to instruct the second
    footman to instruct the doorman to order my carriage;
    I am about to volunteer a definition of marriage.
    Just as I know that there are two Hagens, Walter and Copen,
    I know that marriage is a legal and religious alliance entered
    into by a man who can't sleep with the window shut and a
    woman who can't sleep with the window open.
    Moreover, just as I am unsure of the difference between
    flora and fauna and flotsam and jetsam,
    I am quite sure that marriage is the alliance of two people
    one of whom never remembers birthdays and the other
    never forgetsam,
    And he refuses to believe there is a leak in the water pipe or
    the gas pipe and she is convinced she is about to asphyxiate
    or drown,
    And she says Quick get up and get my hairbrushes off the
    windowsill, it's raining in, and he replies Oh they're all right,

    it's only raining straight down.
    That is why marriage is so much more interesting than divorce,
    Because it's the only known example of the happy meeting of
    the immovable object and the irresistible force.
    So I hope husbands and wives will continue to debate and
    combat over everything debatable and combatable,
    Because I believe a little incompatibility is the spice of life,
    particularly if he has income and she is pattable.

    "The Romantic Age"
    by Ogden Nash

    This one is entering her teens,
    Ripe for sentimental scenes,
    Has picked a gangling unripe male,
    Sees herself in bridal veil,
    Presses lips and tosses head,
    Declares she's not too young to wed,
    Informs you pertly you forget
    Romeo and Juliet.
    Do not argue, do not shout;
    Remind her how that one turned out.

    "Tin Wedding Whistle"
    by Ogden Nash

    Though you know it anyhow
    Listen to me, darling, now,
    Proving what I need not prove
    How I know I love you, love.
    Near and far, near and far,
    I am happy where you are;
    Likewise I have never larnt
    How to be it where you aren't.
    Far and wide, far and wide,
    I can walk with you beside;
    Furthermore, I tell you what,
    I sit and sulk where you are not.
    Visitors remark my frown
    Where you're upstairs and I am down,
    Yes, and I'm afraid I pout
    When I'm indoors and you are out;
    But how contentedly I view
    Any room containing you.
    In fact I care not where you be,
    Just as long as it's with me.
    In all your absences I glimpse
    Fire and flood and trolls and imps.
    Is your train a minute slothful?
    I goad the stationmaster wrothful.
    When with friends to bridge you drive
    I never know if you're alive,
    And when you linger late in shops
    I long to telephone the cops.
    Yet how worth the waiting for,
    To see you coming through the door.
    Somehow, I can be complacent
    Never but with you adjacent.
    Near and far, near and far,
    I am happy where you are;
    Likewise I have never larnt
    How to be it where you aren't.
    Then grudge me not my fond endeavor,
    To hold you in my sight forever;
    Let none, not even you, disparage
    Such a valid reason for a marriage.

  9. Thanks for the Great V-Day Card.

    Thanks, too, for the reference to www.bust.com. I'd never seen it. Jim Born, of course, is a regular visitor.

  10. Oh Sweatheart!
    There's not a Dorothy P poem that you can't use today, I swear. i offer yet another - one which I don't know that I EVER saw before and I thought I owned every poem she ever wrote.

    Love Song
    My own dear love, he is strong and bold
    And he cares not what comes after.
    His words ring sweet as a chime of gold,
    And his eyes are lit with laughter.

    He is jubilant as a flag unfurled Oh, a girl, she'd not forget him.
    My own dear love, he is all my world,
    And I wish I'd never met him.

    My love, he's mad, and my love, he's fleet,
    And a wild young wood-thing bore him!
    The ways are fair to his roaming feet,
    And the skies are sunlit for him.

    As sharply sweet to my heart he seems
    As the fragrance of acacia.
    My own dear love, he is all my dreams, --
    And I wish he were in Asia.

    My love runs by like a day in June,
    And he makes no friends of sorrows.
    He'll tread his galloping rigadoon
    In the pathway of the morrows.

    He'll live his days where the sunbeams start,
    Nor could storm or wind uproot him.
    My own dear love, he is all my heart, --
    And I wish somebody'd shoot him.

  11. Those cards were just brilliant. Can't imagine a better V-Day post.

  12. PS --Somebody told me there were naked pictures of Jim Born here, but I don't see any.

  13. Michelle, thank you--and I think Jim is probably running around nudie-booty over at bust.com....

  14. Great collection. I can't believe you found the Vermont cheese farmer one! I'm so stoked. I have been talking about it to people for years.

    As you know, I was married on Valentine's Day (ahem, only because the place we wanted was available, ahem) and someone said, idiotically, "But if it doesn't work out, it will ruin Valentine's Day for you!" And I was like "Dude, if it doesn't work out, Valentine's Day will be the least of my problems.

  15. Yay for the pink nun! Can I take one home with me?

  16. Great cards. I can't even imagine how long it took you to load them all!

    I'm a big fan of Yeats' "When You Are Old." Love the Nash poems. My kids love his stuff (Isabelle, Isabelle). I like Walt Whitman's "To You I Come." Actually, I don't think that's the right title, but it sounds both corny and perverse, which is Whitmanesque!