Okay, time to lighten things up a bit on the sonnets. Here's one I did for Valentine's day awhile back...
Balloons back then were not an easy matter
by Gideon Burton
Balloons back then were not an easy matter.
In ancient times they had to kill a goat,
extract its large intestine (or its bladder);
some lumberjack would huff, the ball would bloat.
Today, some weakling florist turns the gas,
and presto, a bouquet of mylar orbs!
Expired the rites of manhood to be passed,
inflating them no time nor sweat absorbs.
True valentines their own balloons must fashion,
must find a cow or rhino to dispatch,
must find the guts to well express his passion,
to show his love that florist’s met his match.
Believe me, this procedure’s tripe and true:
she’ll know your love by just how well you blew.
Feel free to copy, imitate, remix, or redistribute this poem as long as you give proper acknowledgment of authorship. Photo: flickr - km33068