The Positive Thinking Fairy and Bitter McTwisted write a poem

But let us drop the turgid and clearly slightly eristic (another one for Ann, Bionic and H, there. You’re welcome) subject of my reproductive plans for the moment.

Sometimes, when I’m trapped in an interminable meeting and it’s not my turn to take the minutes, I indulge myself by writing verse (or drawing cats. And rectangles. Hello, Dr Freud, knock yourself out). Today I wrote a sonnet. About H.

Now, now, those of you who felt the urge to run away and puke (I know you’re out there), it’s not that sort of sonnet. Remember, I am made of knives and snark.

Enjoy. Or not. Or get all confused. All responses acceptable.

But what is more important? Come now, child,
A kind, a loving man, makes tea, gives flowers,
And braves the sanitary products aisle
Unasked, remembers chocolate has a power
To sooth, as does the washing-up being done –
He even listens to you, child! So what,
Exactly, mithers you? You aren’t so young
Or pretty any more; he thinks you’re hot
Regardless. He is still a handsome man.
Your world agrees you have ensnared a jewel
By some surprising, obscure, clever plan.
You’re loved and envied. Enjoy it, little fool.
Ignore the sour thoughts. Your mouth turns grim
Whenever you notice no one envies him.

About these ads

29 responses to “The Positive Thinking Fairy and Bitter McTwisted write a poem

  • Erica Douglas

    Oh, May, that’s beautiful. You’re very talented! (well, I already knew that, I love your writing style in this here blog). I like how one word of the sentence carries over to the next line. Thank you for sharing!

  • Hairy Farmer Family

    Envy? Well *I* do, rather: I don’t spend NEARLY enough time with your knives and snark!

    I also envy *you* -mentioning specifics, because H is indeed irreplaceable! – the braving of THAT aisle. In the midst of the recent Haemorrhage Unpleasantness, John arrived home from a journey undertaken solely for sanitary purposes complaining loudly that they had hidden the maternity towels under the sign marked ‘male deodorant.’

    Sonnet is fabulous, dear. If only to shame myself with poor comparison, I must check if I ever sent you the terrible verse I once scribbled about your ovary(ies)!

    • May

      *Hugs*

      Actually, the person who was dreadfullest (is that a word?) in THAT aisle for me was my mother. I’d beg her to get gigantic super mega plus tampons, and she’d return with regular, because regular is what EVERYONE uses, and then be all baffled when I’d polish off the entire box in one day. Can I help it if my uterus always unseemly in her enthusiasm?

      I demand the Ode to My Ovary! Demand it! Yes, forthwith!

  • Betty M

    I’m sure the last line is untrue. Brilliantly done though. An enviable skill right there.

    • May

      *Curtseys*

      But you haven’t met my family. They spend all day every day of every visit telling both me and H how lucky I am to have snaffled him and how wonderful and lovely he is and teasing him for putting up with me. Basically, he is the Sun God and I am chopped liver.

  • Ben Warsop

    Dammit but you are good.

  • Korechronicles

    I bow to your superior (and beautiful. And did I mention elegant?) use of the English language. To say nothing of your adept wielding of Knives and Snark to such devastating effect.

    And a sonnet with one of my favourite words…mithering. I’m only sorry that the sonnet needed to be written. Although I am utterly certain it was a better use of your time than the meeting in which it was scribed. In the same circumstances I am limited to the doodle…with predictably ugly results. Which may, or may not, be entirely related to the subject matter under discussion.

    And I have family members for whom eristic dialectic is their reason for living.

    • May

      If I were ever to write my family history, I’d call it ‘Eristic Dialectic’.

      All this flattery is making me feel quite flustered and weepy. Like an Oscar winner. The opposite of being mithered.

  • a

    Writing sonnets in meetings…what a concept! I used to do crossword puzzles.

    It is a lovely sonnet, but that last line…well, I know you’re not the only one who feels that way. I can’t identify with it, because I am the greatest blessing ever to have hit my husband’s life (otherwise known as no one else on earth would put up with his antics), but I know several women who would. My best friend, who is a delightful person with a variety of character flaws, has an even more delightful husband. Everyone loves him, and teases him about putting up with my friend. She knows she’s sometimes difficult and I know that he is not entirely a paragon. My mother might also identify – my father was a big favorite with my mom’s family and his own family, and my mother is a bit of a spoiled child.

    But don’t be grim. Because, much as we all think H is wonderful, we also know he does that thing when you fight (although some of us (i.e. me!) are still wondering what that thing is). And how lucky is he to have someone with a vocabulary like yours? And I suspect that there are plenty of men out there who envy H for his access to your spectacular bosom! :)

    • May

      Awww, a, you are kind.

      The thing is, I grew up in a culture where I was very firmly instructed that good looks, good cooking, and a certain wide-eyed worship of The Male and His Superior Intellect And Muscle was the way to be desirable and a good wife. Me? Well, I can cook. But I am the least good-looking of all my sisters (fact) and tend to a certain narrow-eyed disdain for The Male and His Inferior Just About Everything. Also, I was told over and over that men hated clever, witty women, especially women who are cleverer and wittier than them. My Dad likes women just clever enough to appreciate how clever he is. My ex-step-Dad likes them down-right thick. None of them can get over the fact that H actually LIKES me snarktastic and ridiculously overeducated compared to him (I doubt I’m cleverer, as such). And my female relations still like to sigh over the fact that, well, I’m a bit, you know, *rotund*, and my hair’s a mess, and my skin is a bit difficult and perhaps if I wore a nice blouse and put my hair UP….

      If there are any men out there who envy H, they’re politely not saying.

      (One of my new dresses rather showcases the bosom, with adorably predictable effect on H, who has been a tad distracted all day. I am being smug).

  • Teuchter

    There is so much to admire about you, my dear.
    Reading anything you write is like watching a prestidigitator at work; one isn’t quite sure how you do it but one is very glad you do.
    Your H is a lucky man – and one who seems sensible of this fact.

    On a slightly related note (that of poetry and husbands), I recently became reacquainted with an old Burns poem which struck a chord – http://www.robertburns.org/works/268.shtml
    It made me feel quite warm and fuzzy – and then I did some further reading and found that one of the world’s most famous love poems is considerably bawdier and less romantic in its original version.
    Cue warmth and fuzziness replaced by outright cackling and snorking.

    • May

      *Looks at fingers and twiddles them, pink as anything but jolly chuffed*

      Eddie Reader sang that one at a concert I attended. I felt all weepy. And now I must go and google the original words and harsh my mellow. But I like a good bit of bawdry, me!

  • Shannon

    Your calling. You haz it. Apart from the self-deprecation, because sonnets surely – surely! – speak the truth.

    Also, I had to look up eristic. I feel really good about that.

    • May

      Thank you, dear heart.

      Sonnets are an equivocatory form, really. Even Shakespeare – especially Shakespeare – said:

      When my love swears that she is made of truth
      I do believe her, though I know she lies,
      That she might think me some untutor’d youth,
      Unlearned in the world’s false subtleties.
      Thus vainly thinking that she thinks me young,
      Although she knows my days are past the best,
      Simply I credit her false-speaking tongue:
      On both sides thus is simple truth suppress’d.
      But wherefore says she not she is unjust?
      And wherefore say not I that I am old?
      O, love’s best habit is in seeming trust,
      And age in love loves not to have years told:
      Therefore I lie with her and she with me,
      And in our faults by lies we flatter’d be.

      New service – obscure word of the day (week. Depends on posting schedule).

  • Womb For Improvement

    Now that is what I call a productive meeting.

  • Lilian

    Ah, you are so good.

    I’m quite sure there are plenty of people out there who envy H. Your family aren’t exactly known for their sensitivity, are they? Probably the ones who envy him are the ones who keep their feelings to themselves.

    Having said all that, I identify with your last line. Mr C is gregarious and gorgeous and good company, whereas I…am not. Hey ho. Oh dear, couldn’t resist the alliteration. Sorry!

    • May

      Thank you, thank you, and again, thanks.

      Oh, I and many others envy Mr C. Quiet, intelligent and charming, is also Good. I’m a great one for holing up in the kitchen with one or two other like-minded souls at parties myself.

  • twangy

    That’s so good. More? Please?

    (The comment section has gone all mental, I hope this works.)

    • May

      The comments section HAS gone mental, hasn’t it? I’m having trouble commenting on MY OWN blog, bother it all to heck.

      You want more? Are you sure? It’s adorable of you to say so.

  • Solnushka

    Oh it is good to read some proper poetry again. Beautifully done. And bonus points for the semi-colon I reckon.

    Plus, I envy H the time he spends with you too. And he’s cute and all (Hi H!), but you have even better hair.

    • May

      PROPER poetry? This? *head explodes*

      Sorry about that. I’m feeling very overwhelmed by the positivity of the reaction. Positivity? Positiveness? That, anyway.

      I like semi-colons, me :)

      You are right. I do have better hair. Though H’s hair gets extra points for colour. People pay hundreds of pounds trying to get their hair that colour. And anyway, I envy B for having you for company

      *GROUP HUG*

  • Solnushka

    And on the subject of eristic dialogue (I, too, looked it up), B and I frequently argue about who is luckier to have the other. I reckon he is, and he thinks I am.

  • Shannon

    I had to re-visit to say thus:

    I can’t speak for H but seeing the two of you shows off one thing – he loves you very much. I know you know this. But I look at the two of you and know that you two are one of those great couples, the ones who may argue and fight but ultimately if it’s not you two together, then the world is more fucked up than I care to discuss. Peanut butter and jam (yes really). Marmite and cheese. Gin and tonic. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. May and H. Some things are always meant to be together.

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 71 other followers

%d bloggers like this: