Don't Have To Be A Genius To Write A Love Poem
by Marguerite Bonneville
poems are a wonderfully romantic gesture and can often express your thoughts
far more eloquently than verbal communication.
you have some talent with words, why not take a few moments and try your
hand at writing a poem for your love? Just sit down and list all the reasons
why you think he’s special. Then put them into
free verse format: a wide column of lines, roughly the same length,
which may rhyme but don't need to.
if your poem won't win any literary prizes, the person you present it to
will most likely treasure it as if it were composed by one of the great
Romantic poets. People tend to value a personalized gift far more than one
that's purchased. What they're really appreciating is the time and effort
invested on their behalf.
like to share a story of the first time I received a love poem.
I was twelve years old I had a crush on Robert, the new boy in my class at
school, and he had very generously decided that I was "cute". One
afternoon we were waiting with some classmates at the bus stop when he
announced that he didn't like me anymore. He was now in love with my best
was so incensed by this betrayal that I lunged at him and chased him down
the street. He swerved into the gutter and I bolted after him just as the
bus pulled in. It hit me from behind and I went down. The bus then ran over
my right foot.
short time later, the ambulance arrived and the paramedic examined me. He
decided that I didn't need hospitalization so he drove me home with
instructions to spend the next six weeks in bed. Meanwhile, a distraught
Robert was blaming himself for the accident. He asked the other children at
the bus stop where I lived, and walked the two miles to my house. Then he
sat across the street on the pavement, wondering if my father would strangle
him if he knocked at the front door.
couple of hours later he worked up the courage to confront my father, which
turned out to be something of an anti-climax because my father had no idea
about Robert's part in the drama. When Robert tiptoed into my room he handed
me a sheet of paper; he had written a poem for me as he sat across the
street from my house. I remember how thrilled I was that someone would do
such a thing. It was like something out of a novel or a movie.
kept that poem, which ran one and a half pages, for a number of years, until
it disappeared when we moved a
decade later. But I still remember the first four lines:
name is Marguerite
was a lifetime ago and yet those words remain in my memory.
for the boy himself, by the time I got back to school Robert had moved on to
greener pastures (he now liked my best friend's new best friend). But that
hardly mattered as I was now a minor celebrity because I got hit by a bus
while chasing a boy. The nuns had a field day praying for my soul, which was
not the last time they'd engage in that futile exercise.
right foot is still a little flatter than my left but it was worth it for
the notoriety. And hey, Robert, wherever you are, thanks for the memory.
| Mission | Editorials
| Short Stories and Prose
| Poetry | Articles | Arts & Culture
| Book Reviews | Education
All content Copyright © 2004, Margot
Van Sluytman, unless otherwise noted.
Design & Programming Copyright © 2004, Richard McKenna