Tragic Shakespearean Valentine Cards

The Tragic Valentines of William Shakespeare:



Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
To be? Not to be?
Which one should I do?

In thy orisons be all my sins remembered, valentine!



Daisies are pressed
Under a shoe,
Words can’t express
My love for you.


Lord M*****h

Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
Is this a dagger
That points me to you?



Your blood is red,
My blood is too,
If you prick me, I bleed
Exactly like you.


The Weyard Sisters

Swamp grass is tall, toadstools are cute,
The recipe calls for more eye of newt.

I’ll meet you in thunder, lightning, or in rain, valentine!



Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
Trust you almost as much
As some guy on my crew.



Roses are cut.
We have to set limits:
I’ll die for you, but
I won’t wait five minutes.

Clement Clarke Moore calls the Poetry Crisis Line (or does he?) – part 5

MOORE: With Ma in her nightgown, and me in my cap

It has come to our attention that “Account of a Visit from St. Nicholas” may have originally been written not by Clement Clarke Moore, but by Revolutionary War Major Henry Livingston, Jr.

This poses a conundrum for the cartoonist, as it calls into question what sort of cap the poet was wearing.

W.S. Merwin calls the Poetry Crisis Line (part 3)

PATIENCE (counselor): Poetry Crisis Line, what is your emergency?
W.S. MERWIN (caller): Listen,
PATIENCE: That’s what I’m here for.
MERWIN: With the night falling we are saying thank you.
PATIENCE: You’re welcome. Uh…for what?
MERWIN: We are stopping on the bridges
PATIENCE: Is there traffic behind you?
MERWIN: To bow from the railings.
PATIENCE: Just don’t lean over too far, OK?
MERWIN: We are running
PATIENCE: On the railings?
MERWIN: Out of the glass rooms
PATIENCE: Please tell me you’re not throwing stones.
MERWIN: With our mouths full of food.
PATIENCE: Are you trying to make me worry?
MERWIN: To look at the sky
PATIENCE: Why? What’s happening?
PATIENCE: Please don’t tell me they’re bombing the parking lot with turkeys?
MERWIN: Say thank you.
PATIENCE: Um…thanks?
MERWIN: We are standing by the water
PATIENCE: Not too close, I hope?
MERWIN: Thanking it.
PATIENCE: Right. Gratitude is good. But have you considered not engaging in risky behavior?
MERWIN: Standing by
PATIENCE: I mean as a proactive choice.

Sjohnna McCray calls the Poetry Crisis Line

KIM (counselor): Poetry Crisis Line, what is your emergency?
SJOHNNA MCCRAY: Rage is the language of men.
KIM: Let me see if I can find you a translator.
LUTHER (anger translator): Luther here. What the @#!? is your problem?

In celebration of both Father’s Day and Juneteenth this Sunday. Click here to read “Portrait of My Father as a Young Black Man” by Sjohnna McCray

Poetry Crisis Valentines 2022

Poetry Crisis Valentines 2022

Alexander Pope
Violets are blue,
roses are red,
let us rush in
where angels won’t tread.

Jenny Joseph
Roses are red,
violets are blue.
When I’m an old woman
I’ll dress like that too.

Elizabeth Bishop
Roses are found
on vines interlacing.
It’s not hard to master
the art of misplacing.

Gregory Corso
Exlposives are deadly,
violence is loud.
Can I get you a shroud?

Mark Strand
Roses are red,
violets are blue,
air is an obstacle
that we walk through.

Alberto Rios
Roses are red,
violets are blue,
the border is what
separates me from you.

James W. Hall
Woses aww wed,
but what makes me blue
Aww you SPIDERMAN too?

Maya Angelou
Roses are red,
violets are blue,
still I rise. Can I get
a rise out of you?

Dorothy Parker calls the Poetry Crisis Line

ROBERT BENCHLEY (counselor): Poetry Crisis Line, what is your emergency?
DOROTHY PARKER (caller): You come right over here and
BENCHLEY: We don’t do house calls.
PARKER: Explain
BENCHLEY: I can’t go there, but I can send an emergency poet–or the grammar police.
PARKER: Why they are having another year.
BENCHLEY: Would you rather be stuck in the previous one?


[from a telegram Dorothy Parker sent to Robert Benchley on December 31, 1929]

A Visit from the Recycling Truck

Concept and first couplet by Susan Young; completed by David Sklar

‘Twas the day after Christmas, and all through the house
Empty boxes and paper were strewn all about.
I stood in the living room, steeling my nerve
To take the recycling out to the curb.

The papers were scattered all over the floor,
In drifts in the corners, and one at the door.
I gazed at the carnage, admitted defeat,
Then swept like a fiend all the way to the street.

To the top of the porch! To the top of the wall!
Our pile of used wrappings had gotten so tall
That it shook when I swept, like a bowl full of jelly
(the same at our neighbors’, and their pile was smelly).

All the way up and down on both sides of the road
The mounds of bright papers looked fit to explode,
When what to my wondering eyes should appear?
The recycling truck! As it slowly rolled near,

There appeared to be something wrong with the suspension.
It shook as it went, like that jelly I’d mentioned.
In that gray, hazy morningtime, such was my luck
That the driver passed by without stopping the truck,

And I heard him explain as he trundled away,
The truck is all full, so I’m done for the day.”

Clement Clarke Moore calls the Poetry Crisis Line–page 4


ROSIE (counselor): I mean, nylon is very flammable. If there’s a fire–especially if the fireplace isn’t used often, like if you’ve just lit a fire for Christmas or Advent or–
CLEMENT CLARKE MOORE (caller): In hopes that Saint Nicholas soon would be there.
ROSIE: Now that’s just disturbing.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3