Dancing by the Light of the Moon Read online

  Europium, zirconium, lutetium, vanadium,

  And lanthanum and osmium and astatine and radium,

  And gold, protactinium and indium and gallium,

  And iodine and thorium and thulium and thallium.

  There’s yttrium, ytterbium, actinium, rubidium,

  And boron, gadolinium, niobium, iridium,

  And strontium and silicon and silver and samarium,

  And bismuth, bromine, lithium, beryllium, and barium.

  There’s holmium and helium and hafnium and erbium,

  And phosphorus and francium and fluorine and terbium,

  And manganese and mercury, molybdenum, magnesium,

  Dysprosium and scandium and cerium and cesium.

  And lead, praseodymium, and platinum, plutonium,

  Palladium, promethium, potassium, polonium,

  And tantalum, technetium, titanium, tellurium,

  And cadmium and calcium and chromium and curium.

  There’s sulfur, californium, and fermium, berkelium,

  And also mendelevium, einsteinium, nobelium,

  And argon, krypton, neon, radon, xenon, zinc, and rhodium,

  And chlorine, carbon, cobalt, copper, tungsten, tin and sodium.

  These are the only ones of which the news has come to Harvard,

  And there may be many others but they haven’t been discavard.

  How to Lose 2lbs a Week

  by Gyles Brandreth

  (born 1948)

  To lose two pounds a week

  To regain a figure slim and sleek

  The rules are simple, if not nice:

  No bread, potato, and no rice,

  And when it comes to pasta, basta!

  Carbs are out, and booze is too.

  It’s tough, but do it and the news is you,

  While inwardly resentful, bitter,

  Outwardly are lither, fitter,

  Trimmer, slimmer – nippy, zippy!

  Yippee!

  The diet works. It has my wife’s blessing. She watches her weight, and to great effect. But not everyone approves.

  Against Dieting

  by Blake Morrison

  (born 1950)

  Please, darling, no more diets.

  I’ve read the books on why it’s

  good for one’s esteem.

  I’ve watched you jogging lanes and pounding treadmills.

  I’ve even shed some kilos of my own.

  But enough. What are love handles

  between friends? For half a stone

  it isn’t worth the sweat.

  I’ve had it up to here with crispbread.

  I doubt the premise, too.

  Try to see it from my point of view.

  I want not less but more of you.

  If you are a married man, what follows could be the most useful poem in the book.

  A Word to Husbands

  by Ogden Nash

  (1902–71)

  To keep your marriage brimming

  With love in the loving cup,

  Whenever you’re wrong, admit it;

  Whenever you’re right, shut up.

  My favourite philosopher is probably Will Rogers (1879–1935), a Cherokee American showman, film star, humorist, columnist and social commentator from Oklahoma, who travelled the world, made seventy-one movies (fifty of them ‘silents’) and wrote more than four thousand newspaper columns featuring such nuggets of wisdom as these:

  Never let yesterday use up too much of today.

  Even if you’re on the right track, you’ll get run over if you just sit there.

  Good judgment comes from experience, and a lot of that comes from bad judgment.

  Everybody is ignorant, only on different subjects.

  Never miss a good chance to shut up.

  Too many people spend money they haven’t earned to buy things they don’t want to impress people they don’t like.

  Everything is changing. People are taking their comedians seriously and the politicians as a joke.

  I don’t know whether Will Rogers came up with his line ‘The best way out of a difficulty is through it’ before or after Robert Frost wrote ‘The best way out is always through’, but, either way, it’s good advice. The variation of the line I like is the one that says, ‘The best way out is through the door’ – and that’s why I think this poem by the Czech immunologist and poet, Miroslav Holub, is one of the most useful and inspiring that I know. As you read it, and then as you learn it by heart, be aware of the punctuation and the line-breaks.

  The door

  by Miroslav Holub

  (1923–98)

  Go and open the door.

  Maybe outside there’s

  a tree, or a wood,

  a garden,

  or a magic city.

  Go and open the door.

  Maybe a dog’s rummaging.

  Maybe you’ll see a face,

  or an eye,

  or the picture

  of a picture.

  Go and open the door.

  If there’s a fog

  it will clear.

  Go and open the door.

  Even if there’s only

  the darkness ticking,

  even if there’s only

  the hollow wind,

  even if

  nothing

  is there,

  go and open the door.

  At least

  there’ll be

  a draught.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Come Live with Me, and Be My LoveRomance guaranteed

  Poetry can transform your love life. Learning a poem by heart can move your relationship to the next level. It really can.

  Here’s how:

  First, find your object of desire.

  At your second date (not your first: these things shouldn’t be rushed), move the conversation on to favourite things: ask the object of desire about their favourite film, their favourite book, their favourite poem … Take the name of the poem on board, but don’t make a meal of it.

  Between that second date and the fourth or fifth date (again, don’t rush it: slowly slowly catchy monkey), look up the poem and learn it by heart – secretly.

  At that fourth or fifth date, or later, or sooner, or whenever the moment feels just right, simply say: ‘I have a present for you’ – and then recite your beloved’s favourite poem to them off by heart.

  As a seduction technique, it’s unbeatable. It’s free, it’s easy, and it never fails. It doesn’t matter what the poem is: what matters is that you remembered what it was and then took the time and trouble to learn it off by heart so that, at an appropriate but unexpected moment, you could present it as a gift to the object of your desire.

  If your gift is well received (and it will be), and it turns out your intended enjoys poetry as you do (if they don’t, I’m not sure they are worth pursuing), you can then try doing something very intimate together: you can both learn the same poem by heart – perhaps one of these.

  You can learn your jointly chosen poem separately or together, but once you have learnt it you must speak it to one another face to face. Until you have tried it, you won’t believe how sexy the experience can be.

  The Passionate Shepherd to His Love

  by Christopher Marlowe

  (1564–93)

  Come live with me, and be my love,

  And we will all the pleasures prove,

  That valleys, groves, hills and fields,

  Woods, or steepy mountain yields.

  And we will sit upon the rocks,

  Seeing the shepherds feed their flocks

  By shallow rivers, to whose falls

  Melodious birds sing madrigals.

  And I will make thee beds of roses,

  And a thousand fragrant posies,

  A cap of flowers and a kirtle

  Embroidered all with leaves of myrtle;

  A gown made of the finest wool

  Which from our pretty lambs we pull,

  Fa
ir lined slippers for the cold,

  With buckles of the purest gold;

  A belt of straw and ivy-buds,

  With coral clasps and amber studs:

  And if these pleasures may thee move,

  Come live with me, and be my love.

  The shepherd swains shall dance and sing

  For thy delight each May-morning:

  If these delights thy mind may move,

  Then live with me, and be my love.

  To His Coy Mistress

  by Andrew Marvell

  (1621–78)

  Had we but world enough, and time,

  This coyness, Lady, were no crime.

  We would sit down, and think which way

  To walk, and pass our long love’s day.

  Thou by the Indian Ganges’ side

  Shouldst rubies find: I by the tide

  Of Humber would complain. I would

  Love you ten years before the Flood:

  And you should, if you please, refuse

  Till the conversion of the Jews.

  My vegetable love should grow

  Vaster than empires, and more slow.

  An hundred years should go to praise

  Thine eyes, and on thy forehead gaze.

  Two hundred to adore each breast;

  But thirty thousand to the rest.

  An age at least to every part,

  And the last age should show your heart:

  For, Lady, you deserve this state;

  Nor would I love at lower rate.

  But at my back I always hear

  Time’s wingèd chariot hurrying near;

  And yonder all before us lie

  Deserts of vast eternity.

  Thy beauty shall no more be found;

  Nor, in thy marble vault, shall sound

  My echoing song: then worms shall try

  That long-preserved virginity:

  And your quaint honour turn to dust;

  And into ashes all my lust.

  The grave’s a fine and private place,

  But none, I think, do there embrace.

  Now therefore, while the youthful hue

  Sits on thy skin like morning dew,

  And while thy willing soul transpires

  At every pore with instant fires,

  Now let us sport us while we may;

  And now, like amorous birds of prey,

  Rather at once our time devour,

  Than languish in his slow-chapped power.

  Let us roll all our strength and all

  Our sweetness up into one ball:

  And tear our pleasures with rough strife

  Through the iron gates of life:

  Thus, though we cannot make our sun

  Stand still, yet we will make him run.

  A Red, Red Rose

  by Robert Burns

  (1759–96)

  My luve is like a red, red rose,

  That’s newly sprung in June;

  My luve is like the melodie,

  That’s sweetly play’d in tune.

  As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,

  So deep in luve am I,

  And I will luve thee still, my dear,

  Till a’ the seas gang dry.

  Till a’ the seas gang dry, my dear,

  And the rocks melt wi’ the sun!

  I will luve thee still, my dear,

  While the sands o’ life shall run.

  And fare-thee-weel, my only luve,

  And fare-thee-weel a while!

  And I will come again, my luve,

  Tho’ it were ten-thousand mile!

  Meeting at Night

  by Robert Browning

  (1812–89)

  The grey sea and the long black land;

  And the yellow half-moon large and low;

  And the startled little waves that leap

  In fiery ringlets from their sleep,

  As I gain the cove with pushing prow,

  And quench its speed i’ the slushy sand.

  Then a mile of warm sea-scented beach;

  Three fields to cross till a farm appears;

  A tap at the pane, the quick sharp scratch

  And blue spurt of a lighted match,

  And a voice less loud, through its joys and fears,

  Than the two hearts beating each to each!

  Wild Nights

  by Emily Dickinson

  (1830–86)

  Wild nights! Wild nights!

  Were I with thee,

  Wild nights should be

  Our luxury!

  Futile the winds

  To a heart in port, –

  Done with the compass,

  Done with the chart.

  Rowing in Eden!

  Ah! the sea!

  Might I but moor

  To-night in thee!

  I’ve Got You under My Skin

  by Cole Porter

  (1891–1964)fn1

  I’ve got you under my skin,

  I’ve got you deep in the heart of me,

  So deep in my heart, you’re really a part of me,

  I’ve got you under my skin.

  I tried so not to give in,

  I said to myself, ‘This affair it never will go so well.’

  But why should I try to resist when, darling, I know so well

  I’ve got you under my skin.

  I’d sacrifice anything, come what might,

  For the sake of having you near,

  In spite of a warning voice that comes in the night,

  And repeats and repeats in my ear,

  ‘Don’t you know, little fool, you never can win,

  Use your mentality,

  Wake up to reality.’

  But each time I do, just the thought of you

  Makes me stop, before I begin,

  ’Cause I’ve got you under my skin.

  Strawberries

  by Edwin Morgan

  (1920–2010)

  There were never strawberries

  like the ones we had

  that sultry afternoon

  sitting on the step

  of the open french window

  facing each other

  your knees held in mine

  the blue plates in our laps

  the strawberries glistening

  in the hot sunlight

  we dipped them in sugar

  looking at each other

  not hurrying the feast

  for one to come

  the empty plates

  laid on the stone together

  with the two forks crossed

  and I bent towards you

  sweet in that air

  in my arms

  abandoned like a child

  from your eager mouth

  the taste of strawberries

  in my memory

  lean back again

  let me love you

  let the sun beat

  on our forgetfulness

  one hour of all

  the heat intense

  and summer lightning

  on the Kilpatrick hills

  let the storm wash the plates

  Atlas

  by U. A. Fanthorpe

  (1929–2009)

  There is a kind of love called maintenance,

  Which stores the WD40 and knows when to use it;

  Which checks the insurance, and doesn’t forget

  The milkman; which remembers to plant bulbs;

  Which answers letters; which knows the way

  The money goes; which deals with dentists

  And Road Fund Tax and meeting trains,

  And postcards to the lonely; which upholds

  The permanently ricketty elaborate

  Structures of living; which is Atlas.

  And maintenance is the sensible side of love,

  Which knows what time and weather are doing

  To my brickwork; insulates my faulty wiring;

  Laughs at my dryrotten jokes; remembers

&
nbsp; My need for gloss and grouting; which keeps

  My suspect edifice upright in air,

  As Atlas did the sky.

  Not Only

  by Brian Patten

  (born 1946)

  Not only the leaf shivering with delight

  No,

  Not only the morning grass shrugging off the weight of frost

  No,

  Not only the wings of the crane fly consumed by fire

  No,

  Not only steam rising from the horse’s back

  No,

  Not only the sound of the sunflower roaring

  No,

  Not only the golden spider spinning

  No,

  Not only the cathedral window deep inside the raindrop

  No,

  Not only the door opening at the back of the clouds

  No,

  Not only flakes of light settling like snow

  No,

  Not only the sky as blue and smooth as an egg

  No,

  Not only these things

  No,

  But without you none of these things.

  The Beauty of Union

  by George the Poet

  (born 1991)fn2

  There’s an indescribable beauty in union

  In two beings forming one new being

  Entering each other’s world

  Surrendering each other’s selves

  Accepting the invitation to be everything to someone else

  There’s an unparalleled bravery in union

  In telling the one you love:

  ‘The only way that we can truly win

  Is if I think of you in everything I do

  And honour every decision you faithfully include me in.’

  Love gives union true meaning

  It illuminates the path

  It wants us to compromise, communicate and laugh

  It wants us to elevate, appreciate without pride

  Love is oblivious to the outside

  Even with an audience of millions

  Even when that love bears immortal significance

  All of this is met with cordial indifference

  By the two people at the heart of it

  Two individuals when they started it

  Becoming two halves of one partnership

  Such is the beauty of union

  Such is the beauty of union