What are you so crazy about,
my ever so sweet one, to meet
your poet, to hear him greet
you? Can't you just live without
his touches, caresses, and ***?
Entrusting him with your eggs?!

My eggs in one basket (that's you!),
is that what you dream of, dear?
You being my lady here,
and loving me hotly, too?
Our house filled with laughters and joy,
as we'll have that girl and that boy?

When Harry met Meghan, he held his breath,
would write her a poem, if only he could,
and no one else would he love till his death,
and bowed and smiled, as a gentleman should.
And she, in her sheer, unexpected joy,
would admit to herself: "Such an interesting boy!
Now, what can we do with those years ahead?
Watch each other´s eyes, and share our bed!"


(May 2018, ©  JVT Jensson)

That Poltava Lady Elena
would rather stay in her dress
for the very first day at least !
I've neither got AIDS nor eczema,
and tend not to make such a mess
as before, though still such a beast!

O, mightn't we join our forces
happily through the campaign
of life, in our fearless way?
And riding Arabian horses
would suit us----see El Alamein?
and so many a beautiful day.

Somebody, for his silk-soft ***,
would need a golden toilet
to sit on, cozily smoking grass,
though "the pigs might easily spoil it";
a man of action he surely was,
notwithstanding his qualms (because
raised by nuns) he lent his hand
to the saving of treasures of the land.
(Far-fetched though the role of the late PM be,
he sure would have farted contentedly.)


https://edition.cnn.com/style/article/uk-blenheim-palace-gold-toilet-scli-gbr-intl/index.html