One of poetry's many functions throughout history has been convincing people to have sex. The most esteemed poet, Don Paterson, points this out at great length in his commentary on Shakespeare's sonnets. The 'come one laddie/lassie, let's get to it' poem is one with a great tradition and, frankly, a dying genre.
In an age where alcohol-advertisements are no longer allowed to suggest that the drink's effects puts you in greater chance of having your wicked way with someone, it's no wonder that creative writing classes and poetry workshops aren't allowed to make explicit the pulling-power of a well primed poem in their advertising campaigns. We're all thinking it though, right?
Well, no, no we're not. Poetry no longer seems to serve the seductive functions it once did (although, my perspective may be slightly skewed as, poet or not, I do have a pretty weird face). But there just isn't that abundance of come-hither versification that was once so well received.
Call it a paradigm shift, call it sexual equality, call it the purification of the art, call it what you will. I blame Craigslist. Where once the courtly lover would tire over the distillation of just the perfect cadences with which to woo his woman with full Petrarchan pomp, we now have an anything-goes electronic outlet for life's lonely hearts. The big leap on from the ones what you used to get in the local rag is that there are no longer word-limits on these things, so people can go on for as long as they want sending an all-purpose e-Woo out into the cloud for all to judge.
I'm sure I'm not the only fascinated spectator on Craigslist's lonely hearts column. In tribute to this, I've cobbled together a poem out of (verbatim) some of my favourite extracts from today's Craigslist emotional hopefuls. Enjoy, or don't. Those are the options.
Advert
Looking for an artist (of any sort)
a man who likes to be controlled
extra points for blue eyes.
Be open-minded, honest and love your life.
are you single?
are you free now?
I don’t want to make people uncomfortable.
A masculine, hairy, daddy or suited type
must be willing to bareback
My husband is working during the day;
I love to kiss.
I am very attracted to ginger guys
but struggle to meet them in London.
Any skint lads wanna sell me their boxers?
This is NOT no-strings-attached.
How about light lunch
followed by hot session at your place?
Perhaps you are a bored house husband
with a fairly thick well hung cock.
There’s definite chemistry,
the night ends pretty well.
If you don’t mind an injury or two,
is anyone interested in just licking tonight?
I am attractive
I am always laughing
please mail me
look after me
I’m slim, come rescue me.
-Craigslist
Phil Brown
Poetry Editor
