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    [ID] => 19965
    [post_author] => 23
    [post_date] => 2019-04-26 11:34:15
    [post_date_gmt] => 2019-04-26 11:34:15
    [post_content] => Contains strong language.

Love is a hairy moth: fickle and fleeting,
Not the knight in shining armour I was promised,
But a balding man who can’t stop eating,
Just a turnip farmer shrouded in Wiltshire mist.

Would it hurt to bring me roses rather that shallots?
Or take me out to a fancy candle-lit dinner?
When, Giles, did you last tell me you loved me a lot?
Oh, and by the way yes, yes I am looking thinner!

Nonetheless, I had attempted to love you, of course!
Yet I did not vow my love to a deranged agriculturalist,
With less affection for me than his beloved horse;
God forsake he who knowingly ties us by the wrist!

And Shakespeare may well say that love is forever:
He never heard your thoughts on the f***ing weather.
    [post_title] => Love is a Hairy Moth
    [post_excerpt] => 
    [post_status] => publish
    [comment_status] => closed
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    [post_password] => 
    [post_name] => love-is-a-hairy-moth
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    [pinged] => 
    [post_modified] => 2019-08-08 11:20:25
    [post_modified_gmt] => 2019-08-08 11:20:25
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    [post_parent] => 0
    [guid] => http://poems.poetrysociety.org.uk/?post_type=poems&p=19965
    [menu_order] => 0
    [post_type] => poems
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        (
            [wpcf-published-in] => 
            [wpcf-date-published] => 2019
            [wpcf-summary-description] => This poem is commended in the Carol Ann Duffy challenge on Young Poets Network (YPN).

The challenge was co-written and judged by Duffy expert Dr Mari Hughes-Edwards, who said of this poem, "It gets the no-nonsense mentality of some poems of 'The Bees' and it also echoes the satirical approach to love's hopelessness of not only 'The World's Wife' but also the Anvil work such as her earlier work on breakups."
            [wpcf-rights-information] => 
            [wpcf-poem-award] => Commended, Carol Ann Duffy challenge
            [wpcf_pr_belongs] => 
        )

    [poet_data] => stdClass Object
        (
            [ID] => 19981
            [forename] => 
            [surname] => 
            [title] => Hebe Fryer
            [slug] => hebe-fryer
            [content] => Hebe is commended in the Carol Ann Duffy challenge on Young Poets Network, judged by Mari Hughes-Edwards, and celebrating Duffy's legacy as Poet Laureate.
        )

)
stdClass Object
(
    [ID] => 19981
    [forename] => 
    [surname] => 
    [title] => Hebe Fryer
    [slug] => hebe-fryer
    [content] => Hebe is commended in the Carol Ann Duffy challenge on Young Poets Network, judged by Mari Hughes-Edwards, and celebrating Duffy's legacy as Poet Laureate.
)

Love is a Hairy Moth

Hebe Fryer

Contains strong language.

Love is a hairy moth: fickle and fleeting,
Not the knight in shining armour I was promised,
But a balding man who can’t stop eating,
Just a turnip farmer shrouded in Wiltshire mist.

Would it hurt to bring me roses rather that shallots?
Or take me out to a fancy candle-lit dinner?
When, Giles, did you last tell me you loved me a lot?
Oh, and by the way yes, yes I am looking thinner!

Nonetheless, I had attempted to love you, of course!
Yet I did not vow my love to a deranged agriculturalist,
With less affection for me than his beloved horse;
God forsake he who knowingly ties us by the wrist!

And Shakespeare may well say that love is forever:
He never heard your thoughts on the f***ing weather.