Poetry in motion

I'll just jump on the anti-Valentine's day bandwagon that Ms Nominative Determinism complains has struck almost the whole of Gen-Y this year. I tried to skip right past the page in this morning's newspaper but the bright pink and red type jumped out at me and I couldn't help but read some of the poetry that people have written for their loved ones, who apparently have unfortunate monikers like Schmoopy or Wubbsy.
I was pleased to see that Hemlock has the same problem in the Big Lychee, but at least there the peddlers of such inane tripe have the excuse that English is probably not their first language.
No-one ever said it better than e.e. cummings:

i like my body when it is with your
body. It is so quite new a thing.
Muscles better and nerves more.
i like your body. i like what it does,
i like its hows. i like to feel the spine
of your body and its bones, and the trembling
-firm-smooth ness and which i will
again and again and again
kiss, i like kissing this and that of you,
i like, slowly stroking the, shocking fuzz
of your electric fur, and what-is-it comes
over parting flesh ... And eyes big love-crumbs,

and possibly i like the thrill

of under me you so quite new

Hmmm.... maybe I should go back and read some of the Valentine's day poems after all: the next e.e. cummings might be lurking among them.