My wedding day is special because
I stalked the prey
baited the trap
lured her unsuspectingly
out of the thicket
into the openness of love.
Circled stealthily her resistance
creeping ever closer,
listening to the thunder
of her beating heart,
feasting on the scent
of her unknowingness.
Slowly – ever quietly –
romancing the moment,
etching into memory
every blade of grass,
change of wind,
hint of distrust.
She gazed at me,
sun glinting off the towers
of a future’s distance,
awaiting fates moment.
I sprang forward
terrified at her acceptance
of my pursuit.
I had set the trap
and walked right into it.
John G. Lawless
Copyright © John lawless | Year Posted 2016
She descends from a summit vestibule
on powder fine as cotton down this day
of days in porcelain chiffon and tulle.
The winter firs in frost echo the way
her snowflake peau de soie in frozen jewel
cascades like waterfalls of ice. Tears weigh
the same as beaded pearls and just as cool;
they glisten in her bodice. The light plays
from a ghost sun inside them as in pools
of diamonds. She glides in mist-white sleigh
down slopes of eider, the cold glitter fools
even the nearest celebrant and strays
from hearts of men for she's just as cruel
as flood or famine on Winter's first day.
Copyright © Dale Gregory Cozart | Year Posted 2017
I walked down the countryside
and watched the rolling, green hills
and the curve of dirt road turned by an old mill,
the wood fences held the white stallions in,
and they looked at me, eyes black, and a mane pearl white.
Alas' two stallions off roamed the hills together
I smiled and imagined their love they shared.
As I came down the road,
I came to a town,
small with a large church in the center
and I heard the tolling of wedding bells.
I continued to walk
and the doors opened wide and a bride and groom
stepped out hand and hand,
smiling and proud.
I stopped and looked at them.
The bride looked at me and smiled... I tipped my hat to her,
and she came over to me and handed me her bouquet of white roses,
she beautiful and kind with her smile,
I looked at the groom, her new husband, her true love,
and I announced my happiness for them.
They kissed and left on a carriage, pulled by two white stallions.
Love be so true,
and love be so kind,
love so honest and so beautiful,
holy and glorious,
such beauty in marriage,
such lovely sounds of the rich tolling of wedding bells.
I continued down and entered a pub,
alas' I bought a whiskey and drank in celebration,
too the newly weds,
and I sang a cheerful tune,
and I could still hear the beautiful tolling of Wedding Bells.
Love is so beautiful.
Copyright © Chris Boskovski | Year Posted 2013
Marriage is a funeral with music,
And death is a silent wedding,
Divorce is a sad journey,
With a one way ticket and no return,
Beauty ages with time,
And becomes ugly,
Body flesh loosens,
Dies and rottens,
But voice comes from a soul,
And this is rightly eternal,
So live by decree and endorse it
On this parchment, and leave
That one day,
One will remember you,
When your words, voice is mentioned.
Copyright © Abder Derradji | Year Posted 2015
The wedding ring is missing
one can see only empty ring finger
Though wedding gown, shoes still on,
no one knows where the ring went
The oath solemnly taken at holy altar,
wedding kisses made in public view,
and the hope that followed the event,
have vanished without trace and truth.
In place of ring there is a dry weed.
In place of wedding kiss there is fury.
In place of solemn oath there is curse.
In place of wedding joy there are tears
The officiating clergy looks on in fear.
Bride now divorced, sing funeral songs.
Her children, relatives, friends in agony,
vow never to be fooled and dumped
Africa where grooms fix wedding rings,
make holy oaths, kiss for convenience,
then abandon brides to their cruel fates,
make weddings into play games of lies.
If the land of wedding jokes glorifies lies,
then how can the wedding ring matter?
Copyright © Solomon Ochwo-Oburu | Year Posted 2017