Long Flower girl Poems
Long Flower girl Poems. Below are the most popular long Flower girl by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Flower girl poems by poem length and keyword.
Weddings most often take place in June because...
a. It's the traditional month
b. More flowers are in bloom then
c. Mother's coerce their daughters to choose it
d. As a little girl, it was the bride-to-be's dream
A wedding planner is most often used to...
a. Prevent the bride from becoming Bridezilla
b. give the groom an excuse to not make a decision
c. deal with overbearing mothers
d. take charge so the couple doesn't decide to elope
Choosing a wedding gown presents a dilemma when...
a. no one likes the only dress the bride loves
b. the bride's mother will only pay for the one she chooses
c. the groom is present and only wants a sexy gown
d. the bride cries when she tries on every gown in the store
There's nothing worse than a bride's mother who...
a. thinks she's the bride, living vicariously through her daughter
b. dresses like she's 20 when she's actually 50 and 'fluffy'
c. gives the groom's mother the evil eye
d. flirts with the groom's handsome father
In dealing with choosing a wedding party, there will be...
a. bridesmaids who refuse to wear a certain color
b. jealousy among them to be the maid of honor
c. fighting over who should catch the bouquet
d. at least one who will flirt shamelessly with the groom
The wedding day becomes a disaster when...
a. It's storming and no back up plan was made
b. the bride can't fit into her size 4 dress after gaining 20 lbs.
c. the couple realizes now that they should've hired a planner
d. the flower girl has a temper tantrum halfway down the aisle
e. yes, of course, this is the place for an "all of the above"
When it's time to recite their vows...
a. the bride blubbers so much she can't speak hers
b. the groom forgot to write his and ad libs, "Roses are red..."
c. the bride's ex starts speaking the ones he said to her
d. chaos reigns when two groomsmen take him down
At the reception, drama takes place when...
a. the best man's toast reveals the groom slept with all the bridesmaids
b. guests are complaining about terrible food, and no live music
c. the groom smashes cake all over the bride's face (hate that)
d. the bride, still holding the knife, threatens to use it
January 28, 2023
The Multiple Choice Contest
Sponsored by Suzanne Delaney
I was just four when I discovered that some grown-ups cry.
That’s because I saw my mommy dragging my daddy down the stairs,
Her eyes so full of tears that they fairly poured down her flimsy nightgown.
Daddy wasn’t crying. Daddy was dead.
When I was six, I had cause to cry on my own account.
Mommy had been dating a man, she said if they married I would be a flower girl.
One night she came into my room crying a little and said she was sorry, they eloped.
I cried quietly. I’m not sure it was all for me.
At eleven, a whole new kind of tears entered my life.
Asleep in my room late at night, I awoke to my mom screaming and sobbing.
My three-year-old sister slept next to me so I just listened as my stepfather beat her.
I cried so hard. I thought I would never stop.
Age 20 and happy to be in college away from the pain.
Divorced, mom found a new love in vodka, and he controlled her more than her ex.
I brought my love home to meet her, and she asked him how he could like a fat, lazy slob like me?
I knew I shouldn’t cry. It didn’t stop me.
In my life have been many opportunities to cry.
Being told I would die when my daughter was a baby and I thirty-two,
The death of my mother, my youngest daughter’s fiancé dying of cystic fibrosis.
With each tear I fade a little. I’m almost gone.
So now in my 50s, I find out my oldest daughter is sick.
Stage four lymphoma, and she didn’t cry through chemo, hair loss,
Almost dying four times in treatment, emergency surgery, pulmonary embolism.
It’s okay. I cried enough for both of us.
She is twenty-six, and sometimes I can hear her crying.
Her lymphoma is back, creeping into her spine like an armed terrorist,
And while it is a small encampment that hasn’t grown, our fear, sadness, and helplessness increases daily.
I hear her cry. I make sure she can’t hear me.
I am approaching sixty; sometimes I feel one hundred.
I wonder if God has allotted us a finite number of tears for our lifetime,
If those tears are stored in the chambers of our heart and we need to conserve some for what tomorrow holds.
Let her last tear be her last tear. But give me one last tear — sparkling and light — dancing down my cheek in gratitude as I fade to clear.
fbruary 2, 2019
Dear God,
This is a letter from your ***** daughter.
Wait, hold up did this girl just say *****?
"You are not a child of God!" Someone shouts!
Oh shut up! This is my letter.
Anyway you know I grew up in church
Singing your songs swaying in the pews
Lifting my hands high up
Shouting my praises
Hallelujah Amen!
God is GOOD!
But as I grew older
Just the thought of your name made me squirm
Soon the songs changed pitch
And sounded off key
I couldn't sit through a Sunday school class
Without cringing
When bibles were being handed out I pulled my hand away
Like your word would burn me like hot coals
And soon after that the music completely stopped
I wasn't going to church
I cut ties with my choir boy and flower girl looking friends
I traded Sunday dresses for ripped tights and combat boots
I cut my hair SHORT
I got called a boy
But I wasn't offended
I started looking at boys in a new way
I liked them
Soon after that...I also started looking at girls
I felt the same feeling I felt for boys
I wasn't ashamed...
I was told I should being what they called a "christian"
But I wasn't one
I didn't want to even be one
The name sounded dirty
Foul
I wanted to gag at the sound
Bringing up my past is never good
And you know I still am not a "Christian"
I believe in God, but that doesn't mean "Christian"
No offense big man but your hardcore "followers", these so called Christians, hate me
They are the BIGGEST hypocrites I've met
"Oh we love everyone" they claim
But once they find out the truth about me?
"God hates fags!" "Sinner!" "Blaspheme!"
Your reply?
"SCREW YOU SHE IS MY DAUGHTER TOO!"
Wait can god say screw you?
I guess it doesn't matter I mean you are God.
Personally I think it would be awesome to hear you say screw you
That would make me want to give you a high five
And you know God I realize now
You aren't all bad
I may not have it figured all out
But black or white
Young or old
Boy or Girl
Straight or *****
You love me all the same
With all her love,
Your ***** Daughter :)
P.S. Thanks for the rainbows :)
The world is quiet here
Yet growing louder by the day
Renting paradise from vultures
Split amongst two flavors of instability
I clamored and dreamed for that golden armor
That title that would cement my name in history
To be a "hero" to someone I'd lose contact with forever
Scars fade, and eternity is short
I saw my dreams given flesh
No gaps left to fill with fantasy
Universally agreed upon perfection
Yet we all clamor for the imperfect
Through them, my dreams were given flesh
Warmth on warmth, fear on tenderness
To be able to understand but not empathize
In a way that mattered enough to keep dreaming
The consciousness may forget, but the body remembers
Every molecule tattooed on my gray matter
Screaming for familiarity in that paradise of dreams
How cruel the unconscious mind may be at times
Ego death and carry on
Memories I can hardly call mine when it feels like I died
Piloting a stranger's corpse with his own baggage
Who were you, Derek? Why do I dream your dreams?
Redwood, redwood
The perfect antidote to tradition and trauma
So why does the latter grip me so
When it makes such a poor foundation?
The flower girl piloting your body is a mass of contradiction
Clinging to your first word, your fervent dream
A redwood ship battered by your cresting waves
Die a better death and quit clinging to your remains
I wish you were me
As anyone wishes they could do it all over again
I know your pain better than you do
Even if it meant I would die, I'd grant you that knowledge
Mother Theresa burns in Hell
Knowing there's nothing noble about suffering
The modern king's cruel facsimile of Jesus' word
Would make that poor carpenter weep in sadness and rage
You needn't have feared, poor Derek
For in choosing to hug over maim
You were far closer to Him than anyone
Who blindly listened to the charlatan on the pulpit while you slept
You were blindly resilient, sweet departed
So grant me that tenacity and simplicity
If I grant you the peace you desired
Will you grant me the peace that I do?
Good memories of our brother Tom,
I remember growing up with Tom.
He is my favorite brother,
When we came to Canada and he was born.
The beautiful days together,
When Tom was a baby.
I used to watch him,
I would walk around the playpen.
Mom hoped to have a boy with curly hair,
So she put rollers in his hair,he looked really cute.
When he was older, I remember him going to boy scouts,
He was friends with the son of the scout leader.
He liked staying at his friends house.
When our parents and I went on vacation, he would stay there.
Tom was photographed beside the Spruce tree at our parents, house to see how tall he was.
He went to elementary school and secondary school and teacher's college and graduated.
Tom became a secondary school teacher and taught for many years,
He retired and enjoyed his retirement.
I remember the years when he met his wife at
Erindale College when he was an AV specialist.
Father Dr. Wolf was a professor at the college.
He proposed to his future wife Gail.
They had a beautiful wedding at Pioneer village,
I was a bridesmaid at their wedding.
Antje you were a flower girl at the wedding.
I remember the coach where they rode.
Tom and Gail were blessed with two children,
Handsome Patrick and beautiful Frieda.
Frieda became a teacher like I did,
Patrick became a physio-therapist.
We have beautiful memories,
Do you remember the picnic at Whittchurch conservatiom area years ago.
The reunion here at at senior's residence,
Each person brought pot luck, a delicious salad.
Tom provided the background music,
Our parents wished us to sit at one table.
I think that it was Christmas,
I provided the Santas and Christmas plates.
Good time was had by all,
We have many good memories.
He had many happy years as a retiree,
We will always remember our beloved husband,father and brother, also uncle.
May God bless you in heaven,
You will stay in our memories forever.
Author: Gwen von Erlach Schutz
Beside a gilded wall of white a dainty bench is resting;
Victorian accents swirl about the ornate room, providing
An elegance, a beauty in each line and curve, attesting
To cultured tastes and upscale life, and hours spent deciding
What shapes and colors best would suit the airy, springtime feeling:
But looking closely, something there upon the bench reposes,
A lady's fan and soft kid gloves, their jumbled state revealing
What hasty movements cast them all aside when fragrant roses
Arrived in state with baby's breath, and some white note, nigh hidden
In bursting blooms of rainbow hue, by unknown hands delivered:
And having noted thus, the eye could not but roam unbidden
To she who holds the rose bouquet, to she who slightly shivered
With thoughts that youths so oft imagine, thoughts that made her giddy
And blushed her cheeks the color of the rosy dress cascading
With lacy ruffles from her shoulders, looking just as pretty
As her face, which looks for all the world like roses never fading;
Two lips like shiny cherries, or the poppies that she tends to,
Complexion like a creamy rose with hints of pink surrounding
The fragile outer curling of its leaves; brown eyes that send you
A warm, quick-spreading feeling, like the first hot sunrays bounding
Thro' seas of blue to make the greengrass grow. Now look, she's taking
The little note from out among the stems; perhaps with quiet
And careful steps the message could be read; I have to try it.
"My dearest Rose, I never could imagine so befitting
A name for one who does resemble all that man finds charming
In lovely blossoms: beauty surely, grace as they are flitting
In breezes sweet of scent, and frailty, which I find disarming;
So here's a gift no prettier and sweet than you. Sincerely,
A man that loves you more than you could know.
Quatrains of decapentasyllabic verse followed by a single line of iambic pentameter.
Written by Isaiah Zerbst. Published for the first time January 26, 2015.
Having sharp teeth yet she does not eat with these Love and beauty hidden as she rises from the heaths The fragrance behind the ears and red upon the lips The flowing dress and swaying hips For the sweet breeze the flower girl leaps For those that joy and those that weep A sad shroud upon the lost lover In remembrance she does cover taken before dawn for oil so sweet she is walked upon like a velvet street she has been strewn upon the bed of poem and prose My colorful sweetbriar by her other name is called the rose
I awakened about midnight in the middle of the day.
I was crawling swiftly toward you as I slowly raced away.
I hummed a merry melody that truly had no tune
As I ate my cup of coffee and then drank my bowl of prune.
The pot of beans boiled over upon the pristine ceiling
So I tossed out the banana and I ate the wormy peeling.
The cat was barking at me and the happy dog meowed
As I stood out there so lonely in the middle of a crowd.
The sun was shining brightly in a snowy blackened sky,
I was a girl so much in hate I wished I that I could die.
The wilted flowers were nice and fresh just as they ought to be,
The ugly ones you sent me from so far across the sea.
The postman brought the email that I had mailed to you.
He said it had no stamp and so he couldn't let it through.
I long so much to see you and to look in your brown eye
And I cannot wait to hold you and to say a sad goodbye.
If you want to read my letter, please do call me yesterday.
I cannot wait to see you so please take the long hard way.
My daddy said he’s happy to give you my eager hand,
The one that’s always begging for his money, understand.
The guests are now arriving in their wrinkled, tattered rags
And the ushers have been drinking rare champagne from paper bags.
The musicians have their bag pipes out to play a cheerful dirge.
And I'm waiting for my bridegroom from his boudoir to emerge.
The honored guests are seated in the front of the back row
And the flower girl is directing everybody where to go.
The preacher stands beside me as I search the smoke filled room
For a candidate who's better than is my intended groom.
You know I love you more than all the pimples on my face,
As I claim you as my husband in your denim dress of lace.
Oxymoronica Contest by Kristen Bruni 13th p[lace
The Fairy Tale Wedding of Prince William and Sandra
Married life ahead
Future wonders and unknowns
To forever share
Enchanting was the view of bride and groom,
with bridesmaids, lovely in their pastel gowns
of varied colors, maid of honor, too;
ring bearer, flower girl, each six years old,
best man, four ushers in the wedding group.
So special were Marines in fine dress blues,
who stood and made a saber-arch for them
as they descended steps of their old church...
Newburgh, New York, in Nineteen-Fifty Eight.
Their wedding celebration was a feast
for family and many friends who came.
Good food and music made a happy time,
as they all danced and shared the joyous day.
They cut the cake with a Marine Corps sword,
a cake, three layers, each on pillars graced
with pretty swans and cherubs placed around...
then gently fed each other one small piece,
and came together with a sweetened kiss.
That evening, they began their journey 'home',
nine-hundred miles away to the Corps base,
to start a brand new life...husband and wife.
At only age eighteen, how brave she was
to leave her family and friends behind.
But love provides a courage unforeseen
with needs to be beside the one you love...
June, Nineteen Fifty-Eight...and still today...
wed sixty years, this June, Twenty-Eighteen.
Sandra M. Haight
~1st Place~
Contest: Fairy Tale Wedding ~ Revised
Sponsor: Alexis Y
Judged: 10/08/2018
~2nd Place~
Contest: My Wedding Was Special Because...
Sponsor: Olive Eloisa Guillermo
Judged: 07/31/2016
People ask why does she wear white? She's a bride.
A bride in a lovely white dress.
Do you not see her bouquet of flowers in her hands?
Flowers all gathered in a bunch.
A bouquet of beautiful flowers for a bride.
Lovely flowers for a beautiful bride.
She sees her beloved fiance standing at the other end of the isle.
The priest stands in the center of the groom to be
The groom awaits for his beautiful fiance right next to his best man.
He waits for her patiently so the ceremony can finally begin.
She walked behind her flower girl who tosses flowers towards the ground.
A bride walks down the isle beside her father.
She smiles at her guest as she walks by holding her father's arm firmly.
As she stands next to her groom to be and smiles
The ceremony finally begins as the priest speaks
The two listen while the priest speaks
The priest finally says will the two of you please say your vows.
The bride and groom exchange vows.
Rings are also exchanged between the Groom and bride.
The best man and Maid of honor place a lace over the two
A lace represents eternal unity.
The priest finally says to the groom
You may now kiss the bride.
The groom gently lifts a section of the bride's veil which covers her face
Places it back to give her a kiss.
The two share that moment along with every guest and loved ones
When the wedding ceremony is over.
The bride and groom leave out of the wedding chapel they wait for the guest outside
At last here comes the bride and groom
Everyone cherish with joy towards the happy newly weds.
The newly weds share another kiss.
This is a wedding ceremonial