She hadn't received a violet grape purple envelope,
As the invited guests had done. It was more than she could hope.
Each guest had known for ages to expect the guilt edge invitation.
The bedraggled woman knew this wedding was way above her station.
She stood in the foyer of the church, through the window to the aisle.
Her threadbare clothes hung around her form in denial.
She watched him take her arm, as they approached the groom.
A hush was heard as the organ played in the room.
How stunning the bridesmaids, four beautiful girls,
The bride exquisite, her delicate lace gown studded with pearls.
The crowd were obviously all well to do,
Men in Versace suits, women clad in Chanel and Dior too.
She listened as they said their vows and swore to be true.
She smiled as he proclaimed to his bride “I love you”.
Marriage complete, they would all soon walk out to the street.
It was time for the haggard woman to make a hasty retreat.
He glanced at her but didn’t raise an eyebrow.
She would never be recognized the way she looked now.
It was so long since she had cried, she shed just one tear.
Her dear daughter would never know that her mother was here.
Why can't I ever find happiness
Is that too much for me to ask
Happiness seems to elude me
It's in depression where I bask
I believe my emotions all left
There is nothing that I can feel
I'm stuck with this numbness
With it I'm trying to learn to deal
Why am I forced to live this way
With a life that's well below par
With each day that passes me by
My heart gains another scar
Why is it for me any happiness
It's always just out of my reach
Depression built a wall around me
That happiness is unable to breach
Someone tell me what I'm to do
With this waste of a life that I live
I've tried everything known to man
I have nothing else im able to give
I'm so tired of searching for answers
There's none available that I see
I truly believe I'd be more well to do
If I were to end it and no longer be
I'm too tired to keep on fighting
The same drawn out fight
With my life is finally over
It will be my life's only Delight
has he got
the balls
to juggle?
doesn’t he
have
balloons?
only a knife
and a photo
of his mother
not meeting
their gaze
only walking by,
fixed eyes on
the horizon
he walks down the block party
where mothers
hold children in fear
and Dennis is in a trance
dancing toward
the uncertain nothing to leave
toward another town
start anew
parties in high rise apartments
of fashionably well-to-do
with a mason jar of beetles
and a guitar with one string
the toast of
Bean Town
or Broadway
the life of
the pity party
the talk of
small town U.S.A.
“Your mother’s love, the silent devotion ,the never heard prayers, the unseen care.” ~~ Shobhna Kanwar~~
She stood in the foyer of the church, through the window to the aisle.
Her threadbare clothes hung around her form in denial.
She watched him take her arm, as they approached the groom.
A hush was heard as the organ played in the room.
How stunning the bridesmaids, four beautiful girls,
The bride exquisite, her delicate lace gown studded with pearls.
The crowd were obviously all well to do,
Men in Versace suits, women clad in Channel and Dior too.
She listened as they said their vows and swore to be true.
She smiled as he proclaimed to his bride “I love you”.
Marriage complete, they would all soon walk out to the street.
It was time for the hagged woman to make a hasty retreat.
He glanced at her but didn’t raise an eyebrow.
She would never be recognized the way she looked now.
It was so long since she had cried, she shed just one tear.
Her dear daughter would never know that her mother was here.
I didn't know what to do when I left school,
But I thought I would become a plumber, wouldn't that be cool.
Most of the work is inside I thought,
But I should have looked closer, I really ought.
People always think a plumber earns a lot and will be well to do,
Most plumbers are not rich, but they deserve it when they have their hand stuck in the loo.
Most plumbing work is at floor level or even below,
And the aches and pains get stronger as the years just go.
To some people we are just heroes as we stop a torrential leak,
But then we are the bad men when a leak comes back next week.
We are all known for driving white vans, but mine is actually blue,
I never tell anyone I am a plumber because everyone will have a job that they want you to do.
Did you know you can make water run uphill,
So I guess I am proud to be a plumber, but I am happier still is when a happy customer finally pays their bill.
"it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God" Luke 18:25
How rich must I be to give all that I can?
To help ease the suffering of my fellow man.
Those that are homeless & constantly hungry.
To give all that I can , how rich must I be?
Always food on my table, what I call quite well to do.
The woman on the street for her next meal not a clue.
I know I should give as much as I am possibly able.
What I call well to do, always food on MY table.
Maybe tomorrow, I will see if there is anything I can give.
Or maybe someone richer than I will offer help for them to live.
I don’t actually have enough to do much to ease their sorrow.
I will see if there is anything I can give, maybe tomorrow.
As I cling to what matters, fare thee well,
spoken as I drown in the hereafter;
and I’ll see you on the flip side of hell.
Tickets for this dreamy ship sought after…
By sea, everything for the well-to-do.
Well! Well! This slippery slope is for all.
Vanderbilt, no more riches to pursue!
As the ship breaks apart, there is no wall.
Behold clatter of titanic dishes.
The fanciest food on fire - rich, I say.
Brandy warms the throat like lifeboat wishes.
Go, I, into the freeze to pass away.
Palpable stars, they sting my open eyes.
I hate the dark, the screams of night, the saved.
No motherly lullaby of bye-byes.
Contrast the pier when Southampton waved.
Feeling like a lost soul I sit, as the train rocks me to and fro
the woman next to me is jovial and pleasant, with a glow
We chat and pass the hours sharing amicably without restraint
then she tells me she is heading for London to marry, oh how quaint
Perhaps your marriage will be blessed from heaven? this I say
as the gentlemen across from me smiles, cool as the month of May
I can see from his polished shoes and his gray fedora hat
that he's a man of well to do, much accustomed to small pratt
Later in the evening as I sip my tea with clotted cream
I notice how he stares at me, as if I were a dream
Feeling lonely and quiet daring I invite him to sit down
it is then that I do notice, that his eyes are chestnut brown
"Going to London to visit my grandma" I say, "she lives by the sea"
"I can escort you Mademoiselle," he says, then tips his hat at me.
Chose # 3 a passenger on a train
One causal cadence continues casting,
Crawling, creeping, conniving, grasping,
Graven, rotten, rude, deprived,
Hatred, boiling, bursting, sly.
This cadence is personified, the cause
Is what leads men to die, the lack (it’s called)
Is like a lie, Augustine wrote while ‘twas
Close. Yet, and by grace yet, a slain Man’s cry
To the Father makes men to fly, the Dove so free
Chose each to be here personified anew.
The wise can read, they sure can count, and well to do,
And yet their days seem long as pouting from a babe.
One to death and one to save.
He (not Him) knows what men do and like to hear and can
Construe. Watch keenly, for his unseemly breeding takes
A chord and deprives it of color, this is his crown, and makes
To the wise the young seem older, and have wit of a frown.
Again, the wise know much if wise they’re true.
Wisdom and knowledge are
Not a synonym to surmise just as eagles to food.
The enemy travels wide and far.
Composer Edward Grieg
was well-to-do indeed
Many love his Peer Gynt suite
to give themselves a treat
Artist Mary Cassat so ' Henry James'
helped collectors with their acquisitic games
With meaningful moments of the 'well-to-do'
in attractive pics cropped&true
If you lean slightly left
while facing the sewage plant
then that view of Ohio
could be back in the 18th century,
there's even a long cabin
resurrected from somewhere else
and replanted here.
The Wright Brothers palatial home
is now maintained by the State,
the 'flyer' hangs in a museum
built upon an old Shawnee village.
The 'hood' nearby
litters itself and craps on the once
well-to-do houses;
it's enough to make an old Indian cry.
Time meanders around
an invisible clock face,
even the future
has one ox-cart wheel
stuck a rut,
while the other spins slowly on.
the combination of bought a realistic
view to what was going on.
one slip of the tougne one slip of the tonungue
would bring two opposing side together
one said in union it would recreate how
the structure of collabaration would
be defined as.
Lowbouis stand in el quesabras
while well to do fellas
sleep in mansions on hills
watch out for the rain El Quesabra
please stand by
there is a hurricane ah coming.
even the flute player realised how
horribale such conditions were
just even amagining being
spared or the oblivane
which await you.
Cry while onions ripened
season your meat
not to be gamey.
when the weather tames me.
who's to care!
In the meadow, I sing so loud
I heart well to do the same in the sunny valley
Night freezes on my resting soul as do cloud
Morning pisses on my hasting arms like bees honey
Faith sets my legs on the rail of challenges
Hoping would have been helpful
But hustling isn't a sponge
Yet through contention, each day becomes beautiful
Come sun, come chance even in the rain
Makes room for my reign, not only for the gain
Thanks to you o God almighty my father
For keeping me strong in every weather
© 2020
® Olábòsóyè Wèmímó Oláolúwá
*Image of Mom Playing at the Church by Family Photo
Pride of Place
Our matriarch, a great musician of sorts,
The piano, her centerpiece, she supports,
Coaching youthful kids even kids in shorts,
Performing at nights at resplendent resorts.
~0~ ~0~ ~0~
She taught the well-to-do to fund her trade,
Still, the piano, the cornerstone she made,
Training those destitute who hadn't paid,
My mom's piano she loved and played.
2022 January 29
*2nd Place*
Pride of Place
~~Julia Ward: Judged 2022 February 09
*Mom was a truly talented virtuoso on a guitar/rivaled Spanish strummers, ukelele and cello, drums, trumpet, flute, horn, tambourine, organ, and YES piano ... to name a few and composer of thousands of compositions.
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