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Bus Poet Stop May 2015

a woman, weeping,
at her own wedding dinner,
copiously, bleating sobs,
unsignaled, unprovoked, inexplicable.

misunderstanding guests,
shifting their weight
from foot to foot,
searching for a combo-pose of
of joyous discomfort.

all is well, say the wedding singers,
hymns of wedding songs they perform,
encouraging the standers-about
to dance,
all whom are inconsolably confused about
the wed woman's recognition of a
moment's milestone marker
which distinguishes, her totality,
feeling the differential between
the miles ahead,
the miles already passed,
but cannot answer
the singular considerable consideration question,
is this mine, the right road
and am I
who I am supposed to be,
or the supposition of others

which is why bride weeps at her wedding


a sober, industrious, quiet man
of many middle years,
seen sway dancing on the lawn
at 6:00 AM,
to sounds unheard,
was it music, voices,
a breaking point,
the birth of madness?

we, who watched from within,
behind a safe boundary
of glass and stucco and timber,
jealously considering alternate theories
of creation of the universe,
dual roles,
observing guests and voyeurs,
prayed for ourselves,
desirous of his wishes granted,
swayed with him,
in flagrante delicto,
co-conspirators unseen,
but jailed,
behind protective walls of
glass and stucco and timber,
sotto voce confessing priest-worthy sins
while protesting their innocent knowledge
of a man's delightful craziness,
a distraction from
weeping brides


the parents posts to Facebook
pictures of children,
warily unaware that their favoritism
is slip showing

oh they favor the youngest son,
beautiful Joseph with many colored coats,
possessing the practiced cuteness
and skillfully employ how to manipulate it sweetly
on suspecting adults

the  eldest daughter,
is the child made over
into a physical representation,
a manifestation of themselves preserved
as parents are wont to do
just because
they can
the swayer wedding guest
pray~dances to the tune of:

give over, her to me, to me,
to replant her unsuspecting
in garden wild,
feed her colors of her as yet unthought of,
foresee her aching beauty,
teach her freedom dancing by the sea,
weeping at her weeping
at her wedding
simpatico with her,
confusion and joy and fear

which is why the man sway dances
on the lawn at 6:00 am and weeps
copious bereft and joyous,
at the possibilities of conquering life
and foresees
the child wedding weeping
and weeps in anticipatory empathy sympathy
at their cojoined
kinship fate

Carlo C Gomez May 22
I remember when I first saw you
in such a state,
shifting with the direction of light,
viola shaped,
the boudoir door slightly ajar.

Rings exchanged,
veil removed,
the bells had chimed for us,
and then for
ships in safe harbor.

The pitter patter of
surf cascading in
from an open window,
otherwise hushed,
turnt and *****,
dimples showing
whether you smiled or not.

Turnabout was fair play
--azure hues in moonlit pastel
caressing the folds and ties
around midnight’s chemise
--the lure of velveteen
and vast soft canvas of pearl
--areolae circles and quaint triangles
in the thick of things,
gift-wrapped in elegant fur.

Belle-chose, under
the waxing, waning crescent
of dainty omphalos, yawning in chiaroscuro,
red-faced and piqued,
quite shy coming out of the shadows.

The batting of lashes,
the lingering scent of bouquet
--like the seduction of flute song,
I followed and followed
until thoroughly lost within you.
Michelle May 11
I collect you words
Like the flower petals that fall
From the bride's hair.
O eternal circle
Hovering around the fourth finger
I only wanted to feel you
As you dissapeared.
Sometime, I feel like my heart is glass. Like it shattered many years ago, and I just cannot help myself but to run my fingers against all of the sharp edges. Why does it feel so good to bleed?
Karijinbba May 10
Dearest True love
I am the woman
who loves you the most
in this whole world
I am thinking of you
and can't help
but realize
you sure are like wine

I am drinking wine in Hollywood
all alone and bathing in it
since you aren't here
to spill it on me and me on you
I have drank half
and then I made a bathtub
and added half to the bubbles
I love you forever
Thanks for the huge buquet of roses
red and roses white
I pain so sorry for my lilys

Mothers day 199..
roses whites and reds
your grand Hilton's antorage entrance
the shampagne waiting there
  two cups full for two
I see my old letter you kept hidden
in a safety deposit box up above
your magestic lovely love roses

that view is healing magic
it will last an eternity
I miss you love you
mourn US deeply
I am
with you in spirit your home
in your world
every May 10th Mothers Day
still speachless
bad people made sure i had no idea what second chances meant

DARLING It's been
I first met you

46 long years, 0 months
0 days, 15 hours
27 minutes, 11 seconds.
Its been this long since
we planted our garden
45 years, 10 months 15 days,
15 hours, 2 minutes 19 seconds
Hiltons upside down kiss
I didn't know I was ill and dying
I needed you
I didn't know I could earn
your love trust and heart
I've mourned deep within in silence
for us a lifetime now
nothing I did helped to forget you

the life that grabbed me
in your absence
tortured me, abandoned me
to virus my heart of gold and all

but the memory
of your precious love
elates me upholds me
thank you for loving me
once upon a time
and on Mothers Day
yes we never say good bye
By: Karijinbba
Thank you for the rooms filled with roses
in memory of RDD/BBA
1974-to present
At this point, I don’t want anything from him but his mind. He’s an open book of actualities. He does what he speaks and his actions are always louder than his words. He knows how to love me without changing me for his own good. He does not leave me hanging when I need him the most. He pops up at the right time every time and always seems to know what to say or do. He motivates me. He makes my life better by just being in it. He can be next to me and I still wish he was even closer. I could marry him today and not regret the moment. I loved him after three months of knowing him because I could finally see the wedding bells, the babies, and our happiness growing and flourishing. I can still see that now. I wouldn’t change my past, because God built me up for a good man like him. We’ve both been through Hell and back. Broken. Abused. Used. Sneaky. Yet here we are - smiling like our pasts didn’t mess us over. That’s why I love him because he saw through my facade of strength and goofiness and saw himself. I couldn’t see God or feel Him until I had help from him. But now, this sweet breeze of joy and love is coming in at waves and I’m crying daily. I’m crying because I’m finally free of my pity party and hopelessness. All I needed was help. And God sent that through him,” I smile. “I’m both grateful and blessed to know that I can be loved and can give out love."
Tangerine May 4
𝒹𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓂𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝑜𝒻 𝒹𝓇𝒶𝑔𝑜𝓃𝓈
𝒷𝓇𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓅𝑜𝓌𝑒𝓇𝒻𝓊𝓁 𝓀𝓃𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉
𝒻𝒾𝑒𝓇𝓎 𝓅𝒶𝓈𝓈𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒸𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒶𝓁 𝒹𝑒𝓁𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉𝓈
𝒶 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝓀𝒾𝓈𝓈 𝒶𝓌𝒶𝒾𝓉𝓈 𝓎𝑜𝓊
𝑜𝓃 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓌𝑒𝒹𝒹𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓃𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉
A mother's love
Can take many forms:

It can be the water
So blue
Cooling you, on a hot day.

It can be the little green five
You "randomly" find
in your pocket.

It could even be the "luck"
Of catching the soft white bundle
At a wedding.

A mother's love
Can be lifetimes long...
My dearest wife,
    no matter
how cruel the world is,
we don't break over weak words
    and lose our sanity
over uneducated fools

For my vow is strong
     and my words are true
the sky may fall
   but atleast I have you.

For I love you,
in every parts you adore and hate.
I have found myself a woman so priceless
that in every richness
the world has,
no dime can outshine you

  and no other woman
can have my heart
    Because it will always be you
Sarah Pavlak Apr 14
A Nigerian told me I need to have more ***,
Tap tap wedding ring on a
Plastic dashboard.

Sir, it breaks my heart
That I had to leave him to his nightmares
Yes ma’am, that’s how you fall asleep--

If I’d have known -- well hindsight is,
That it was the last time I would’ve
Let it take you down easy--
Hansel Apr 9
i was in my mother's womb
when i first attended a wedding

the second time, i was a flower girl
but before the reception i tossed
all of the petals on myself like a curtain
so my father had to sneak off
and pluck from the church garden

being different amidst murmuring lips
i passed and white roses on the floor
were joined by orange tulips

the third time, i don't quite remember
except that i tiptoed so hard in years
to witness the bride being kissed
while seeing my mother in wistful tears

recently, it's with my grandma
and i knew no one else
they said "my sister and i" were close
to the bride when we're younger
but they probably just inserted "i"
afterall, i attended in place of her

yet, during the processional
when all faces were unfamiliar:
bridesmaids, groomsmen, ring bearer
and bride with her mystic entrance,
i sobbed like a proud fairy godmother

why was i crying
did i miss being an innocent flower girl
was i envious of the people
blessing the soon happy family
did my eyes thought there'd be no better setting
to cry out all the pain than its unfamiliarity

is it because i feared that when mine comes
my family won't be there to bless,
witness me kissed by the groom
or if i would even last to the day
where i'll find myself a groom

who knows, maybe it's because
i can't wait for the ending
to grieve more in regret of when
i first attended a wedding
congrats to my very-far-in-bloodline relative, whose wedding unknowingly made me cry so bad
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