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Mae Jul 2017
And to you, my child
Don't underestimate the power of love
Don't underestimate the strength of friendship
Son.
I am not made of stone.
But I can be the rock you lean on
When the world has beaten you to the core
I am small in size, son
But when the world decides that you no longer need to be seen
I will carry you on my shoulders
Longer than those nine months

Son.

I was raised by a hard man.
But a man that honoured family
A grandfather, for you, that'll share tall tales of his brothers
Son, your grandfather may be small in size
But he is a force not to be reckoned with
He'll show you ways of life
That belong solely to the male species
Ways that I might never even understand

I want you to listen more
I want you to know that when the streets have been too loud for your fragile ears
That mama, will replace gunshots with lullabies
Scars with kisses
Bruises with hugs

But most of all.
Hatred for self-love
Mae Jul 2017
And to you, my child
I cannot promise you the world
Nor a string of jewels to wear on your neck or even money
But I can offer you my love
A love so great with the magnitude of black holes
Not just the cool ones in your science books
But the ones that swallow entire planetary systems and clusters of stars
I can't promise you much, baby girl
But I can promise you that you'll never ask yourself if someone loves you
You'll never wonder if there's a point to life
You'll never doubt your worth

Baby girl.

I was raised by a hard man
But a hard man who loved women
A hard man who loved his women
His wife. His mother. His sisters and his daughters.
I was raised by a man that taught me to stand tall not like her father
But like the woman she would become
I was raised by a man that taught me to reason. To think. To question authority if need be.

Go out into the world, baby girl, and live.
Be who you are even when that's not enough for your crush next door.
Because at the end of the day,
The Sun will set
And the Moon will rise
Robert Jul 2017
I have been...
on more funerals than weddings...
Walking alive on the ground of a cemetery
is an odd feeling,
considering that under the same ground
lie the people who past away.
I get a cold shower,
every time I'm visiting my ancestors
by this dead silence.
But I'm aware
we have a reason to build these spaces:
To honour and remember the dead people.

I wondered about another kind of cemetery:
a graveyard of ideas...
To honour the ones
that didn't make it.
Imagine we walked alive on that ground,
in dead silence,
and could read
what the gravestones of the ideas say.
We would pretty much see
the same all over again.
"Killed by words of ridicule",
"He has been told it's impossible",
"The last words she heard were 'You cannot do THAT' ".
Or murdered by the undertakers' champion: Doubts.
A lot of ideas died straight after birth
or before their reached the puberty.

I wondered ...
how this world would look like
if we weren't so barbarian-brutal.
And instead foster the ideas
like gardeners their plants.
So that we can have
more weddings of ideas than funerals
and create a space
where ideas ... have babies.
RKM Jul 2017
You had sand in your hair,
freckles under your eyes
where the sun kissed your face
as I would have liked
I watched your hands as you drove
watched them turn the wheel
not knowing how in seven years
those hands would make me feel.
That they'd be bound by gold
and a solemn vow
to love, to hold, through any how
and that, by then,
our plans would be
entwined together, endlessly.
That we'd have seen the sun
from each hemisphere
balanced on the equator
lived out of a backpack for a year -
that you'd become my home
with your arms as the doors
your eyes as the windows
your feet as the floors.
That we'd bloom together
throughout those years
explore with each-other
our deepest fears.
That one day we'd stand
with our dearest of friends
and make a promise to
make-do and mend -
to patch up our souls
even when we find winter
might creep in and freeze up
and love might seem splintered,
that we'll wait for the spring
and that when the frost thaws
our stream will flow free again
fresher than before.
For now your heart lives within me
I'm keeping it safe
I'll cover it with feathers
of love and of grace.
Those hands that once turned
the wheel of that car
will now hold me through life
on this road that is ours.
A poem for my wedding day.
Priyanshi Dass Jun 2017
My child, with gentle footsteps you walk
While cruelly ticks away the mocking clock
With a heavy heart, I hide behind the cloak of courage
My child you were once, now headed for marriage

Darling, I remember when I first held you in my arms
With naive pride, I promised I will protect you from all harms
O little angel of mine, there’s a part of me that wishes I could ask you to stay
And go back to the wonderful days, when marriage for you was a doll’s play

This boy you brought home, he asks me for your hand
Says I love her, sir, I hope you would understand
My sweetheart, I know you love him more than anything
But the desire to keep you close seems so beautifully tempting

The red sari suits you quite well, my dear
My little angel, you look so beautiful and pure
My darling child, much too young to depart
The home and love of this father’s poor heart

Standing here, with my eyes helplessly filled
Oh, how I wish I could have this moment stilled
I watch as with a pinch of red vermilion he marks you as his
And I smile as I watch your face glowing with pure bliss
Happy Father's Day
Jacob Jun 2017
I don't have much time to go
But before I have to let you go
To part as friends as I failed to let my feelings show
I ask myself, how could so many chances I forego
And when was the moment to feel just right to let you know?
That those times we spent together is all that I can think about
It's so hard to believe from this day on, we'll be apart
I guess it was all my fault, though
Thinking there would still be tomorrow
But is it too late to tell you what I feel?
Please think things through as you walk down the aisle
When the music ends you'll be with him,
As you both pledge your whole lives to each other
I can't bear to watch his kiss seal your union,
Knowing how things could've been instead

And though we were not alone,
I thought then our love had grown
So how could I've been so wrong?
And have that man part us both?
As he made his move, my mind foresaw,
The day would come when I can't help but let you go
I handled you with care as though you were already mine
Somehow, he took away what mattered most to me, with but a line
For his bravado, you fell and now we're here, so
I just can't help the way that I feel
That we're the ones meant to exchange those vows
Or so I thought

If you can toss that bouquet like the love I thought we had,
I'll bother you no more then wish you both well and go
It may take long
But I will try to get you out of what's left of my heart
If only you can hear what my heart says
We'd be the ones meant to exchange those vows
Now, I guess there's nothing more I can do
But bury all these thoughts in my head
You look more than beautiful as the day I've first laid my eyes on you, wearing that wedding dress.
Clive Blake Jun 2017
Picked from the garden of life,
As unique as any flower,
As beautiful as a rainbow,
Trapped in an April shower.

Like a blossom pressed and dried,
Its colour fading never,
I have pressed you
Between the pages of my life,
Where I hope you will stay forever.
A love poem that could be used in a wedding ceremony.
Star BG Jun 2017
With cuff in sleeve the suit is complete,
setting moment for handsome to take center stage.
His fancy form steps in view,
of a pretty one dressed in glamor
looking for future bow.

A smile ensues and magic
tickles behind eyes,
inside dreams,
within a hello whisper.

Dancing steps bring forms together
as phases attached to laughter opening hearts.

Much in common is found while talk continues
under a full moons presence.

Cupped hands begin to gravitate in moments
as night progresses inside celebration energies.

Good food, and great
conversations builds for
a night kiss to find two lips
that seals their fate.

The rest is history,
as next year their turn is taken to tie knot.
To become another marriage statistic
of love birds who fly coop.
Fly in harmony
as wedding field makes way for others to meet.

StarBG © 2017
first poem of the day for one called Star Blossom
Francie Lynch Jun 2017
Maggie's getting married,
All is much too harried;
But the dress is on,
The veil undrawn
Untill all words are spoken:
A vow, a pledge a promise made
To love and cherish all her days,
To love and cherish all his days,
From these chiming bells
To eternity's knells
Before friends and families.
But most importantly,
After the debris is clear,
To one another they will be
Loyal and true in fidelity,
And, by their own decree,
One in matrimony.
Middle daughter on June 16th.
Lost May 2017
You have me
and I have you.

You love me
and I love you.

You treasure me
and I treasure you.

You adore me
and I adore you.

You want me
and I want you.

You need me
and I need you.

You're my everything
and I am yours.

I Will Always Be With You
through thick and thin
through life and love
through the ups and downs
through the pain and the suffering
through sickness and health
I Will Always Be With You
kinda wrote my wedding vows thinking about our promise rings and what they mean to us
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