Being asked to be in a bridal party is a huge honor and one that you probably don’t want to have to turn down because you can’t afford it.

“I’ve been in two weddings and have attended seven. When you’re asked to be part of a wedding, you just think about that one day, but you don’t really take into consideration the engagement party or the bridal shower, and the bachelorette party,” NerdWallet’s Jessica Lindquist says. “I split the hotel with some of the other bridesmaids, so that was one way I was able to cut down on costs so I could attend all of those events.”

Here are five ways you, too, can accept a bridal party invitation without having to stress out over the cost.

1. Trim expenses on your hair, makeup, nails and outfit if you’re asked to be a bridesmaid. Check whether anyone you know is skilled with hair or makeup and if so, ask him or her to do it for you. Another option is to have a professional do either your hair or makeup and do the other one yourself. Also, skip the pricey mani and pedis — DIY them!

For your bridesmaid dress, offer to assist the bride in picking one she likes but that is also affordable for you. Help the bride put together a style board beforehand so you’ll know her tastes and can do some of the research ahead of time. Plan bridal dress shopping days around upcoming sales for major retailers, so you’ll have more affordable options to choose from.

Once you’ve bought the bridesmaid dress, bring it to a trusted tailor who won’t overcharge you for alterations. Chances are you won’t be wearing it much after the wedding, so don’t splurge on getting it fitted at the dress shop.

If you’re going to be a groomsman, save money on your clothing by wearing a suit you already own — or if you must don black tie, search for a good price on renting a tux.

2. Get involved with the bachelorette or bachelor party planning so you can have a say in how much it ends up costing. You might think this is aggressive, but Gail Blachly, another Nerd, says addressing expenses head-on can be beneficial.

“Have those open discussions with the bride or the groom to say, ‘How much do you think I need to set aside?’ Because they’re open to having those discussions, too,” she says. “They’re in the process, they’re making their own budgets; they understand that it’s a need-to-know fact.”

3. Make a gift plan. If you feel comfortable splitting bridal shower or bachelorette/bachelor party presents with the rest of the wedding party, do so. If not, aim to spend 20% of your gift budget on the shower, 20% on the bachelorette/bachelor and 60% on the wedding.

4. Use your credit card rewards or loyalty program points to help cover travel and lodging costs. Since it can take some time to earn enough points, start saving as soon as possible.

5. Set a savings goal and work to meet it. As soon as you agree to be in the bridal party, talk with the bride or groom to estimate how much it’ll cost you and use that as your savings goal.

You might think you can’t afford to be a bridesmaid or groomsman, but don’t say no right away. With a little planning and resourcefulness, you can afford more than you realize. The next time you’re asked to join a bridal party, follow these suggestions so the experience leaves you with fond memories and sound finances.

read more:www.marieaustralia.com/bridesmaid-dresses

www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses

Forty Days

A Season of Grief, a Season of Rejoicing

November 9-December 20, 2014

For Barbara Beach Alter 
It is Christmas morning in Saco, Maine, where today Bett, Aaron, Emily, Thomasin and our beloved cousin Marie find ourselves gathered to celebrate our first Christmas without dadima (our name for Barbara Beach Alter).  Brother Tom writes that already in India he and Carol with Jamie, Meha and Cayden (the only of her seven greatgrandchildren Barry never held) have celebrated.  Today Marty and Lincoln join us in Maine.

This gathering of documents—notes, drafts of memorial services, poems, homilies—is my christmas present to each of you.  It is a record, certainly subjective, of grief and rejoicing.

John Copley Alter
1:14 a.m.
Saco, Maine 
November 9

Loved ones,
Barbara Beach Alter died peacefully at 2:55 Sunday morning (today).  Bett and I had the good fortune to be there for the final beating of her good strong heart.  She murmured charcoal.  The nurse who was bathing her afterwards noted how few wrinkles there were, and it is true.
For those of you nearby you may if you want visit Mom in her room at hospice this morning (until noon).  Visit? Darshan? Paying respects?
Bett and I plan to be there around 11:00.
Much love to all. A blessed occasion.
John

 
November 10

Matthew 5:13-19
Jesus said, "You are the salt of the earth; but if salt has lost its taste, how can its saltiness be restored? It is no longer good for anything, but is thrown out and trampled under foot.
"You are the light of the world. A city built on a hill cannot be hid. No one after lighting a lamp puts it under the bushel basket, but on the lampstand, and it gives light to all in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven.
"Do not think that I have come to abolish the law or the prophets; I have come not to abolish but to fulfill. For truly I tell you, until heaven and earth pass away, not one letter, not one stroke of a letter, will pass from the law until all is accomplished. Therefore, whoever breaks one of the least of these commandments, and teaches others to do the same, will be called least in the kingdom of heaven; but whoever does them and teaches them will be called great in the kingdom of heaven."

yesterday in the early hours my mother died her saltiness
restored all that had through the months of her old
age and convalescence obscured the lens of her life cleaned
away so that for us now more and more clearly
as we hear about her through the memory and love
of so many people her good works shine forth in
their glory but it is to the days of her
convalescence the days of her dementia I would turn our
minds those of us who spent time with her at
Wingate long-term care facility remember that Barbara Beach Alter became
at times fierce in her commanding us that ‘not one
letter, not one stroke of a letter’ of the commandments
should be altered do you remember that those of you
and us who were given the work and gift of
spending time with Barry in those days in that condition

remember for instance how fussy she became about the sequence
of food on her tray how impatient with us for
our trespasses and violations how adamant that we look forward
for instance and not back at her how she would
say stop holding my hand and saying you love me
you have work to do o she was almost impossible
and certainly incoherent and demented in her obsession with law
and procedure fussy impatient imperious I do not forget being
scolded reamed out put in my place for having somehow
failed to do what the ‘law and the prophets’ demand

Barbara beach alter in the days before hospice in the
nursing home and hospital and even if we are honest
in the final years of her life found herself caught
up in the rigidity of her anxious desire to be
faithful to the laws and commandments of her life and
that made her at times extremely demanding to be with

amen and the epistemological confusion of course the clash between
her reality and ours it was all an ordeal for
her and for those of us who kept her company

and yet and yet through it all and now as
that ordeal for her is no longer paramount as she
dances in heaven all the wrinkles and discomfort of her
life removed and forgiven Barbara Beach Alter kept the faith
living in the midst such that those who cared for
her most intimately the strangers all professed your mother blessed
us


Blessed are they which do hunger and thirst after righteousness: for they shall be filled.
7 Blessed are the merciful: for they shall obtain mercy.
8 Blessed are the pure in heart: for they shall see God.
9 Blessed are the peacemakers: for they shall be called the children of God.
10 Blessed are they which are persecuted for righteousness' sake: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
11 Blessed are ye, when men shall revile you, and persecute you, and shall say all manner of evil against you falsely, for my sake.
12 Rejoice, and be exceeding glad: for great is your reward in heaven: for so persecuted they the prophets which were before you.



So, brother and sister, here are my thoughts about the memorial service(s).
Let’s find a time when we three can be present; that’s the most important thing.  My life is currently the least constrained by agenda and schedule.  And then the grandchildren, recognizing that Jamie may not be able to come.  So, our work is to find our when our kids are able to come. Bett and I are exploring that with our three, each of whom has some constraint: Emily, the cost; Thomasin, the piebaking demands, Aaron school.  But we are flexible.

Much love.

John



Walking in my mother’s wake today some trees
a gentle breeze some dogs a little boy
the neighborhood and I took joy from interaction

we are at best a fraction in love’s
calculation after all heaven I realize is not
above or below cannot be taught comes naturally

as death does walking in my mother’s wake
I found new allies learned yet again not
to take myself too seriously to be caught

off guard as a matter of principle and
not to insist that I understand but live
in the midst of forgiveness


in my mother’s wake I am reading these books for
some way to continue to knock on her door Wendell
Berry he can tell me some things and William Blake
he can take me closer and I remember she described
me once as an unused Jewish liberal so I am
reading about protestant liberalism but ham that I am also
reading Carl Hiassen’s Bad Monkey and Quo Vadimus that my
daughter left behind and mythologically Reflections from yale divinity school
no fooling Denise Levertov David Sobel Galway Kinnell’s translation of
Rilke some wake
 
November 11

Matthew 25:1-13
Jesus said, "Then the kingdom of heaven will be like this. Ten bridesmaids took their lamps and went to meet the bridegroom. Five of them were foolish, and five were wise. When the foolish took their lamps, they took no oil with them; but the wise took flasks of oil with their lamps. As the bridegroom was delayed, all of them became drowsy and slept. But at midnight there was a shout, 'Look! Here is the bridegroom! Come out to meet him.' Then all those bridesmaids got up and trimmed their lamps. The foolish said to the wise, 'Give us some of your oil, for our lamps are going out.' But the wise replied, 'No! there will not be enough for you and for us; you had better go to the dealers and buy some for yourselves.' And while they went to buy it, the bridegroom came, and those who were ready went with him into the wedding banquet; and the door was shut. Later the other bridesmaids came also, saying, 'Lord, lord, open to us.' But he replied, 'Truly I tell you, I do not know you.' Keep awake therefore, for you know neither the day nor the hour."

this morning in the wee hours my mother died one
of the wise bridesmaids whose lamp to the end was
full she carried always the flask of oil that is
joy that is the love of the kingdom of heaven
and of the bridegroom a flask always replenished by prayer
by devotion by a humble courageous living in the midst

she expected every day the bridegroom to come in other
words and she was also one who would never refuse
to share even the last drop with somebody in need

and at the end it is so clear the door
into the banquet hall was not closed to her as
it is not closed to any one of us foolishness
is to believe otherwise to believe that the bridegroom will
not come today in the early morning in the wee
hours that is when he comes in the midst of
other plans is when he comes even when we are
doing what we assume to be good work when we
are doing what gives us pleasure our duty joy comes
then unsummoned unpredictable random even according to all our best
laid plans my mother loved so many things her pleasure
included dancing late in her life terminally unsteady she invented
what we loved to urge her to do namely the
sitting jig and we grew up with images of her
Isadora Duncan dancing with white scarves in an enchanted forest

Barbara Beach Alter aka Barry aka dadima bari nani aunt
and daughter wife missionary is now I know dancing a
rollicking boisterous jig on the shores of a lake that
is as her grandson once confided to her god in
liquid form spilly Beach of course also dyslexic executive function
compromised she was but one who loved to be always
in the midst surrounded by loved ones some of them
absolute strangers she shared her oil because for her it
came welling up from an inexhaustible source a deep eternal
well of such illumination and laughter such giddy divine chuckles

for her there was to be no exclusion she would
not find the awful idea of being one of the
foolish applicable to anybody but happily she welcomed into her
midst so many it is hard to imagine how many

so there she is now a bridesmaid dancing for joy
in such elegant clothing with such perpetual brightness

amen hallelujah rejoice


sometimes I think she pulled us all out of the
magic hat sometimes I think she knit us all into
one of her theologically impossible sweaters and then with a
wink she passes through the eye of the needle and
is gone and we are left to play in her
honor endless hands of solitaire sometimes I think we are
no more than the hermeneutics of her life the epistemology
artless she was not her heart like one of those
magical meals for her then a doxology praise then praise
she knows salvation

what is a life’s work it is like a landscape
dotted with oases and gardens for the thirsty and the
lost it is like scraping through dry barren ground and
finding there suddenly not only the theology of paradise but
such seeds your hands ache to begin the planting what
is a life’s work what has been shut for too
long opens what has been shut for too long opens

a life’s work renews itself then with death the kernel
of hope that dies in springtime sprouting is what a
life’s work becomes
 
November 12

John 21:15-17
When they had finished breakfast, Jesus said to Simon Peter, "Simon son of John, do you love me more than these?" He said to him, "Yes, Lord; you know that I love you." Jesus said to him, "Feed my lambs." A second time he said to him, "Simon son of John, do you love me?" He said to him, "Yes, Lord; you know that I love you." Jesus said to him, "Tend my sheep." He said to him the third time, "Simon son of John, do you love me?" Peter felt hurt because he said to him the third time, "Do you love me?" And he said to him, "Lord, you know everything; you know that I love you." Jesus said to him, "Feed my sheep.

I know my mother very much enjoyed having breakfast with
god and that the meals of her nursing home drove
her nearly crazy and that when at last she found
hospice o she again could imagine the feast of heaven
at which Jesus breaks bread with us and speaks with
such clarity do you love me more than these I
know it was questions as simple and overwhelming as this
that dominated her final days do you love me love
being  one of the last five words she attempted to
speak do you love me she wrestled in her last
months with epistemology and psychology and theology and all had
to do with whether she could answer unequivocally you know
that I love you and that she could say of
her life that she had broken bread with god we
all remember in her life those moments when there was
a great gladness an innocent acceptance of what lay immediately
in her presence now those months in the nursing home
tormented her in precisely this fashion that it was hard
to accept to be in the midst of such mediocrity
and woe to be innocent and accepting but now praise
god there she is a happy guest at the great
feast and we left behind bereft can acknowledge that she
loved god in her own fashion as best she possibly
could and do you remember being with her there in
hospital or nursing home and she commanding us to move
beyond holding her hand and saying we loved her and
to feed the sheep to do that work which will
make of this earth this here and now an outstation
of heaven Barbara Beach Alter loved god in her own
fashion as best she possibly could we remember that and
that memory is today like a great network a web
of love and inspiration o we would gladly one more
time hold her hand and say I love you but
we know also clearly I think today what the work
is to love our neighbor as ourselves to work for
peace and justice I think of my sister with her
colleagues in WEIGO and how her sisters have understood her
grief  let us break our fast together then glad for
the worldwide web that in these days is reading the
gospel of the life of Barbara Beach Alter praise god


feed
tend
feed
in exchange for his three denials Peter is given three imperative verbs
feed
tend
feed
this is the commission Jesus after breakfast on the shore of the sea of Galilee gives to Peter
twice he says feed
in the commonwealth of Massachusetts 700,000 people are hungry
1 in 6 americans are hungry
living in uncertainty about their daily bread
more than 18,000,000 in Africa
842,000,000 around the world go to bed hungry


Marty and Tom
The thinking about the memorial service is taking this slow and cautious turn, namely that we have three services (at least), one in Sudbury, one in New Haven (allowing Stan and Chuck and others to come) at First Presbyterian (with Blair Moffett we hope), and of course one in India.
The date frame appears to be somewhere between December 17 and 20, unless you have other thoughts.
The actual cremation happens tomorrow.  Lincoln, Bett, Alexis and I will attend, and then of course there is In the Midst on Friday.
Love you more than tongue can tell.
John


the thing with a life well lived is that many
people have partaken the way let’s say a river moves
down through any number of different lives all the time
sedulously seeking the shortest path to the sea to steal
a line from somebody or other meandering a watershed within
which so many of us find a way to live
our own lives nourished and for each of us the
river distinct and different white water the slow fertile meander
the delta and we say to each other this is
the composite river


sometimes I feel like a sleepwalker trying to run a
marathon sometimes I feel like a speedbump in a blizzard

an arrow in a wind tunnel sometimes I feel like

a hazard sign in an old age home sometimes I
feel like a tyrannosaurus rex trying to ride a tricycle

and sometimes those are the good days when identity is
strong like an icicle in a heat wave is strong

I try to read wisdom literature at happy hour scotch
and Solomon can’t go wrong I think and sometimes I

feel like crying
 
November 13

four days ago we were left alone there with your
body after your breathing ceased and the proud stubborn beating
of your heart and in those four days beloved mother
so much I would love to say to you and
share the antics of the squirrel late leaves on the
neighborhood trees music Orion the network the atlas of love
your life has left behind and all the words we
are the gospel of today and I would sit with
you there then in silence as I sit now four
days later vigilant insomniac aware that the kingdom of heaven
is not more complicated than singing than love than dancing

we are all dancing the dance lord siva teaches and
the s

"Go on forth young graduates,

And show us who you are

You're now our future leaders

We know you will go far"

And so commencement ended

Pictures done and people changed

Now, off to private parties

All orderly pre-arranged

But four young girls stood waiting

Until they were alone

"Let's head out to the party

And tomorrow, we shall phone,

Each other and we'll organize

Our final tete a tete

We'll plan something so special

A thing we haven't thought of yet!"

So, they went their separate ways

And they thought of all the places

That would hold a fitting luncheon

For their girls group "The 4 Aces""

They all got home around half past five

And all slept till half ten

After breakfast, phones were ringing

As they planned to meet again.

They picked a little tea house

called "Flavored Leaves of Green"

They would meet for a tea party

They would really make the scene

A week today they chose to meet

To celebrate together

They'd meet for tea and cakes

Regardless of the weather

And one more time, they'd choose to wear

The prom dress from that year

Big frilly hats, and long white gloves

and all that froo froo gear

The day arrived and they showed up

All ready for their tea

The Aces all decked again

Their luncheon was at three

The girls all talked about their plans

Of school and summer work

Two would council campers

While the other two would clerk

They loved their day and played the part

Of ladies with no cares

They knew it was the only time

They'd dine here, to be fair.

The final act of these four friends

Before they left and packed

Was to sign a pledge between them all

You could say, a small pact

"In twenty years from this day forth

We'll meet again for tea

On July twenty seventh

Of the year Two thousand three"

The sheet was signed and on their way

They booked their reservation

The girls all hugged and said goodbye

To end their celebration

Now time went by as it always does

And each girl went a different way

But in twenty years, they all looked forth

To meet again that day

The firtst Ace, Jill, went on to school

And married while she studied

She lost track of her Aces friends

Their paths were slightly muddied

She went to school in Omaha

A vet she chose to be

Her marriage lasted fifteen years

And...well, children...she had three.

Andi, chose to work instead

She left town to chase rainbows

She knew that here, her *** of gold

Would be wherever she chose

She moved out to Chicago

Where she was a big success

She became a photo artist

With a Lakeshore Drive address

Cindy, well...dear Cindy

Married five times through the years

Each one was shorter than the last

And one....just fifteen beers

They chose to split the very night

They they chose to become one

He left with her head bridesmaid

And the catfight....it was fun

Cindy spent two nights in jail

For beating up her beau

And she really laid a beating,

In her words, "Upon that **"

Lucy, never did leave town

But she let on that she did

For at high school graduation

She was pregnant with her kid

Her boy was born at Christmas

She did not even tell his dad

He was off to find his fortune

And she sometimes wished she had

But, she made up tales to tell her son

Of who his father was

But, she never told the truth to him

And that was her son's loss

She worked around the village

Never really getting out

She did her best for her son Jamie

There never was a doubt

She loved this boy with all her heart

And so she chose to stay

She'd sacrifice her future

And she'd dream of "just what may"

have happened to her if she left

If he had not been born

But, to her, a life with out him

Made her feel sad, forlorn

Twenty years past by so fast

The Aces plans were set

Each one had hoped the other

Would not dare to forget

Allthough good friends in high school

They'd never kept in touch

They went different directions

Their new lives, well....were their crutch

Cindy was the first to show

So, she stayed outside to smoke

When a voice came from behind her

And she knew just who had spoke

Lucy, grabbed her arm

And then she hugged her really tight

At least two of the four Aces

had remembered, got it right

They went inside to grab a seat

And Jill came in behind

And over by the bar was where

Andi, they would find

They all dressed up and wore big hats

And prom dresses as a lark

And they sat and told their stories

Of their lives till after dark

They vowed that they would stay in touch

And that they would converse

They all agreed they'd talk this time

And nothing could be worse

Than twenty years of silence

Between friends like the Four Aces

Even though they lived such different lives

They missed each other's faces

Another pact was signed this night

But this one for five years

To meet again for tea and cakes

And they signed it through their tears

Cindy left to catch her flight

and Andi left as well

Then Jill got up and hugged Lucy

And then she bade farewell

This left Lucy all alone

At the table all alone

When a gentleman came over

And he sat down with a groan

"Your party was successful"

Lucy smiled at his words

He was the tea house owner

A collector of rare birds

She thanked him for the party

It was one she could not miss

And on her way out past him

She gave him a light kiss

For not only did the tea room

Belong to this kind man

He was also her employer

For, 'twas his kitchen that she ran

You see, now it's been twenty years

Since they went to lead their lives

Some becoming so successful

Some becoming moms and wives

But Lucy, never left this burg

She raised her son alone

And she'd worked at this small tea house

It was her second home

She did not have the money

To come in as a guest

But her boss, was a sweetheart

And he'd made this night the best

Tomorrow she'd be back at work

Making meals for those who came

To the "Flavored leaves of Green"

and she'd be Lucy, once again..
..

always the bridesmaid, never the bride
you have no idea how many times i cried
asking, "why me? why not me?"

well, for starters
i always oversleep
my eating habits are on repeat
i've worn the same clothes, same filth
for three days this week
i don't make an effort because i'm not going out
but no one asks me out because i don't make an effort
i write love poems i never send
i creepily covet people i consider friends
while my heart is stuck on the same old trend

hearts
yours and mine
your heart
pure and prone to breaking bones
my heart
crippled and casually crashing cars
the destruction duo
probably foreshadowing if i'm honest

i never get any rest
purple hues rise to the surface
furthermore, my life lacks any zest
and to top it all off
no matter how hard i've tried
i know i'll probably never be satisfied
so yeah
maybe that is why

Barney I didn't love purple tress
Shimmering metallic loud dress

Giant white clip silky hair bow
Cake top decor I shoulda said no

It was leftover 80’s -1993
The resentment set in quickly

My groom mate
Was difficult to take

For my affections he made a play
At my betrothed mans dismay

A crooked headed doll on display
Why did it have to be this way

Only redeeming thing was snaps
Of me looking right at my sweet

Going forward I said never again
No bridesmaid for family or friend

But Im glad she chose me for that
Big day with her Mister

She is after all
My big sister

WHEN Grace Gray uncovered her wedding dress from the back of the wardrobe, she knew exactly what to do with her something old – turn it into something new.

The doting gran gifted her much-loved satin gown to her daughter Michelle, so she could have it made into a christening robe for her baby Pippa.

And the beautiful wee girl was all smiles on her special day in her hand-me-down, upcycled gown.

Michelle, 32, said: “I always loved my mum’s wedding dress and never imagined it would become my daughter’s christening dress, but I’m so glad it did.

“For Pippa to be christened in such a special family dress made the day all the more amazing.”

Grace, 54, wore the pearl-encrusted ivory dress when she married husband William, 73, in Clydebank 18 years ago.

Michelle helped her mum to pick the dress and was a bridesmaid at the wedding.

She said: “I was quite young when my mum married my stepdad and I remember going shopping with her when she picked the dress.

“It had lots of pearls and diamantes and I just loved all the sparkle. She looked so beautiful.”

After her wedding, Grace packed away her dress in a box and kept it at the back of her wardrobe.

Michelle, who is looking forward to her own wedding to partner Frazer Ward, 29, next year, said: “It has been there ever since but she came across it when she was clearing out.

“It was her idea to have it turned into a christening dress for Pippa.”

The family took the dress to Fabricated Bridal Alterations in Glasgow, where the seamstresses made not only the christening dress but a head band for Pippa and a matching hair clip for her sister Tilly, four.

Michelle, who also lives in Clydebank, added: “I did feel a little bit anxious at the thought of mum’s

dress being cut up but the end result was so beautiful.

“Mum had a tear in her eye when she saw it.”

Grace said: “I can’t think of any better use of my wedding dress than seeing it given to my

granddaughter for her christening.

“I felt really honoured to share in her big day in such a special way. I was overwhelmed by how beautiful she looked.”

Andrina Greig, of Fabricated Bridal Alterations, said there was a rising trend for women to put their wedding dresses to good use.

She added: “We’ve had more and more women getting their wedding dresses made into a christening gown for their children – but this is the first time we have had a grandmother’s dress brought in to be made into a christening gown.

“Michelle’s mum’s dress was perfect for the transformation.

“It was in great condition and the beading, bow and button details were ideal for scaling down and keeping as a feature on the christening dress. We were thrilled with how beautiful Pippa’s gown looked.”

read more:www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses-adelaide

www.marieaustralia.com/red-carpet-celebrity-dresses

We are flighty creatures
Always narrowly escape love
Tip-toeing the tepid water of
Forever or not-at-all

Dancing the day-rentals of
Bridesmaid and groomsman
Always hastily tucks in
Always casually skirts out

Dig in and fly out
Flying away before digging in
Day dream the day dreams come true
Dream the day dream I will say to you:

All                                                        ­                               just
I                                                           ­         so                   you
want                                    I                    ­                          to
is                                  ­                                                       back
to                   can                                                              ­ fly
fall                                                         ­                             to
so                               ­                                                         time
dee­ply                                                              ­                  life
in                                        ­                                                a
love                                                            ­                         take
with                                                        ­                            will
you                             ­          that                                        It

My tears have long dried
my emotions were fried
I just wanted to hide
you shouldn't have lied
it's been months since I cried
three  years since you died
I was never your **bride

we are servants
yet expectant,
not yet ready
to give,
perpetually ready
to take.

this seems to be
the way of things
now.

what a shame.

the Buddha
and the bridesmaid;
we are both
at
the
same
time.

seeking peace,
conflicted,
never
satisfied.

*
-JBClaywell
© P&Z Publications 2019

we, mistakes made in groping dark,
ironed and cheekkissed happy accidents,
told we arrived by love, and our purpose forward: to love.

we were chocolate milk runners.
we were completion grades.
coloring sheets of MLK and jagged cutouts of billy goats.
we were girls in sequined jeans with scraped knees.
on the basketball court we pushed pigtails to concrete.
rumors of us kissing in the lobby waiting for our rides
did circulate.

we, skinny white girls of Moore, Okla.,
skipped supper and laid at the feet of TV-watchers
like bleached branches of fallen oaks garnishing their standing brothers.

we were doorbells.
we were passenger seats.
peeking in the teacher's edition and handshaking answers in fluorescent bathrooms.
we were the first ones on the bus and the last ones off.
knees to chin, untied laces on heater's ****, winterlong sweat factory.
rumors of us agreeing to go to prom over fourth-period lunch
did circulate.

we, writers suffered writers' morality,
disregarded right, wrong, norm; lounged, waiting to be under the bus,
suffering for the story. tense matchstick lovers --  dim light for a moment and then.

we were someone else's *******.
we were someone else's hairpins.
as whatever ran so hot in us cooled, dried on thrift store comforters,
so did we. ceiling fans and ***. fingernails and boxed wine.
rumors sustaining.

and so it came, after announcements, after invitations,
after subbing in one bridesmaid for another, we were getting married.
we were grooms with empty pockets and full of sound advice.
our fathers took us behind the church,
chaplipped our foreheads,  and said,
"I know, we promised you were made from love and to love.
But I gotta be real honest here. You were made from whiskey.
And there's always the distillery."

we were jobless in wrinkled suits.
we were brown shoes; black belts.
and this will look good on your resumé. and this will look good on your resumé.
translation: how about ******* this ****? or how about this one?
a resumé was one page. we couldn't fit all the ***** on one page.

we, beardheavy and deodorant-streaked,
lived in dream houses in Ulysses, Kan., drove dream Tahoes,
watched dream Netflix, next to  portly wives who looked like
QUEEN MOTHER OF ALL THE BROTHELS OF THE LOWER MIDWEST.

we were childless.
we were wanting.
after consulting a physician and a bottle of whiskey,
we lifted and pinned the sagging belly of our wives with
a wooden board. one good **** in. one borrowed pregnancy test.

and so it came, the weddings of our sons. behind the church,
we took them aside and said,
*"I know, we promised you were made from love and to love.
But I gotta be real honest here."

I am not your accessory
a statement piece
to your spineless connections
The thousandth image-oriented festivity
That you thoughtlessly threw
Due to the boredom of your own reflection
I am not a string of pearly witty conversation that you casually bring up when you aren't capable of employing stimulation
I am not a magenta lipstick you reach to cover up your mindnumbing gossip about the neighbors indecencies
You try to duplicate me and slip your right, then your left foot into vintage leather Jimmy Choos
Oh but your archless perception of life
Doesn't quite fit your soul next to mine
Empathy was never your strong suit
Oh but a tailored cold charcoaled judgement suit--that fits just.right.
Still you try to wear me, despite discrepancies
And oh how you hate the way I mock your silhouette
I clash with your champagne clings
You try to bash me against silverware but I remain mute
"Oh but if I can't make her an accessory, I shall make her an appendage!"
Oh how Christian and courteous of you
In the same way you asked your bridesmaid to step off the alter when she came out to you on that heavenly day
You ask me to be your brothers appendage
Oppressive and aloof
Asking was always a waste of time for you
You expect.

I am crying not because I am jealous of your lot. You deserve that happiness friend. You deserve that love that you have kept and nurtured for ten seasons of summer and rain.

I am not tearful because I am afraid that in time I will be alone. I will never be able to experience clandestine kisses nor embraces from another. I expect and prepare myself to be on my own.

I am weeping because as I assist you on your wedding day it will be the last time that we share that moment as maidens. The thread of being sisters of circumstance will be cut as you say “I do”. Somehow our worlds will part as your groom will take you by his side.

It was the day of the wedding of Mr and Mrs Epithalamium they looked quite the Heroic Couplet and full of Romanticism until the Englyn  Prose-d the Questionku ‘ Do you take this woman’ …  then in a wavering Iambic Pentameter voice the groom whispered ‘I do not know’ ….Mrs Epithalamium felt quite Dizain and tried to scratch out his Ruba’I, the  Clerihew stepped forward to comfort her but tripped over some Concrete and felt like a right Cowboy. The brides father, the Russian Chastushka, grabbed the groom and with a  Carpe Diem attitude threatened to Choka him.

            The guests all gathered in an Enclosed Rhyme with the best man making quite a Dramatic Monologue, the brides mother had her  Hybronnet knocked off her head and the chief bridesmaid had her Kimo torn in the affray. The young flower girls Haibun and Hamd both burst into tears as their Crown of Sonnets were totally destroyed.

            The Rev. Pantoum pleaded for calm, then repeating his plea for the melee to stop started making a List of the damage, quick as a Ghazal and with great Imagism he protected the Crystalline glass from smashing into Ninette pieces. Meanwhile the poor bride was in a state of Nonet anxiously trying to get past the twins Munaajaat and Musaddas, her Idyll life had been turned upside down, today was the day she had hoped to change her Name to Triolet.

              Alliteration watched while women wept, then stepped forward and with a Lyric in his voice asked people to calm down, he told everyone he had Naat come here to watch a display such as this and suggested they went for a hot Canzone to discuss the next move, Tanka and Tyburn readily agreed as they were very hungry and particularly as it was Free Verse it meant they could eat as much as they wanted. The nearly bride couldn’t give a Sijo if she never saw her ex again she was sick of being Kyrielle to and did not want anyone else’s Epyllion and with a final Than-Bauk stormed out of the club…


© 6/4/2013

I was your bridesmaid but don't know you now
In orange satin gown with circles that went round
I stood near your side in your white wedding dress
But I never knew you in that church where flowers rest.

Though only a child in lace edged gloves
Carrying a white bible given with love
And wearing the crucifix a gift with shoes
I stood and waited for the lady I never knew.


I still have one glove made of lace
And the leather bible in its plastic case
But I never knew you and soon I'll be gone
Thank you for letting me share your song.

Alorè, she-winged orb,
     *Aidenn's story,
As of ev'ry of all stars absorb
   Moorish wars and glory.

Dulcet wings she tether,---
  Mighty kinsmen grayed
By unlocking clean of her
   Beauty's Bridesmaid.

  In each pearling Note
    As syrup entwining
Silently thro' her sacred throat---
  Who here pins a-singing?

Voyeurs there take pleasure
       Leering forward
At the Seraph's ******* treasure,
  All mastered by one measure
Of Alorè's harsh sharp-sword.

Alorè's wings do they a-part
      Off of the Empyrean
Out the dead the sun of Lords depart
    The Dawn of Aurorean.

         Ancient welfare
     Upon Achaean's Night,
Where all the sea-seraphs a-delight,
No mortal can't escape the light
   *Of the She-Winged ******* affair.

there are big ships, there are small ships
but friendship is the best ship of all
yet all those friendships are dusts
compared to the breathtaking rainbow of mine

we are completely different
but still alike in so many ways
we're a pair of mismatched socks
you're like a precious pearl hidden in the ocean
one of the amazing things
God have ever granted me in life
those dark clouds you see in yourself
my eyes look at them as rays of sunshine
I've never think of you as a sister
like other best friends do
you're more like a part of my soul
my better half

gossip and secrets
all sealed in our bucket
pain and tears
we share them in our prayers
strife and silly fights
I believe it will always end up alright
heartaches and heartbreaks
we mend them with cupcakes

you did not turn my frowns into smiles
instead you turned them into laughter
know that I won't fight for you
I would **** for you
whenever you shed a tear, I don't feel sad
something inside me just die a little
you've put up with me for almost four years
I can't be grateful enough for your existence

years and years from this moment
I want to be your bridesmaid on your blissful day
I want to be the first one you share the good news
when there's another heart beating in you
I want to be the one you play crosswords with when our hairs are grey
I want to be by your side during your final day of breathing
I want to be your best friend again in the after life

when and how you walked in my life, I don't think I will be able to remember
but I know for sure we'll make it to forever

homeless beggar orphan child
belonging nowhere and to no one
damaged goods bent and broken
hidden scars too dark to see
and yet their pain is all i feel
almost made it once or twice
first runner up a thousand times
remaining a ****** bridesmaid still
beaten bloodied and long retired
my heart heavy but not quite numb
seeking a light within the darkness
questioning only if and when
this lonely dream will ever end

A not so perfect sestina
For me the sestina is a perfect way to tell a story.
This is a wedding rehearsal dinner told from different points of view.
The rehearsal dinner

Father of the Bride
God, she’s beautiful.  My poor blind baby
Girl.  She thinks he is some kind of white knight
Tomorrow will be the blackest of days
Married to a gold digger. No more time
No, the thought…Tomorrow will be his last
Lost her to a cur. Pain colors me blue

Maid of Honor
Oh my God, he has gorgeous eyes of blue
What he sees in her, ug! She’s a baby
She’s kidding herself, this will never last
She’s so gullible. Yeah – he works nights
Like the night he’ll have with me, our last time
On to the next, tomorrow’s a new day

Groom’s Mother
What a farce! Tomorrow is a wasted day
A loveless marriage is living life blue
This smile hurts.  Unfortunately time’s
Run out.  She’s gotta be knocked up – poor baby
But we need the money; right now, this night
****, how much longer can this agony last

Best Man
He’s such a man *****.  No way will this last
Getting married is just another day
She needs to be saved. I would be her knight
If she were mine, her life would not be blue
She’s perfect. If only she were my baby
It should be us.  If only there was time

Groom
Too bad she’s not the bride, she’s a good time
God, how much longer can this dinner last
At least her friends are hot, oh yeah baby
I don’t know how I’ll get through this long day
Marriage, ick, man I’m crying the **** blues
I’m gonna bang the bridesmaid all through the night

Bride
Oh my God, he’s mine, my shining white knight
I’ll love him always, until the end of time
He’s so perfect - I’ll never sing the blues
He’s my first, my only, he’ll be my last
My wedding will be the most perfect day
Perfect, I can’t wait to have his baby

Envoi

He’s no white knight and she is such a baby
She’s doomed to sing the blues, while he’ll be caught time after time
At long last, the day will end

I never go to weddings
I'd usually end up using my magic girl power
Chasing the boy
Who asked me to catch him
And here's the catch;
"If you can."

I never go to weddings
I'd usually end up sulking away
Ignoring my frenemies
As I scorned at grown men
Leaning against the bar
Obviously wondering why,
Why,
I am not having any fun.

I never go to weddings
I'd usually end up sneaking out
With the guy I've been exchanging stares at
We'd talk all night

I looked forward to weddings, though,
I never go to weddings.

My habits didn't change
Once we snuck out to the nearby pool
Took off all our clothes
And I was photographed, stark naked,
Amidst the chlorinated stupidity

I never go to weddings
They're too uptight
I held up a glass of champagne and yelled,
"And ***** you!" to the man with a blue portrait
Of me in his wallet
As he kissed his bride for the third time

I never go to weddings
I'd usually end up being a bridesmaid
Wearing a ridiculous outfit
Smiling through the pain of my own singularity
And realising that no one really celebrates the couple for them
We are selfish

I never go to weddings . . .

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Relate Articles:

I am often overwhelmed by how forgettable I am
or maybe underwhelmed
would be more accurate
my parents told me that I will be number one
to someone someday
but it’s hard to believe
when you’re not even number one
to your parents
like the moon with its uneventful craters
I eclipse the sun (only for a bit)
A nuisance, nothing more
than a quick shadow
until the sun gains back its glory
always the bridesmaid, never the bride
I watch as everyone else walks down the aisle
and marries intelligence, beauty, success
while Bacardi attempts to numb the reality
that I will always miss the bouquet
but I’ve only been to one wedding
and six funerals
which says more about me
than the deceased
I’d like to think that black is my color
he used to tell me I looked **** in my midnight dress
though no one tells me I look **** anymore

I am
those rouged lips,---
spring waters,
clear,
yet unknown;
I am
the cicada's sound,
repelled birds,
feathers
and stone;
I am
Laburnums---
lynching leaves
they fall, ---
floating on the air,
I am
the skylark,
Beauty's bridesmaid---
Forgotten
In fever's eyes;
I am
the black python
screeching
open mine stitched lips
bleeding forth
I am---
Done,
Sick of this,
Finished,
Pealing open my wounds
to see what I got left of,
I am,---
Not what I use to be;
Nor not what I want to be,
Thus so,
I am
no one---
Instead I'm here
stringing up a knot
From up these reedy webs
I use to be....
So I am,
I am
myself no more.

I'm off to a wedding tomorrow
My plus one being the empty seat waiting for a mystery to sit itself down in it

Oh, about that wedding tomorrow?
The bride has a request....
Don't question the groom
And attempt to be a polite guest
Don't upstage the figure in center stage
And for the love of demands, be mindful of the dress
He's spent months and she's spent years
Leading up to this utopian day
Of white cake and dry tears
For those two words, sealing a promise of eternal affection, to be said
Ending a possible life of possible dread
And the fear of solitude to remain as that, just a fear

Such a seemingly simple request, don't you think?
The wedding tomorrow is sure to be worth a drink
Allow me to capture this essence of love
Marriage being such an on-the-brink

I'm off to a wedding tomorrow
My plus one being the grateful empty seat waiting for the solved mystery to kindly make its way to another bridesmaid

I want to be married and have kids one day
I want to have a real job, both work and play
I want to be a bridesmaid for my best friend
I don't want this life ever to end
But these dreams won't come true
And it's all because of you
You never take care of yourself
All you do is ignore your health
I want to be able to write my own song
I want to be able to sing alone
I want to impact someone's life
I want to be someone's wife
But if you don't control your disease
You cannot do any of these
So I beg you please, there's only one thing to do
Take care of the most important person; You

Monochromtic.
Those gleaming eyes.
Filled with dreams of the universe,of the unspoken world,
The golden smile you wear is a beauty which can't escape; the eyes of your admirers.


'You have valued me,reinforced in me your good virtues.
Loved me in good.
Cherised me in my bad.
Don't you get tired?

'Don't you feel like breaking this bond and running away?
The girl who has always beared me and will continue to do so till the world comes to an end,
'You'll be my bridesmaid'
Said she.
Those lovely words made my heart skip with joy.
Of chimes and beautiful music,
That beautiful day will come,of your marriage.

Girl in blue
ribbons in hair
excitement fills
the springtime air
winter's gone
Daddy's here
and she knows
there's nothing to fear

Girl in red
full of dread
her boyfriend kisses her lips
but she wants to feel her best friend's hips

Girl in yellow
married the fellow
her father most liked
still she wishes
for the bridesmaid's kisses

Girl in black
lays in her final rest
betrothed to a husband
but longed for a wife

I remember that I was not born yet
Never got to see that heavenly day
My beautiful mom clad in lace gown
Handsome dad in suit of black
Hands clasped together
Both wearing a ring on their left hand
How I wish I would have been there
To be your flower girl and bridesmaid
Adorned in surreal satin white
And later on someday I shall remember
Sitting here typing this poem
Wishing I could have been there
To see the spark of love on that great day
When everlasting vows were made
Between that happy loving pair
And little did they know that they would
Have to welcome another novelty
A little baby girl named Marian

*~Marian~

That’s why the sun, that luscious bridesmaid of a girl, who slipped her legs into yellow stockings, could not stop sweating!

The day I wear my blue dress-
My hair up in a braid.
Those dark blue heels on my feet,
And dark veil held by bridesmaid,

The day I step under the trellis,
To the altar surrounded by men,
The priest, and groomsmen,
That day, beneath the sun, well it's...

The day I'll cry, walking down a white carpet,
Blue sweetpea, forget-me-not, cornflower, in my grasp,
I'll stand before matching eyes, and of his heart
I will only hedge to ask

That he love me, in provision, in familial, in sickness,
In health,
For immer and for the poor side of wealth,
For all our days, and the rest...

That the day I'll be wed,
Not far after the day we'll have met,
I will finally let the one who loves me true,
Be the one where the words, will finally be said.
In the way only we can say "I do"

The silence is too loud-
the background noise is making my ears ring.

I don’t know how much longer I can tune it out.
I don’t know how much longer
I can control my mouth
from wandering away on your forehead
and your cheeks
and your collar bones.

I’m sorry if I end up picking you dry,
I just have a lust
for love that seems
to be perpetually unsatisfied.

It cannot be denied I am a fiend,
but to tell you what you do not know
would destroy my pride and
most likely cause your retreat.

How do we go about telling them how we met?
Am I just a bet?
Or just the best that you could get.

I can't help but be cynical towards your approach and
you unfortunately
meet the status quo.

The more I get to know you
the more apparent it becomes
I’ll never be able to control you;
nor will I want to.

My freedom is contingent on yours
as well and it may leave us
in a well

but then we will
finally be alone
and forced to talk and
what if you choose to break it off?

Well then off I go like I had planned for you
the whole time,
zip away on a plane like
I am riding white lines through
white winter skies.

When your hands are on the
insides of my thighs
I can only adjust in passive-
aggressive consent
that could easily
be misinterpreted-
either way.

Don’t let my terrible,
smooth,
icy skin
be the only reason you stay.

I am a hypocrite at best-
hand up my dress and
you biting my lips
like you know I like.

Is this what it’s like to be a grown up?
They say always a bridesmaid,
Well for me?

it’s always the couch.
Never graduating to the ascent
required
to tumble onto the pocketed recesses
of the spare mattress.

I often wonder if
I am simply
The World's Best Unpaid Actress.

C.e.M. 11.22.14

In 72 hours,
1,782 minutes,
103,680 seconds,
How many times can you tell someone you love them?
How many prayers can you pray?
How many tears can you cry in three days?
Too many.
Your world can change completely,
Being thrown off its axis, spinning loosely into insanity.
72 hours: she has weeks to live, the doctors all say.
We can’t do much, but we still pray.
Believing in miracles seems like a waste of time.
But yet we can’t bring ourselves to stop trying,
Hoping that someone in the sky will hear our prayers and wake us all up.
From this nightmare.
I make a pact to myself, I will fill every second, with thoughts of hellos, not goodbyes,
Until the second that she dies.
60 hours: not much to say. She’s dying.
50 hours: Her kidneys failing fast.
48 hours: In a crowded room, I have never felt more alone.
30 hours: Hold up, slow down, you say she only has twenty-four hours to live? What happened to weeks? Every tick, tick, tick of the seconds passing by becomes unbearable. Watching as your mother weeps, trying to hold in the tears, trying to be strong, but, now, what’s the point?
24 hours: Time flies by as your holding on, but passes so slow it is as if you are in slow motion. You hold her hand as tightly as possible as if the second you loosen your grip they will be laying her down in the grave
15 hours: I cannot sleep. I cannot sleep. I cannot sleep, I repeat and repeat as if sure willpower will keep my body going. I tell her “it’s okay. It’s okay to leave.” The words get caught in my throat and I am barely able to breath, or spit out a sad, “I can survive,” knowing with every inch of my soul it’s a lie, but I know I can’t admit this to her, because, it’s time to go.
6 hours: Time is up according to the doctors, just a waiting game now. It’s three in the morning, my hand still in hers. Willpower isn’t enough, I drift off to sleep.
1 hour: I can’t do this...
30 minutes: Memories flooding my head of the words I never said, of the things I never did, never had the chance to do.
10 minutes: Like, go dress shopping for homecoming.
9: Or have her approve my fiancé
8: Or sleepover when I got in a fight with my dad.
7: Or tell her enough times that I love her.
6: Or be a bridesmaid as she married the love of her life.
5: Or hold her hand as my first baby was born.
4: Everyone leaves the room. I can feel it’s the end.
3: Someone, please come in, I can’t do this by myself.
2: I am trembling, trying to find my vocal cords, terrified, I squeeze her hand.
1: Mom walks in the door, breath in, breath out, flat line.

I remember the first day
I saw him.
He sat curled around that teddy bear
like it was the love of his life.
Shy
blushing
intrigued...
All the thoughts my little thirteen year old
mind could harbor.

I remember building a bond
one unlike any other.
I'd never been able to open myself up.
Free myself
Not until he,
Not until he was­­–
is–
continues to be.

I remember the way he looked at me while
driving down the road, laughing at his sister's cat.
Innocent.
Both drunk on each other's company
Addicted.
Unwilling for change.

I remember listening.
Listening to you talk about the girl you hoped to marry.
Someday.
Feeling about how much pride I'd have in being a bridesmaid.
Telling you about my fear of being unloved–
unwanted–
uncherished–
But you.
You just hugged me
promised I would not fade away.

I remember we bloomed
flourished
intensified.
Our souls intertwining
passions flairing
Heated, red-faced argument.
The way you pulled me into you
lying together
my head on your heart
your arms around my lungs
peacefully existing.
Breathe in–
breathe out–
Breathe in–
breathe out–
together.
for what I hoped would be forever.

I remember the pain.
The kind that overwhelms your senses
the kind that demands to be felt.

I remember how everything stopped.
G O N E
Like someone had ripped out my lungs,
and then told me to take a deep breath.
The lungs you once held–
So carefully–
now had gaping holes in them
created by your absence
the undeniable thought that you were gone
and willingly gone.
I remember.


I know the peace.
I feel it every day.
In your absence I welcome the immense calm.
You made your choice.
And you will make one again...
All you have to say is
'Please?'
And I'm all yours.


With two souls like ours
We will always find a way to each other.
*Always

Silence is scary because it means all your thoughts remain in your head
Femme Fatale, black widow waiting for the vibrations of the web
Insecure in my feelings I weep, grand dreams of being wed
But too often the bridesmaid but that is beside me

I just wish I never followed this path again
I could've trusted my intuition and not the way you led
Instead of harboring my ocean inside, I freeze
Focus on anything, the trees, the buzzing bees
But time after time I can feel you creep into my head
My emotional seas uprooted by your breeze
Reminding me of your touch, the way you breathe, the lack

Hoping finally the key I need would come to me
Open me up like a door exposing my heart to the floor
After years of leave, frozen perfectly
You exposed me to everything, now my body needs

Maybe I tried escaping myself by diving into you
But how I forget that you simply a mirror
Showcasing my biggest fear... myself