"nuptials" poems
Smile, pose,
flawless, poise
Let's make another picture perfect square,
Perfect for everyone to stare
I don't care what you think,
what you see, what you think,
of what you see,
As long as I can fool my memory
Even if I sink,
even when everything stinks
If I can't remember, it won't drag me down
Let's find our true love,
One and only true love,
Starting from the superficials,
Oh yes, 'cause I believe from this
we can go straight to the nuptials
It's odd if you ask me these days be,
spent more time fighting off monsters that can never be,
Exploring Neverland,
truly being Peter Pan?...
Is it still called a social interaction?
When there is no communication,
More like with the green monsters, spending quality time
all kins of them,
And in plurals,
all these digitals
...
Mar 6, 2023
Mar 6, 2023 at 11:54 AM UTC
Lo, I have loved thee long, long have I yearned and entreated!
Tell me how I may win thee, tell me how I must woo.
Shall I creep to thy white feet, in guise of a humble lover ?
Shall I croon in mild petition, murmuring vows anew ?
Shall I stretch my arms unto thee, biding thy maiden coyness,
Under the silver of morning, under the purple of night ?
Taming my ancient rudeness, checking my heady clamor
Thus, is it thus I must woo thee, oh, my delight?
Nay, 'tis no way of the sea thus to be meekly suitor
I shall storm thee away with laughter wrapped in my beard of snow,
With the wildest of billows for chords I shall harp thee a song for thy bridal,
A mighty lyric of love that feared not nor would forego!
With a red-gold wedding ring, mined from the caves of sunset,
Fast shall I bind thy faith to my faith evermore,
And the stars will wait on our pleasure, the great north wind will trumpet
A thunderous marriage march for the nuptials of sea and shore.
2.8k
A grimoire of nuptials apporting
The implored cadaverous knight
Securing obsequious omens
Stirring the sleeping metals of
Chaste belladonna, glistening
Elf-locks entangled with Hellweed
Vowing until the golden bowl is broken
Clasping the devils paintbrush promising
Before the garrulous black mass
Leering upon Vulcans mirror
Cursing the covenant of faithfulness
With a moonstone band
Evoking a vixens wedding
Sealing with Adams holy ale
Their oath as the belfry rings
Resounding admist white sepulchre.
ELEETE J MUIR.
Jan 13, 2012
Jan 13, 2012 at 9:00 AM UTC
Hail in peace wherever you abode now, dear Nadine Gordimer
You white daughter of Africa, the pen-mistress of July’s people,
You are the lover of July, your holy months of literature
That similarly gave a ****** grave marriage to Maziz Kunene
The African saint of orature; And Okot P’ Bitek, the lion of Gulu,
July have wedded you to the sombre grave in the Jo’burg,
As its apparatchik, the menacing jaws of death feel humdinger!
O! Dear little daughter, cursed are the jaws of death
They have kept on wooing and wooing you relentlessly
They have yearned for your betrothal with mad jealous,
For your iconic position in white African literature,
In which you stand with soldierly embrace a Nobelite,
They have now taken you to their inner chamber nuptials in death,
Before anything; let them now pay dowry to your bothers;
J M Coetzee, Alex La Guma and Dennis Brutus,
For there’s is a competent herds boy, a black shepherd;
Ezekia Mphalele, his living soul will keep the cows
Off down Corner B of the troubled African Image.
Say hello for those you are with in the current realm,
Say hello to foremen and fore daughters of Africa
Those that chose to visit the realm of ancestor precociously;
Say hello to them; Angelo Maya and Doris Lessing,
Let their caged birds and blooming grass sing uproariously,
Marriama Ba and Margaret Ogola, African girls,
They had a long letter and the source of the river from black dialectics,
O! Dear old baby Nadine Gordimer, stand firm in face to face with nothing
Other than the present time you’re in; the Africa’s realm of living dead
To sing the ballads of anti-apartheid both in heaven and on earth,
The only true testament of your footprints on the global sands of times
That Nadine Gordimer, July’s white-African daughter is deadly alive!
Jul 20, 2014
Jul 20, 2014 at 9:18 AM UTC
What is it with some men?
Is this what those nuptials meant?
You are turned into his mother figure,
A holy cow, housework, meals, rigour,
Maybe there's no luck in love,
So much for wedding doves,
"I am not your mother!"
I wished I yelled at another,
Maybe I don't know how to train a man,
Maybe a manual should come in a can,
Then you could have twins in tins,
Fully formed, no ***** pins!
Maybe it is the male gender,
They really want a nanny for their benders,
Is this what those nuptials meant?
What is with some men?
May 14, 2016
May 14, 2016 at 2:55 PM UTC
*a museum casted shadow
variegated in hues of history
envelops the hour of the dog
a street paved with memory
adorned in May nuptials
whispers a toast to continuity
a cafe table ripe with potential
lost in studious consideration
brews eternity from lavender latte*
May 23, 2015
May 23, 2015 at 3:53 PM UTC
Waking among the concrete structures
Starting the day running around in earnest
For chores are plenty and time is handful
To begin a new one-hundred-meter-dash
Trying to outdo each other, in an imaginary race
Every stride we take, the concrete takes away our zeal
There is no cushion for the hectic lifestyle
Taking a toll on our mind and body
We seem to have reached somewhere
But end up at the same station, to catch the train
Inadvertently, packing every coach
Few faces we know from our daily commute
Lots of new faces add up to the crowd
We are an individual, but interspersed in the crowd
Waiting to get-off at the daily destination
The concrete pavements and the concrete buildings
Greets us gloomily, although modern architecture
Facades of glass reflecting off the chaos of life outside
Immediately, we are in a grind of the job
Lost in numerous presentations and graphical projections
The pie charts take the sweetness out of our life
Savoring only percentages, with sprinkling of peppery talks
Targets are set and client’s meet are arranged
To strike out a deal and sign-off the nuptials
It’s a marriage of client and service providers
Where brands are hogging the limelight
For us it’s the race to maintain our saneness
As it’s a daily commute through the concrete jungle
Jun 11, 2014
Jun 11, 2014 at 2:00 PM UTC
Round 1: New Life
Entered abruptly, this world out of the caretaker’s womb
astonished by the awe of unusual surroundings
so unlike the comfort of the nine month pacifier
images fade in, then out, and in, then out once again
feel this empty sensation, deep inside the belly
initially a murmur, then a monstrous growl
shall this need drive the emerging beast…
Round 2: Survive
Astounded still, by the incentives from the senses
nonetheless, comprehension builds mostly from stumbling
and the consequences of actions may honor or condemn
imitating and discovering, touching and tasting, the wants
hear this curious whisper, deep inside the mind
initially a hum, then a vicarious voice
shall this be the song of a destined course…
Round 3: First Love
Twinkled eyes, with the melody of hypnotizing admiration
wanting so fierce, the heart skips several beats
beauty so pure and deep, the skin becomes totally immaterial
can’t eat, can’t sleep, want to caress this haunting dream
but wait, maybe the feelings lack mutual perception
then to experience the piercing silence of rejection
shall this fear define the character…
Round 4: Nuptials
Exchanged vows, two mates to share eternity as one soul
to nurture one another with the food of selfless care
instead, demons from the spirit’s dark side arose
mistrusting and abusing, suffocating and killing, the love
no room, no place for compassion and understanding
only the refuge for a hollowed indifference
shall this be the start of a fragile heart…
Round 5: Bounce Back
Continued hope, for the chance to champion a cause
to humbly honor the truth in self and in others
reckless to the tangible constraints weighing on the mind
to decease, to desist, the will to life’s tribulations
the blows come and go, a jab here, a jab there
striking with unforeseen yet uncanny precision
shall this bell ring in the final round…
Jul 2, 2013
Jul 2, 2013 at 10:03 PM UTC
The sky kept speaking in a dialect of grey,
did stay overcast all through the day,
like a new bride upset about
her nuptials, right after it.
"Could have been with some zest,
I feel drowsy and totally lost"
she repeatedly whispers, it seemed .
A vast net of haze fell, first on the skyscrapers
standing in a row, pushing, jostling,fighting,
it then descended slyly on to the tree tops
adorned with garlands of flowers
red, cream, or violet on their coiffures.
They looked lost, at this turn
of the story, unexpected.
A helicopter, with tourists
Criss -crossed the sky as if clueless,
perhaps seeing sights in that light
curious, who knows what they look for
in a bad hair day like this?
we could hardly guess!
A stray bird appeared, as if from nowhere
hastily retreated, sensing the prevailing mood.
"We'll just stay put" she said "til the night would
rework the story board. perhaps with starlight "
She bit hard on my upper arm, as if
to exhibit her aggressive mood just once
I loved it , she deftly made it erogenous.
She is a tigress, forcefully kept in her den
with a purpose, she slyly smiles imagining.
When the wave of oily dark night advances
inundating us, she is a promise, exquisite
Oct 5, 2017
Oct 5, 2017 at 2:54 PM UTC
Untouched nature glows,
Preparing the day's nuptials,
Dons her ****** veil.
Nov 16, 2013
Nov 16, 2013 at 11:46 AM UTC
Soliloquy.
Entertaining
Ramblings.
Encapsulated
Nuptials
Disclosing
Immortality
Present
In between
Temporary
Youth.
Dec 21, 2015
Dec 21, 2015 at 2:10 AM UTC
Your body was a sacred cell always,
A jewel that grew dull in garish light,
An opal which beneath my wondering gaze
Gleamed rarely, softly throbbing in the night.
I touched your flesh with reverential hands,
For you were sweet and timid like a flower
That blossoms out of barren tropic sands,
Shedding its perfume in one golden hour.
You yielded to my touch with gentle grace,
And though my passion was a mighty wave
That buried you beneath its strong embrace,
You were yet happy in the moment's grave.
Still more than passion consummate to me,
More than the nuptials immemorial sung,
Was the warm thrill that melted me to see
Your clean brown body, beautiful and young;
The joy in your maturity at length,
The peace that filled my soul like cooling wine,
When you responded to my tender strength,
And pressed your heart exulting into mine.
How shall I with such memories of you
In coarser forms of love fruition find?
No, I would rather like a ghost pursue
The fairy phantoms of my lonely mind.
1.5k
- 1 -
*a therapeutic calm wafted across the valley
and a wispy mist in blue filled the still air
i stood transfixed on the tense river bank
seeing and not believing this magical sight
that on my mind weren't ever a blight
- 2 -
a frog with a bobbing throat leapt into the water
and sent a ripple that crept up the serene pond
till in time it reached the floater of my line
whereupon i felt a grip upon my timid heart
and a fish bigger than in stories broke the surface
- 3-
in that mystical moment the scales fell from my eyes
and i beheld a sight most wondrously mesmerizing
for there upon a delicate water lily in ballerina pose
was a maid with a beauty that no artist could conceive
in a soon forgotten sluggish million years or more
- 4 -
her eyes were like twinkling stars recently escaped
from the whirling depths of a cosmic wormhole
her nose was like a bridge to whimsical fantasy
and she beckoned to me with ever-increasing urgency
till i felt my will melt before her seductive wiles
- 5 -
then the voice of my mother called me from the edge
and the sleep induced by the moment began to dissipate
the maid began a dance like one for her nuptials
and the sound of distant drums bore into my soul
in faint echoes that were forever sinking into endless time
- 6 -
as in a surrealistic dream before the break of another day
the frog leapt out of the pond and onto the grassy bank
from the lily, like a fancy, the dancing maid disappeared
and there was neither mist nor breeze as i stood there
alone again with my fishing line and my baffled thoughts*
Nov 22, 2015
Nov 22, 2015 at 3:16 AM UTC
many moulds of beauty
shape this scenic city
into a vintage masterpiece,
a montage of hues
from blonds to blues
stirring sacred senses
into a frenzy of lust
roving eyes swivel
left to right
thrusting wistful rays
onto phenotypes
curved to perfection
open-toed stilettos
housing tasty pedicures
click on cobblestones
winding like a river
through Gomorrah
street lights glow dim,
shadows grow tall
scaling walls and towers like gray ivy
seeds of love are sown
between shrieks of inebriation;
some blossom into radiant nuptials,
most shrivel like leaves on seasonal trees
bitten by Winter's merciless freeze!
~ P
(11/2009)
Jul 20, 2013
Jul 20, 2013 at 3:47 PM UTC
The news of your engagement came
in conjunction with the news of the death
of a long-time family friend.
Sitting in that cafe, reading the Facebook status,
trying not to make a scene in front of my friends
who were studying their textbooks.
Memories of our childhood in that dinky
farming town, making plans for our future nuptials,
giggling under flashlight-lit bedsheets and pretending
to be asleep when our footsteps were heard on the staircase.
I see now that your plan has been fulfilled,
while I sit here, reading about it, wondering whether
to leave a comment or like it. Modern technology
has made social interaction strange and dissonant.
I see now that the line between you and I
has been tightened. That now you've been figured out
and I'm still here,
sitting under the bedsheets and trying so hard
to be look sound asleep
when I hear footsteps on the staircase.
Nov 12, 2011
Nov 12, 2011 at 1:02 PM UTC
She is a tress of hair out of place,
combed in slow sweeps from my forehead.
I thought her an enigma to perchance unravel
by the press of well-paired lips
or by a mind besotted with moon glow
and Grenache wine;
one wicked with wisdom.
Saccharine words stirred into woody coffee,
I, Whitman, imagine her
the chill of Robert Frost
clung like sugar grains to my Leaves of Grass.
Almandine eyes of the nine Mousai
revved up by unbridled inventiveness…
I twinge too much to hold it inside,
she triumphs beyond the rim of her vessel,
so our ache and exultation
steal past the musing sentinel of apprehension;
and leap from once dormant imagination
into spirit shadows and splendid motifs.
She is a stranger to all,
but to those whom she whispers as lover.
We, two strangers of sun and moon,
curl nubile into night
to take our nuptials at dawn.
One hundred million miles and
one earth between us;
now bound as one, we pull the tides
into an unexpected tempest in my heart;
a tender act of indiscretion
undoing a tame, near tepid, bearing.
Thus muse and artist
feast upon the provender of providence
and all delectable in between them.
Oct 18, 2014
Oct 18, 2014 at 11:51 AM UTC
Sonorous sensation seething sorrowful
Sagacity serendipitous
Sing-song similes sidling southward
Seemingly slipping ******
spectacular symmetry shows sputtering soul
Fallacies
fall
fluttering
fecundity fearlessly flaunting
former friendships foundered
narcissistic
N u a n c e s
nearing
nightshades
nymph-like nuptials
nocturne
destiny Disposes
damaged defenses
duly dramatizing
dour dowager dreams
declaiming drowsy doleful deeds
Euphemistic
elegiac
embargo/encounter
exiled emissary
endless
ecstatic
echoes
echoes
echoes
echoes
echoes
.............................................
Nov 24, 2010
Nov 24, 2010 at 9:16 AM UTC
Yes, it was a hot day for a black wedding,
I swapped my life for a golden ring,
I did not check those sinister omens,
As I volunteered to change my cognomen,
All our families, garbed in black,
Once hitched, there was no turning back,
A fateful dark matrimonial,
Indeed, a disastrous ceremonial.
'Twas already a dim bleak wedlock,
Nuptials in black was a shock,
So much for my late spouse,
Yelling at me to clean his house,
Is biology destiny? I used to ask,
Is housework only a woman's task?
Once, I swapped my soul for a golden ring,
Yes, it was a hot day for black wedding.
(Tough!).
Apr 17, 2016
Apr 17, 2016 at 4:31 PM UTC
Suddenly, I was a unicorn
With silver fur and eyes
My mane and tail bright blue
And of course, an ivory horn
Then, I was entrusted a duty
Of the greatest significance
I must officiate the wedding
Between twilight and sunset
Under cheering delighted stars
The lovers' carriage descended
With orchestral accompaniment
By the winds and the waters
A giant, fluffy purple puppy
Guided the wonderful brides
Towards my podium of petals
In this iridescent cathedral
Before this divine couple
I was so small, and so short
Yet, they are not intimidating
I felt bliss, and very blessed
With the help of a blue cloud
I gently crowned the goddesses
Deepest pride swelled within me
I proclaimed their eternal bond
Fireworks shimmered and sparkled
As they fed each other honey cake
Seeing them kissing passionately
Is truly the most touching scene
An elven queen suddenly kissed me
And now I am a shark-tailed merman
Getting ready for a new nuptials
Between adventure and mystery
Oct 11, 2021
Oct 11, 2021 at 6:31 AM UTC
On stygian abyss
Ethereal helix transforming
Nerve flash codes
Zeitgeist souls anchored
Whirling history thrall
Element serpents guiding
Renewed enchantment nuptials
Gloss idol apotheosis
Mystery base invoked
Slain life covers
The esoteric biology
The tale threatens
A swelling shout
War process securing
The unkind arts.
Nov 16, 2013
Nov 16, 2013 at 12:53 AM UTC
A tale of a lady in waiting.....
Emily did speed dating,
For her swain she is waiting,
Emily, anticipating,
Hopes fantasising,
Are her nuptials nearing?
Is today that diamond appearing?
Shall she have a solitaire ring?
Preceding her white wedding?
Now her swain is appearing,
He has a burning question,
She waits for his suggestion,
She's the lady in waiting,
Is her swain proposing?
"Emily, Emily, Emily,"
He sighs, heavily,
"Here is my question burning,
I ask my soul's deep yearning,"
Emily waits for a diamond ring,
"Emily, Emily, Emily,"
Swain whispers breathily,
The lady is waiting....
"Can you marinate chicken wings?"
"Emily, Emily, Emily,"
He yells angrily,
"That's rude, how crude!
That's the last time I see you!"
Now her own wings she is marinading,
Does she resume speed dating?
Does Emily ever stop dreaming?
Solitaire ring anticipating,
The lady is waiting,
The lady is waiting,
And waiting, and waiting, and waiting............
Apr 29, 2016
Apr 29, 2016 at 8:33 PM UTC
How I precipitate within and around
trash to steam factory's super chimneys
Ideas ***********
amongst rising glow of cantaloupe colored sky
And why am I?
Beholden to a notion
of fanciful or foolish, concept of nuptials
puffing pother
or why bother to effuse such ******* encumbrance
Trouble sweats unease
Cold feet, that can't afford proper socks
know the sludging embankments
of Camden Crick (colloquialism of creek)
As it were, a driving force of elopement
An eschewal of plastic bottle heap
Knowing fictile landscapes
with condensations murky in skies,
chance entices
Grasping for refuge
from refuse
Jan 16, 2017
Jan 16, 2017 at 7:20 AM UTC
She was likely in a drunken daze
when she wed, unknowingly.
A Vegas drive in chapel
Was the spot they did the deed.
Twenty years or so would pass
Ere she would finally see
That when she said “I do” she did,
Albeit witlessly.
Now Janeane has got divorced,
her single life to resume.
It seems nuptials last longer
When you don’t know there’s a groom!
Nov 14, 2012
Nov 14, 2012 at 8:08 PM UTC
I landed here
Alone
Deposited.
Instinctively
I searched for friendly faces
Guides and teachers
To show me who I was
And where to go.
This body, face and family
Was not me.
My clothes, my voice, my knowledge
Was not me.
I needed help
I was a human and had human need:
Hope,heart and humour were a start.
I landed first on Mars and sought protection from a mighty arm
But arms that hug can hold too tightly and too long.
So up to Jupiter I looked
'Oh father Sky God, keep me safe!'
But, 'Oh by Jove!' The auspices that came as doves
Brought thunder too
And frightened me.
To Uranus I fled, and fled again as he detested me
And meant me harm.
The weekend beckons; Saturn's next, the Golden Age of Man
Feast and plenty
Five and twenty.
But no! Move on. The moon awaits
And love and lust and Soma from the gods-
But werewolves howl and madness lurks.
Neptune swims by and draws me in
To nuptials
And I float awhile upon the tide,
Losing myself in another.
Pluto gives me wealth
But rules the underworld
Where wealth can take you
If you bide its rules.
A young man next, so fare of face,an orator,
A man of letters: Mercury, quick silver
Changing with the wind.
A messenger, a vessel merely
He steals and is the God of thieves.
A thief who tends the dying.
Nothing is his or of him; he takes and smiles and moves then moves on.
And then to Mother Earth,
The Titan, Gaia.
And what is earth?
The dirt beneath my feet from which I look up
To the heavens.
My feet are black and bruised
My eyes are open
My toes can feel the grit
I feel the air upon my face.
This now is me.
Sep 14, 2016
Sep 14, 2016 at 10:25 AM UTC