En.Citatepedia^®.ro

In High Life

Sir Impycu Lackland, from over the sea,
Has led to the altar Miss Bloatie Bondee.
The wedding took place at the Church of St. Blare;
The fashion, the rank and the wealth were all there
No person was absent of all whom one meets.
Lord Mammon himself bowed them into their seats,
While good Sir John Satan attended the door
And Sexton Beelzebub managed the floor,
Respectfully keeping each dog to its rug,
Preserving the peace between poodle and pug.
Twelve bridesmaids escorted the bride up the aisle
To blush in her blush and to smile in her smile;
Twelve groomsmen supported the eminent groom
To scowl in his scowl and to gloom in his gloom.
The rites were performed by the hand and the lip
Of his Grace the Diocesan, Billingham Pip,
Assisted by three able-bodied divines.
He prayed and they grunted, he read, they made signs.
Such fashion, such beauty, such dressing, such grace
Were ne'er before seen in that heavenly place!
That night, full of gin, and all blazing inside,
Sir Impycu blackened the eyes of his bride.

poem by Ambrose Bierce
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The First Miracle (Bible Poems for Children)

The wedding party had begun,
Mary looked for Jesus, her
son.

They had ran out of wine,
The wedding party could not
dine.

She asked Jesus, solve this
somehow,
He simply said, my time is
not now.

His mothers face was all
gloom,
As he looked across the room.

Six empty jars in corner sat,
Jesus said. fetch me that.

Fill with water, bring to me,
New wine for the crowd to see.

The bride grooms father, first
to taste,
He told the crowd in haste.

The best wine I've ever had,
The bride groom was, no longer
sad.

The wedding party lasted all
night,
The bride and groom, smiled in
delight.

poem by Heather Burns
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Identity Of Moment

At twelve of night philosopher thinks with a cup of tea
At twelve of night exuded in dream
At twelve of night cloud of blue sky burns
At twelve of night strip by strip waves fall to ground
At twelve of night full moon flashes of light
At twelve of night horn of car strikes on door
At twelve of night couple enters into dwell of love
At twelve of night loud cry of progenitors comes
At twelve of night machinegun of devilish roars
At twelve of night whistles of train strikes
At twelve of night the red sun of monument raises.

poem by Bongokobida Zakaria
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A Jewish Wedding

Jane Doze - A Jewish Wedding
By JaneDoze

Hi, I'm Jane Doze and I have a story to tell you...

I have not been to many weddings. This one was pretty funny. My brother had poison oak and his face was swelled up so big he couldn't see out of his eyes. He had to walk around with an ice pack on his face all day. He was in the groom’s party so; he was wearing a tuxedo too!

My uncle was confused and said to me during the ceremony, ' I didn't know we were Jewish? ' I had to tell him that we aren't.

It all went by pretty fast actually. The Rabbi had the Bride and Groom sign the papers and then everyone had to pose for pictures.
I reflected how weeks before, I had helped one of the maids of honor make the party favors.

She took Hershey’s kisses and taped them together to make roses. They turned out really good. There was one on every plate in the reception room. I was so proud to have helped.

When the pictures were finally over, we all were so hungry and happy to go inside. As we approached the reception room, someone came out into the hall and said to the Bride, ' The Rabbi has eaten all the party favors! '

The Bride said to the Groom, ' See, I told you something bad would happen. It always does, even after all the wedding planning! '
She was a pretty good sport. The Bride had someone escort the Rabbi to his car, while her bridesmaids went and tried to arrange what was left of the party favors. They placed them into vases, a few here, and a few there.

Then, the Bride and Groom cut the cake to the music of the mission impossible theme. They even wore goggles and bibs. It was an awesome day even though my brother couldn't see a thing.

Moral to the Story: Never leave a Rabbi in a room full of temptation

poem by Patricia Dobrosipearson
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Always The Bride, But Not The Groom

Always the bride, but not the groom
that is what I became
when I went to a Wedding in October.
We went to the wedding,
then along to the reception.
I stood talking to a couple of friends
and the bride rushed in and said to me.
“Dave look after these for me“
She then commenced to hand me
her bridal bouquet and handbag.
One of our friends Donall
gave me a hug and kiss
and asked me to marry him.
His partner Janice grabbed her camera
and took a photo of me,
bridal bouquet in one hand, handbag in the other
and a lopsided smile from the mouth ulcer I had.
Right there and then I became a bride, but not the groom.

20 November 2008

Author’s note:
I dedicate this poem to:
Janice Windle (who took the photo)
Donall Dempsey (who planted the kiss)
Tara (the real bride for dropping me in it.)

poem by David Harris
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Renaissance Wedding

Standing where I am
With the many lords and knights
As well as the many ladies and mages
We all smile, nod, and understand
For we know for this couple
This time's now for them
And something full of blessing is waiting
As they walk, this place is their rightful stage

It's a Renaissance Wedding
And I'm proud to be for this occasion, a knight
My costume stops at my knees
With my boots going from my feet to my knees
The cape I wear sways in the breeze

The bride and the groom say their vows to one another
The service then crowns them
And as such
The bride and the groom are now a king and queen

The king and queen thank us, the audience
For turning out to commemorate
For making everything pleasant
And so we begin to celebrate
With a great feast by the gate
All in all
It was a beautiful Renaissance Wedding

poem by Justin Gildow
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Jus Primae Noctis

(In medieval times, the right of the
Lord of the Manor to spend the first night
with a peasant's bride) .

John and Jayne at the altar stood,
To put up their wedding banns,
In the Church at Haversham, Holy Cross
On Sir Robert de Courcy's lands,
When a clatter of hooves on the cobblestones
Brought dread to the open door,
As the Lord of the Manor came striding in
And planted his feet on the floor.

He looked at the two with a great disdain,
His hand on his scabbard sword,
His knights stood silent across the nave,
Not one would utter a word.
His voice rang out in that hallowed place
As Jayne cowered down, distress'd,
'I come to claim the Lord's First Right
By the power jus primae noctis.'

He strolled so arrogant down the aisle,
Of the Hereford Village Kirk,
Then drew his sword with a wicked smile,
With the tip of it, lifted her skirt,
'Her legs are fine, I can tell you that, '
He said to John with a sneer,
But John had averted his eyes to the floor
As his eyes were beginning to tear.

De Courcy turned, and he walked away
Up the aisle to the Norman doors,
Then turned at last with a final command
That would end their short discourse,
'You'll place yourself at my mercy, then,
And leave your husband denied,
You'll make your way to the castle gate
On the night that the knot is tied! '

John had cursed as they rode away,
The priest was more reserved,
'You should think it an honour, young man, ' he said,
That your bride will be well served.
With luck, you may get a blue-blood son,
And honours will come his way,
Sir Robert has twenty or more in the town
That are blessed in the usual way.'

Jayne knew, of course, it would come to this,
She had seen with her sister Jone,
Carried away to the castle gate,
And weep all the way back home.
She'd watched her belly grow big with child
While her man had cursed and sworn,
'Til the day she lay on a bale of hay
As the child arrived, still-born.

Meanwhile, in Bristol, came a ship
That had sailed from Gascony,
Dropping a sickening sailor there
With its wines and its armoury,
The sailor staggered up streets outside,
And fell in the tavern door,
Infected all that were drinking there,
As the pestilence came ashore.

It spread at the rate of a raging fire
That nothing could halt or douse,
The abscesses in the armpits made
Their way from house to house,
The plague ran on through the countryside
And arrived at Haversham,
On the day of the wedding of John and Jayne
Though they didn't know it then.

There was just one victim on that day,
A woman who stayed at home,
She watched as her flesh grew puffy, as
The boils grew down below,
She sent a note to her sister, said
'I'll not be there at the feast,
But I have a gift I'll give to you,
It's the least I can do... the least! '

That evening, out by the castle gate
A woman was led inside,
De Courcy sat in the dark, and watched
As she knelt by the Lord's bedside,
She knelt in shadows, and then she wept
And he watched as she disrobed,
Then stood quite naked beside his bed
For the lord to touch and probe.

He pulled her onto the bed and grasped her
Close to his body there,
And then she laughed, it was not the laugh
Of a bride caught in despair,
The moon shone bright through the chamber then
And he shrank from the woman's moan,
She was covered in blood and pustules, said:
'Not Jayne - but her sister Jone! '

He screamed for his knights, who pulled her off,
Then spilt her blood on the floor,
Cut off her head, then shrank in dread
At the sight of her festering sores,
The plague ran right through the castle then,
Spared not one knight or horse,
While John and Jayne in the forest lay
Til the plague had run its course.

poem by David Lewis Paget
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Wedding

By the country road I was going silent.
It was deserted and long in the view.
The accordeons had started playing suddenly,
And the silence waved her hands, being confused.

And there was wedding, wedding, wedding singing,
And was dancing.
And wings were carrying it far and far.
And there was a little place to wedding funning!
Was not enough place in the earth and sky!

Under play of the rural orchestra the wind joked
With the bride's white veil trying to twine.
The bridegroom was so serious, the bride was
Inconceivably, amazingly young.

The troikas passed by with the sound ringing,
* troika - three horses, harnessed together
And I felt the breath of spring, fresh and new.
I was going alone and unmarried,
And regretted of me being not a groom.

Somewhere was wedding, wedding, wedding singing
And was dancing.
And wings were carrying it far and far.
And there was a little place to wedding funning!
Was not enough place in the earth and sky!

poem by Robert Rozhdestvensky, translated by Lyudmila Purgina
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Union

The bride walks down
the lonely aisle.
But in the distance
she sees his smile.
Slowly she approaches
and knows full well
that in that smile
is where she'll dwell.

The groom stands proudly,
his eyes aglow.
And in the distance
with steps so slow
he sees the one
whose heart is his
to have and to hold.
And in the union
there lies the gold.

poem by Edwina Reizer
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They Just Don't Make 'em Like You Anymore

Ive looked every where there is a love affair
I must replace racing through the people chase
But still surrounded by memories of your face.
They just dont make em like you anymore
Not up in the mountains or down by the shore
Something shine in the fashion
In the smile that you wore.
They just dont make em like you anymore
In the eyes of someone new
I wait for a glance of you.
But its never there
Among the precious few
Your kind of person is becoming so rare.
They just dont make em like you anymore
Not up in the mountains or down by the shore
Something shine in the fashion
In the smile that you wore.
Like those whiteless dresses
At the second hand store
Or sweet old songs filtering out through the floor.
The fashion comes and the fashion goes
And the gossip magazines and the videos
A bran new actress on a screen
In a brand new style of clothes
But by any other name.
A rose is still a rose
And it grows in my memories
Wonder if you still are the same
While I look for a remedy
Someone with a tender heart
To clean your name.
They just dont make em like you anymore
Not up in the mountains or down by the shore
Something shine in the fashion
In the smile that you wore.
Its an easy thing to learn, but so hard to ignore
Now I know exactly what Im looking for
They just dont make em like they made em before.
They just dont make em like you anymore
Not up in the mountains or down by the shore
Something shine in the fashion
In the smile that you wore...

song performed by by Kenny Rogers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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White Wedding

It’s a lovely church
And a lovely day to be inside one
As it’s raining and there’s a wedding.
The organ plays the soundtrack.
I inspect the guests.
The search for people I know
Interrupted by hats with their own postcode.
And noise made by bored children.
The wedding party arrive
And the bride is bonny
And the groom, calm.
The hymns are sung, joyfully.
Vows are made, rings exchanged.
The register is signed and witnessed.
A fine baritone entertains.
So what if there is
An elephant trumpeting in the aisle.
Since honesty is the only impediment,
Let them have their day.

poem by Fiona Lochhead
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Sharing Eve's Apple

1.
O Blush not so! O blush not so!
Or I shall think you knowing;
And if you smile the blushing while,
Then maidenheads are going.

2.
There's a blush for want, and a blush for shan't,
And a blush for having done it;
There's a blush for thought, and a blush for nought,
And a blush for just begun it.

3.
O sigh not so! O sigh not so!
For it sounds of Eve's sweet pippin;
By these loosen'd lips you have tasted the pips
And fought in an amorous nipping.

4.
Will you play once more at nice-cut-core,
For it only will last our youth out,
And we have the prime of the kissing time,
We have not one sweet tooth out.

5.
There's a sigh for aye, and a sigh for nay,
And a sigh for 'I can't bear it!'
O what can be done, shall we stay or run?
O cut the sweet apple and share it!

poem by John Keats
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Weddings - Some observations

an angelic smile
on the face of his lovely bride
the groom is ecstatic

the fairyland feel
twinkling stars and soft music
a garden wedding

the bride's dress sparkles
as she dances the polka
the spotlight is on her

the flower girls skip
to the music showering
confetti on all

A unique three tier cake
That took ages and patience
Is one of its kind

smiles and champagne
flow freely as guests mingle
and enjoy the party

the last such occasion
took place thirty years ago
may this one be happier

PS: Inspired by the Royal Wedding

poem by Sandra Martyres
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O Blush Not So!

O BLUSH not so! O blush not so!
Or I shall think you knowing;
And if you smile the blushing while,
Then maidenheads are going.

There's a blush for want, and a blush for shan't,
And a blush for having done it;
There's a blush for thought, and a blush for nought,
And a blush for just begun it.

O sigh not so! O sigh not so!
For it sounds of Eve's sweet pippin;
By these loosen'd lips you have tasted the pips
And fought in an amorous nipping.

Will you play once more at nice-cut-core,
For it only will last our youth out,
And we have the prime of the kissing time,
We have not one sweet tooth out.

There's a sigh for aye, and a sigh for nay,
And a sigh for "I can't bear it!"
O what can be done, shall we stay or run?
O cut the sweet apple and share it!

poem by John Keats
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Smyrna

The message first to Smyrna sent,
A message full of grace;
To all the Saviour's flock is meant,
In every age and place.

Thus to his church, his chosen bride,
Saith the great First and Last;
Who ever lives, though once he died,
Hold thy profession fast.

Thy works and sorrows well I know,
Performed and borne for me;
Poor though thou art, despised and low,
Yet who is rich like thee?

I know thy foes, and what they say,
How long they have blasphemed;
The synagogue of Satan, they,
Though they would Jews be deemed.

Though Satan for a season rage,
And prisons be your lot;
I am your friend, and I engage
You shall not be forgot.

Be faithful unto death, nor fear
A few short days of strife;
Behold! the prize you soon shall wear,
A crown of endless life!

Hear what the holy Spirit saith
Of all who overcome;
They shall escape the second death,
The sinner's aweful doom!

poem by John Newton
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Utilitarians

You mislead me into believing that I am invited to this
Wedding party, I do not demand that i be furnished a copy of the wedding invitation
With my name on it, trusting you that the invitation is true,
So when I handed my gift to the bride and the groom
their
Eyes ask for my name and well,
thank me for the gift

When the truth is you are only interested for the free
Ride that I have given
for all three of you, liars!

the bride and groom do not even know my name

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Take My Hand.....

just a minute ago i
passed by a marriage
ceremony in the
church the bride with it's
lavish gown

splendid with flower
around the aisle
seems forget to notice the
groom near
the altar, waiting to take
up his part

wow!
everybody smile and
clap their hands with a
thundering
cheered it’s really a special
day

between two heart
whose love
seems no one can stop,
everything has
come to witness the moment

of time, the two actors, who
promise and believe of what ends
at the start of the
beginning of love, a cherish
of feeling to tell

that has fulfill of what is time
a decision of will to
last in a life, until when death
well then
separate their bodies

its a promise to take one as
spouse to
each one, of where
the end will begin and
takes it rest

and the heavenly Father
bless and take
them forever and ever....Amen

poem by Antonio Liao
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An Old Fashioned Wedding

Interpolated in 1966 revival]
[FRANK:]
We'll have an old-fashioned wedding
Blessed in the good old-fashioned way
I'll vow to love you forever
You'll vow to love and honor and obey
Somewhere in some little chapel
Someday when orange blossoms bloom
We'll have an old-fashioned wedding
A simple wedding for an old-fashioned bride and groom
[ANNIE:]
I wanna wedding in a big church with bridesmaids and flower girls
A lot of ushers in tailcoats, reporters and photographers
A ceremony by a bishop who will tie the knot and say
"Do you agree to love and honor?" Love and honor, yes, but not obey
I wanna wedding ring surrounded by diamonds in platinum
A big reception at the Waldorf with champagne and caviar
I wanna wedding like the Vanderbilts have, ev'rything big, not small
If I can't have that kind of a wedding I don't wanna get married at all
[Coda:]
[FRANK:]
We'll have an old-fashioned wedding
[ANNIE:]
If it's not a big wedding I don't wanna get married at all

song performed by by Irving Berlin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A strange e.mail from the Devil!

A groomsman is one of the male attendants to the groom in a wedding ceremony. The term usher is more common in the UK while the term 'groomsman' is considered somewhat lower-middle- class and used by those who have adopted the term from America.[citation needed] Usually the groom selects his closest friends and relatives to serve as groomsmen, and it is considered an honor to be selected. From his groomsmen, the groom usually chooses one to serve as best man.

For a wedding with many guests, the groom may also ask other male friends and relatives to act as ushers without otherwise participating in the wedding ceremony; their sole task is ushering guests to their seats before the ceremony. Ushers may also be hired for very large weddings.

In a military officer's wedding, the roles of groomsmen are replaced by swordsmen of the sword honor guard. They are usually picked as close personal friends of the groom who have served with him. Their role includes forming the traditional saber arch for the married couple and guests to walk through.

[email protected]
You'll be surprised Pen-pusher!
How I found your e.mail address,
Specially I collect bard's whereabouts
As I am very fond of poetry!
I read your profile and that's why
I am sending this invitation.
My one and only daughter marries soon
And the Bridegroom's party suggest you as a Groomsman
Because he knows you since in the Army.
Please reply us soon your availability.
-Devil de Morales
I replied him in brief.
Many thanks indeed for your valuable selection
But I have some regrets of my old Gabardine suit
Recently I wore for the Royal Wedding!
I have few rich relatives here
But they are not in good terms with me
As I am poor?
Otherwise I could have borrow one of their best suits and a Limousine!
With best regards,
Poor Pen-pusher!

for the silent bard couple Alison & Jerry!

poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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The Juggler of God

Back in the age of faith
when most lived in homes of sod
There lived a humble man
They called the juggler of God.

He was just a simple juggler
He could not read or write.
He performed his simple tricks
for children’s laughter and delight.

In return for food and shelter-
for he had little use for gold-
He travelled from town to town
until he at last grew old.

When arthritis swelled his joints
He grew stooped, his fingers cold
When at last his gifts had failed him
He turned attention to his soul.

In the order of Saint Benedict
The kind Abbot gave him place
Though he barely knew the prayers
His simple mind was full of grace.

In the chapel of Our Lady
The Juggler prayed there in the Aisle
Bemoaning his inability
to entertain the holy child.

He felt warmth in his fingers
A quick release from pain
He reached into his leather sack
for the objects of his trade.

There before the altar
The brother juggled for the Lord
It was to be his last performance
with a heavenly reward.

Back in the age of faith
when most lived in homes of sod
There lived a humble man
They called the juggler of God.

poem by John F. McCullagh
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The time

Wedding was over;
Brought home was the bride,
With whom came a maid,
To serve her as an aid.

Days rolled;
As honey, appeared the bride;
As savour, moved about the maid,
As a rule, in a household.

Time lapsed;
The bride shed her charm
And the maid ruled calm
In their wait at the groom.

Event happened;
The groom went blasé
With the honey in use
And the savour was in wait for use.

Fate played;
The bride in the race ran first
But the maid ended first.
The bride was aghast.

It is a game;
The diminutive waxes;
The gigantic wanes
In the field of time.
07.04.97

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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