Va Va Voom
Some men have shaven their heads full of hair.
To keep some thinking it's a style to shave them.
But thinning hair attracts some folks to stare.
And vanity is mainly known for women,
Who groom!
With nails they manicure and shoes that shine.
Colognes expensive are picked for the scents sent!
High maintenance is now the bottom line,
For men groomed.
To be swooned.
Some men have shaven their heads full of hair.
Va va voom.
To keep some thinking it's a style to shave them.
But thinning hair attracts some folks to stare.
Va va voom.
And vanity is mainly known for women,
Who groom!
With intent to be swooned.
Ooooohhh...
Va va voom.
Groom to swoon.
Both...
Groom to swoon.
Va va voom.
Groom to swoon.
Both...
Groom to swoon.
Some men have shaven their heads full of hair.
To keep some thinking it's a style to shave them.
But thinning hair attracts some folks to stare.
And vanity is mainly known for women,
Who groom!
Although there are high maintenanced men there too...
Seeking to be swooned!
Oh? Oh? Oh? Ooooohhh...
Va va voom.
Groom to swoon.
Both...
Groom to swoon.
Va va voom.
Groom to swoon.
Both...
Groom to swoon.
Va va voom.
Groom to swoon.
Both...
Groom to swoon.
Va va voom.
Groom to swoon.
Both...
Groom to swoon.
Va va voom!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Bride's Entry Is A Storm
The entry of the bride to the groom's house:
Mother moved closer than before to the groom.
Sisters showed extra concerns to the groom.
They are nervous about the bride's influence.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The Lonely Groom
The family will forever remember
This day, a sunny morning
The family have gathered
The music is playing
The breadwinner of the family
Dressed in black suit
And a crystal white inner
A perfect groom waiting
For a perfect bride
Where is the bride?
There is no bride for
A motionless body
The lonely groom lay still
Laughing is replaced by weeping
The lonely groom takes away
The happiness that once
Bestowed upon the family.
poem by Duku Akwasi
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Rough Justice story poem
Squire Cholmondely I presume
Was not prepared to meet his doom
when he was slaughtered by his groom.
Whose wife he made advances to
a thing no gentleman would do.
He got no more than he was due.
The groom decided he must pay
and slit his weasand one fine day
Then hid his corpse without delay.
Nobody liked the squire much
and he was often out of touch.
There was no hue and cry as such.
Nobody thought he might be dead.
The groom had dropped him so he said
to catch the coach for Maidenhead.
Where he indulged his appetite
for painted ladies of the night
Which he assumed to be his right.
The groom confessed on his death bed
that Squire Cholmondely was long dead
The priest absolved him readily.
The groom now dead had not revealed
where the body was concealed.
So that remains a mystery.
Now to this day nobody knows
the hiding place which the groom chose.
He hid it with great secrecy
Nobody cares sufficiently
to try to find where it might be
There’d be no useful purpose served.
The squire got what he deserved
I must conclude its for the best
Nobody knows where his bones rest.
Perhaps one day by happenstance
He will be found by some mischance.
Buried in some unhallowed plot.
But I would rather he was not.
The whole affair should be forgot
The past is past beyond recall
and I for one don’t care at all.
My granddad did what I would do
to anyone insulting you.
Sunday,08 November 2009
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
Cholmondely is pronounced Chumly
For some obscure reason
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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A Bride
I am a bride of Christ, said Sister Bede;
He kisses me with a thousand stars.
My bridesmaids are the angels
At elbows and head; the wind
Of the four corners my choristers;
The wounds of my groom, my wedding ring;
The hammer on the nails in His hands and feet
Are reminders of His love for me, I swoon
At His touch, for His love is overmuch.
I am but a grain of sand beneath His feet,
An echo in the desert of His wanderings,
A lost sheep of his multifold flock; He holds me
In His arms when I am found, angels in His kingdom
Rejoice at this, but I am as dew
Upon the morning grass,
A speck of dust in the world’s whirl,
A mere grain in His creation of worlds.
I sit and wonder at my gain,
My bridegroom’s touch, His saving arms,
His blessed hands, His finger pointing
At His sacred heart. Nothing in the universe
Can match His power, nothing can separate me
From His boundless love: I feel myself as saved
From darkness and gloom, my sins mar my skin,
My faithlessness taints my breath,
My lack of love hangs in my hair;
But He is my groom; His love washes away
All that taints; His coming is as the sun
On a morning’s break; He has brought me home
To my heart’s desire; He has set my soul alight
With His love’s deep fire.
poem by Terry Collett
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Soon
Soon we'll be free from all this gloom.
No need to feel impending doom.
Holding hands in loving swoon.
Peaceful feelings with so much room.
To live and breathe with time to groom.
The greatest roles we have assumed.
Soon the time will be just right.
For eachother we'll live and die.
Knowing we were worth the tears we cried.
Fighting through the hateful lies.
That others flung as they passed by.
Soon we'll see what's good indeed.
Were all we'll ever really need.
Take heart my dear and have no fear.
Soon the lonliness will disappear.
poem by Michael McParland
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The Marriage Is Sacred
‘Give me your hand that I may walk
In the light of faith you invest in me.’
Shows the groom to the bride by his look.
‘Take my hand that I may walk
In the path of love you install in me.’
Nods the bride to the groom in silence.
(15.06.2011)
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Nearer to Me Than A Moontide Swoon
Nearer to me than a moontide swoon,
And dearer to me than a dream.
She is fairer to me than a spring's full bloom;
Nearer to me than a moontide swoon.
The winds of dark winter may howl soon
And still could not chill her bright sunny beam;
Nearer to me than a moontide swoon,
And dearer to me than a dream.
-2005
poem by David Zvekic
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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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A Most Unusual Wedding
Because the bridegroom couldn’t be found
the bride was driven continually around.
Dickie and Melanie were marrying in style;
the first chimpanzees to walk down the aisle.
A reception at the classiest hotel Torbay,
followed by a honeymoon in Zimbabwe.
The best-man also named Dickie was with the groom,
but in a nearby hospital waiting room.
Earlier that morning there had been an accident,
which left the groom’s legs broken and bent.
The best-man phoned Melanie to let her know,
so off to the hospital she did quickly go.
With both legs now in traction and suffering with pain,
Dickie the groom did his best to explain.
He also suggested that the wedding should go ahead
and she should marry the best-man instead.
Abhorred by what her beloved fiancé had said,
she exclaimed, 'that chimp', she would never wed.
However, by the time he had finished to explain,
she accepted the proposal as simple and plain.
She went outside and put it to the best-man,
and he reluctantly agreed to the plan.
They returned to the church and spoke to the vicar,
who agreed to a proxy without a bicker.
The wedding and reception went without a hitch
but the trip to Zimbabwe had to be ditched.
At the reception, the bride explained the situation,
and thanked the best-man for his co-operation.
The proxy groom stood up and nervously said,
that he would’ve swopped the ceremony for a hospital bed,
and that one of the things in life that he was always dreading
was the thought of being a spare Dickie, at a monkeys wedding.
poem by Orlando Belo
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You May Have Obtained Nama
You may have obtained nama, but without Rama
Your title of Vaishnava is barren like a cradle in a childless home
Or a marriage procession without groom!
Lord resides within you, but you couldn't discern him;
You wander aimlessly thinking him to be afar;
You calculate about the One beyond the calculations;
You limit the Illimitable
And in this state of twoness, you count your futile beads!
You may have obtained nama, but without Rama
Your title of Vaishnava is barren like a cradle in a childless home
Or a marriage procession without groom!
You try to be Harijan without having Hari!
How can pangs of hunger subside by a bash of hollow words?
How can throes of separation subside by mere donning of ascetic clothes?
It is like the futile roaring of rainless clouds!
You may have obtainednama, but without Rama
Your title of Vaishnava is barren like a cradle in a childless home
Or a marriage procession without groom!
You think you have become harijan by merely singing lord's praises,
You try to rival a swan, when your deeds are those of a crow!
The lord will indeed disregard you!
You may have obtainednama, but without Rama
Your title of Vaishnava is barren like a cradle in a childless home
Or a marriage procession without groom!
Says Narsinh, only he is worth our obeisance,
Whose mind has dissolved into the formless;
In whom the delusion of the world of differences is shattered
And in whom the flame of renunciation is resplendent.
You may have obtained nama, but without Rama
Your title of Vaishnava is like a cradle in a childless home
Or a marriage procession without the groom!
poem by Narsinh Mehta
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His Lock Of Hair
I looked at him and thought to myself
I must keep a lock of his hair.
So I clipped it while he was asleep
for there would soon be none to spare.
I remember when I saw him first
his hair was what caught my sight,
so full and wavy catching the light
as dark as a moonless night.
I would run my fingers through it
and see a smile on his face.
I would watch and see him groom it.
Not a strand was out of place.
Little by little it was not as full
and the treasure I would see
was slowly leaving as days went by
and I knew eventually
that his beautiful crown of glory
would become a thing of the past.
And so the lock of hair I clipped
was saved so it would last.
For now that his hair has fallen away.
I show him the lock I did save.
He smiles again as he's done before
as he finishes his morning shave.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Butterfly
Constantly creepin' caterpillar,
Still a swoon in a cocoon.
Soon you might emerge,
And you're made to emerge.
A little longing to love, lush,
Starving for affection.
Hidden by the size of my perfection,
With one exception...
If you wanna butterfly,
You gotta be a butterfly.
You know that nothing falls out of the sky.
Still a swoon in a cocoon.
If you wanna butterfly,
You gotta be a butterfly.
You know that nothing falls out of the sky.
How do I hide somebody from the great blue wide?
I'll come and sweep you up,
'Cause your time ain't up, be patient.
Now you see the sun is rising and your realizing,
Wise enough to know,
That you gotta let yourself grow.
If you wanna butterfly,
You gotta be a butterfly.
You know that nothing falls out of the sky.
Still a swoon in a cocoon.
If you wanna butterfly,
You gotta be a butterfly.
You know that nothing falls out of the sky.
What goes around comes back around;
This is nature's way.
Be conscious of what you do,
Because you will be repaid.
If you put turnips in the ground,
You will not harvest grapes.
You are what you attracted,
And this is why I say;
Uhhhhhh...
If you wanna a butterfly,
You gotta be a butterfly.
You know that nothing falls out of the sky.
Still a swoon in a cocoon.
If you wanna a butterfly,
You gotta be a butterfly.
You know that nothing falls out of the sky.
Constantly creepin' caterpillar,
Still a swoon in a cocoon.
Soon you might emerge,
And be made to emerge.
Maybe...
Still a swoon in a cocoon (repeated MANY times!)
Uhhhhhh...
song performed by by India Arie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hindu Wedding On A Jasmine Day
The season of JASMINE is blooming.
Wedding is on a day of JASMINE.
The couple are ready for the holy-bond.
Guests are ready with their blessing-band.
Baskets of garlands and stringed JASMINE,
With decorative JASMINE tassles is pleasing.
The fragrance of JASMINE is ambrosial!
Breathtaking! JASMINES' aroma is celestial.
Her long plait padded with JASMINES strung,
Atop with strands of JASMINE being swung,
The bride is given a garland of JASMINE.
Also the 'groom is given a garland of JASMINE.
The family deity is adorned with JASMINE.
The guests are given strands of JASMINE.
The couple garland each other in heck.
The 'groom ties an yellow thread around bride's neck.
The priest makes the groom by seven steps,
Promise to guard his spouse in life's ups.
Splattering holy rice and scenty JASMINE,
All bless 'LONG SMELLY LIKE JASMINE'!
poem by Indira Renganathan
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The barbar down the lane
Most time as much a scissor talk
Call for long legs and hair walk
A thing that happens all the time
To every pocket that has least a dim
The man change a hair one
With smile and happiness morning in line
A hair enters and 'voom' disappears
The man inside with hair on repairs
Our barbar down the lane
Is a man with no shame
My hair I dedicate to him
And mine is down with all vim
The everday I wish to enter
And embrass the comb in my hair
This then I know it him
The barbar down the lane
poem by Henry Nii Ayi Cobblah
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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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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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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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The Wedding
The father who sired her handed her over
the crack-handed orchestra played
The bride and the groom stood shoulder-to-shoulder
as the ill-starred wedding was made
She lifted her veil as the groom gently kissed her
and all did appear to be well
But the limousine driver heard every harsh whisper
as they drove to the country hotel
In the Grand Hotel ballroom the guests were assembling
the champagne like tapwater flowed
The men wearing top hats, and fop coats and top coats
the women in bustles and bows
The bride? jealous sister sat alone in her place
and sneered as the couple came in
The maitre-de coughed and said ?lease take your places,
the Banquet is about to begin?
The street doors burst open and an army of footman
swept in bearing salvers and trays
Fiddlers and clowns went from table to table
amid black smoke and cigarette haze
Noone saw the best man as he secretly winked
at the bride? jealous sister it seemed
And then cried out ?aiter, Bring me more drink
and more Marilyn Monroe ice-cream?
When the wine had been poured and the tables were cleared
the toasts and the speeches began
The bride and groom cut the cake, everyone cheered!
then all eyes fell on the best man.
He climbed off his chair, and he licked his cracked lips
and declared in a voice cold and dry
??he tricked and hijacked him, with guilt she trapped him
this day is a sham and a lie?
Herfather leapt up with a curse and a roar
and slew the best man in the head
The groom cried ?laggard!?and with a flash of his sword
his father-in-law fell down dead
The bride ran screaming in floods of bright tears
and collapsed at the foot of the stairs
Where her sister was waiting with scissors and shears
and hacked off every inch of her hair.
Up on the roof sat seven fat crows, the moon rose low in the west.
the groom was arrested still in his wedding clothes
And hanged in his pants and his vest
the bald-headed bride bought a ticket to Spain
And eloped with a wig-makers son
while her jealous mad sister, riven with shame
Became a nun!
song performed by by Waterboys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Grooms Still Waiting At The Altar
Prayed in the ghetto with my face in the cement,
Heard the last moan of a boxer, seen the massacre of the innocent
Felt around for the light switch, became nauseated.
She was walking down the hallway while the walls deteriorated.
East of the jordan, hard as the rock of gibraltar,
I see the burning of the page, curtain risin on a new age,
See the groom still waitin at the altar.
Try to be pure at heart, they arrest you for robbery,
Mistake your shyness for aloofness, your shyness for snobbery,
Got the message this morning, the one that was sent to me
About the madness of becomin what one was never meant to be.
West of the jordan, east of the rock of gibraltar,
I see the burning of the stage,
Curtain risin on a new age,
See the groom still waitin at the altar.
Dont know what I can say about claudette that wouldnt come back to haunt me,
Finally had to give her up bout the time she began to want me.
But I know God has mercy on them who are slandered and humiliated.
Id a-done anything for that woman if she didnt make me feel so obligated.
West of the jordan, west of the rock of gibraltar,
I see the burning of the cage,
Curtain risin on a new stage,
See the groom still waitin at the altar.
Put your hand on my head, baby, do I have a temperature?
I see people who are supposed to know better standin around like furniture.
Theres a wall between you and what you want and you got to leap it,
Tonight you got the power to take it, tomorrow you wont have the power to
Keep it.
West of the jordan, east of the rock of gibraltar,
I see the burning of the stage, curtain risin on a new age,
See the groom still waitin at the altar.
Cities on fire, phones out of order,
Theyre killing nuns and soldiers, theres fighting on the border.
What can I say about claudette?
Aint seen her since january,
She could be respectably married or running a whorehouse in buenos aires.
West of the jordan, west of the rock of gibraltar,
I see the burning of the stage,
Curtain risin on a new age,
See the groom still waitin at the altar.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What A Wasted Look
you groom yourself
put gel on your hair
spray some perfume
on your whole body
and you wait
she passes by
not noticing
the way you look
the way you smell
you curse yourself
on this madness
she is also eaten
by the monsters
of her own sadness.
square and fair
right?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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