Love Sonnet 180 The lake's water sparkles in placid bliss,
The lake's water sparkles in placid bliss,
As bright sunlight reflects from new ripples,
Like lips of bride kept waiting for a kiss,
While groom finds sweet delay in her dimples;
Gently blows the breeze, playful in its moods,
To skim the trees of withered leaves to shed,
Beneath the boughs, they pile throughout the woods,
That now, Summer as seen has almost fled;
My heart desires to keep this scene intact,
Of when the skies still blaze of Springtime light,
When you as bride, figured in every act,
As this lone audience basks in great delight;
......Curtains did fall, but this play still proceeds,
......And would do so though its playtime exceeds.
poem by Reyvrex Questor Reyes
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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 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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Golden Rain
Summer gleams in heated rays,
across the shimmering plain.
Awaiting autumn's cooling breeze,
when leaves fall ~ like golden rain.
Rows and rows of harvest lay,
a bounty's sweet repose.
Fate sealed by the reaper's hand,
when the wind of autumn blows.
Shaded with a timeless hue,
day sings sweet summer's refrain.
Awaiting autumn's cooling breeze,
when leaves fall ~ like golden rain.
Fiery flame of sun ~ now set
upon fields of summery bliss,
below horizons pinkly lit ~
by summer's parting kiss.
How fair those days of summer now.
Its warmth will not remain.
How soon the autumn ~ will take its place,
when leaves fall ~ like golden rain.
poem by Hazelmarie Elliott
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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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My Bride That Is To Be
O soul of mine, look out and see
My bride, my bride that is to be!
Reach out with mad, impatient hands,
And draw aside futurity
As one might draw a veil aside--
And so unveil her where she stands
Madonna-like and glorified--
The queen of undiscovered lands
Of love, to where she beckons me--
My bride--my bride that is to be.
The shadow of a willow-tree
That wavers on a garden-wall
In summertime may never fall
In attitude as gracefully
As my fair bride that is to be;--
Nor ever Autumn's leaves of brown
As lightly flutter to the lawn
As fall her fairy-feet upon
The path of love she loiters down.--
O'er drops of dew she walks, and yet
Not one may stain her sandal wet--
Aye, she might _dance_ upon the way
Nor crush a single drop to spray,
So airy-like she seems to me,--
My bride, my bride that is to be.
I know not if her eyes are light
As summer skies or dark as night,--
I only know that they are dim
With mystery: In vain I peer
To make their hidden meaning clear,
While o'er their surface, like a tear
That ripples to the silken brim,
A look of longing seems to swim
All worn and wearylike to me;
And then, as suddenly, my sight
Is blinded with a smile so bright,
Through folded lids I still may see
My bride, my bride that is to be.
Her face is like a night of June
Upon whose brow the crescent-moon
Hangs pendant in a diadem
Of stars, with envy lighting them.--
And, like a wild cascade, her hair
Floods neck and shoulder, arm and wrist,
Till only through a gleaming mist
I seem to see a siren there,
With lips of love and melody
And open arms and heaving breast
Wherein I fling myself to rest,
The while my heart cries hopelessly
For my fair bride that is to be....
Nay, foolish heart and blinded eyes!
My bride hath need of no disguise.--
But, rather, let her come to me
In such a form as bent above
My pillow when in infancy
I knew not anything but love.--
O let her come from out the lands
Of Womanhood--not fairy isles,--
And let her come with Woman's hands
And Woman's eyes of tears and smiles,--
With Woman's hopefulness and grace
Of patience lighting up her face:
And let her diadem be wrought
Of kindly deed and prayerful thought,
That ever over all distress
May beam the light of cheerfulness.--
And let her feet be brave to fare
The labyrinths of doubt and care,
That, following, my own may find
The path to Heaven God designed.--
O let her come like this to me--
My bride--my bride that is to be.
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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Honey moon Forever
The bell had rang, the bride in cloud nine
Heaven's gate a jar, the bride groom in cloud nine
Sweet is a heart that yearned, a heart that conquered
Life of bliss, the love of sweet heart conquered
Celebration jewel in worth of sunsets wait
Honeymoon a far, an island in Indian ocean all for wait
The bride's eyes sparkled, a step in ferry
Bridegroom in delight sighed, with a step in ferry
Swallows flew and waves called the ferry pulled
In hurricane, ferry with lovers in bottom sea pulled
Breaking news, everybody on board had flown to sky forever
Tears filled cheeks, lovers in honey moon forever.
poem by Charles Jagongo Ogola
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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 Lake
Water lilies load all over
The blue lake amid the woods,
That imparts, while in white circles
Startling, to a boat its moods.
And along the strands I‘m passing
Listening, waiting, in unrest,
That she from the reeds may issue
And fall, gently, on my breast;
That we may jump in the little
Boat, while water‘s voices whelm
All our feelings; that enchanted
I may drop my oars and helm;
That all charmed we may be floating
While moon‘s kindly light surrounds
Us, winds cause the reeds to rustle
And the waving water sounds.
But she does not come; abandoned,
Vainly I endure and sigh
Lonely, as the water lilies
On the blue lake ever lie.
poem by Mihai Eminescu from Poems (Poesii) (September 1876), translated by Dimitrie Cuclin
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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We Are To Play The Game Of Death
WE are to play the game of death to-night, my bride and I.
The night is black, the clouds in the sky are capricious, and the waves are raving at sea.
We have left our bed of dreams, flung open the door and come out, my bride and I.
We sit upon a swing, and the storm winds give us a wild push from behind.
My bride starts up with fear and delight, she trembles and clings to my breast.
Long have I served her tenderly.
I made for her a bed of flowers and I closed the doors to shut out the rude light from her eyes.
I kissed her gently on her lips and whispered softly in her ears till she half swooned in languor.
She was lost in the endless mist of vague sweetness.
She answered not to my touch, my songs failed to arouse her.
To-night has come to us the call of the storm from the wild.
My bride has shivered and stood up, she has clasped my hand and come out.
Her hair is flying in the wind, her veil is fluttering, her garland rustles over her breast.
The push of death has swung her into life.
We are face to face and heart to heart, my bride and I.
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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A Suttee
GATHER her raven hair in one rich cluster,
Let the white champac light it, as a star
Gives to the dusky night a sudden lustre,
Shining afar.
Shed fragrant oils upon her fragrant bosom,
Until the breathing air around grows sweet;
Scatter the languid jasmine's yellow blossom
Beneath her feet.
Those small white feet are bare—too soft are they
To tread on aught but flowers; and there is roll'd
Round the slight ankle, meet for such display,
The band of gold.
Chains and bright stones are on her arms and neck;
What pleasant vanities are linked with them,
Of happy hours, which youth delights to deck
With gold and gem.
She comes! So comes the Moon, when she has found
A silvery path wherein thro' heaven to glide.
Fling the white veil—a summer cloud—around;
She is a bride!
And yet the crowd that gather at her side
Are pale, and every gazer holds his breath.
Eyes fill with tears unbidden, for the bride—
The bride of Death!
She gives away the garland from her hair,
She gives the gems that she will wear no more;
All the affections, whose love-signs they were,
Are gone before.
The red pile blazes—let the bride ascend,
And lay her head upon her husband's heart,
Now in a perfect unison to blend—
No more to part.
poem by Letitia Elizabeth Landon
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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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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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The Hunter of the Uruguay to his Love
Would'st thou be happy, would'st thou be free,
Come to our woody islands with me!
Come, while the summer sun is high,
Beneath the peach tree's shade to lie;
Or thy hunter will shield thee the live-long day
In his hut of reeds from the scorching ray.
There countless birds with wings of light
Shall flit and glitter before thy sight,
And their songs from the stately palm trees nigh
Shall charm thee with ceaseless melody.
The Cayman shall not lurk within
To steal around thy bed;
But the leopard shall yield his spotted skin
That thy couch may be warmly spread.
The river-serpent, with glittering coil,
Shall plunge beneath the tide;
And the Ao shall shun the happy isle
That hails my gentle bride.
Thou shalt list to the hymn of the forest choir
As eve comes gently on,
How the woods resound
With the lengthen'd sound,
Till in distance it is gone.
Thou shalt mark the ounce in his leafy shade,
How he lures his finny prey—
Whose colours, in the gleam display'd,
Illumine the wat'ry way.
The bright dorado shall glitter by
With scales of gold and blue,
As the lucid waters tremblingly
Reflect each varying hue.
Come, my beloved, delay no more;
I linger for thee upon the shore.
Fear not the rocks that darken our course;
Our canoes are swift and strong:
Fear not the eddy's hurrying force;
We shall dart, like light, along.
The willows are waving to hail us home;
When the hunter and his bride shall come:
All the joys of summer stay for thee—
Oh, come to our woody islands with me.
poem by Louisa Stuart Costello
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In Autumn
The leaves are many under my feet,
And drift one way.
Their scent of death is weary and sweet.
A flight of them is in the grey
Where sky and forest meet.
The low winds moan for sad sweet years;
The birds sing all for pain,
Of a common thing, to weary ears,--
Only a summer's fate of rain,
And a woman's fate of tears.
I walk to love and life alone
Over these mournful places,
Across the summer overthrown,
The dead joys of these silent faces,
To claim my own.
I know his heart has beat to bright
Sweet loves gone by;
I know the leaves that die to-night
Once budded to the sky;
And I shall die from his delight.
O leaves, so quietly ending now,
You heard the cuckoos sing.
And I will grow upon my bough
If only for a spring,
And fall when the rain is on my brow.
O tell me, tell me ere you die,
Is it worth the pain?
You bloomed so fair, you waved so high;
Now that the sad days wane,
Are you repenting where you lie?
I lie amongst you, and I kiss
Your fragrance mouldering.
O dead delights, is it such bliss,
That tuneful Spring?
Is love so sweet, that comes to this?
Kiss me again as I kiss you;
Kiss me again;
For all your tuneful nights of dew,
In this your time of rain,
For all your kisses when Spring was new.
You will not, broken hearts; let be.
I pass across your death
To a golden summer you shall not see,
And in your dying breath
There is no benison for me.
There is an autumn yet to wane,
There are leaves yet to fall,
Which, when I kiss, may kiss again,
And, pitied, pity me all for all,
And love me in mist and rain.
poem by Alice Meynell
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A Warm Summer Breeze
The trees whisper in the breeze
The forest peaceful, quiet, and serene.
The warm breeze like a soft caress,
Momentarily eliminating all stress.
Without delay it carries on
Leaving the place in silence when it's gone.
A summer day, a summer breeze,
Softly whispered through the trees.
The summer breeze, softly it comes,
Quickly it leaves,
Causing soft whispers in the trees.
It came and soon left, a warm summer breeze.
poem by Theo Townend
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The 'Poem A Day' Project ~ Day 148
The Bride holds her flowers and straightens her veil
The Groom cleans his whiskers and straightens his tail
The Tiny biscuit box church is full of light
The bells chime loudly, the sun shines bright
The two families of mice sit either side
As the groom mouse waits for his bride inside
She arrives making the wedding complete
Dress that’s a white sock with holes for her feet
The priest mouse continues, being well versed
The rings are passed over as had been rehearsed
A mouse in the pews can’t stop her cough
So she is quickly, quietly lead off
The kiss is taken the crowd all cheer
So joyful that this day is here
The couple leave and all pile outside
A stretched white roller skate for a ride
Then at the reception with all the relations
Forgotten the days stress and frustrations
Shaking their tails on the dance floor
Begging the DJ to play some more
A buffet of nibbles, the most they could make
And three tiers of cheese form the wedding cake
Whatever the animal from human to mice
Sharing your life makes it twice as nice
poem by Flying Lemming
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The Mouse Wedding
The Bride holds her flowers and straightens her veil
The Groom cleans his whiskers and straightens his tail
The Tiny biscuit box church is full of light
The bells chime loudly, the sun shines bright
The two families of mice sit either side
As the groom mouse waits for his bride inside
She arrives making the wedding complete
Dress that’s a white sock with holes for her feet
The priest mouse continues, being well versed
The rings are passed over as had been rehearsed
A mouse in the pews can’t stop her cough
So she is quickly, quietly lead off
The kiss is taken the crowd all cheer
So joyful that this day is here
The couple leave and all pile outside
A stretched white roller skate for a ride
Then at the reception with all the relations
Forgotten the days stress and frustrations
Shaking their tails on the dance floor
Begging the DJ to play some more
A buffet of nibbles, the most they could make
And three tiers of cheese form the wedding cake
Whatever the animal from human to mice
Sharing your life makes it twice as nice
poem by Flying Lemming
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The Red Dress In A Breeze
Caressed to enfold your beautiful body the gentle breeze
Seems attracted to skim your every curve tightening your dress
To a Carmen’s level, provocative alluring, sensuous,
The stunning flowers behind you smile, inhaling your presence,
The red dress crowned with your shining black hair
Blocks out everything the eye can see except your lips.
This without a word beckons I to kiss,
The evening curtains close on the moon
Winking then casting shadows for I to draw near,
The red dress glows in the dark
Both our arms gently hold each other,
We say nothing
Only
That kiss of bliss, amore,
Imagination makes love.
poem by Ken e Hall
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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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The Bird's Release
Go forth, for she is gone!
With the golden light of her wavy hair,
She is gone to the fields of the viewless air;
She hath left her dwelling lone!
Her voice hath pass'd away!
It hath pass'd away like a summer breeze,
When it leaves the hills for the far blue seas,
Where we may not trace its way.
Go forth, and like her be free!
With thy radiant wing, and thy glancing eye,
Thou hast all the range of the sunny sky,
And what is our grief to thee?
Is it aught ev'n to her we mourn?
Doth she look on the tears by her kindred shed?
Doth she rest with the flowers o'er her gentle head,
Or float on the light wind borne?
We know not-but she is gone!
Her step from the dance, her voice from the song,
And the smile of her eye from the festal throng;-
-She hath left her dwelling lone!
When the waves at sunset shine,
We may hear thy voice, amidst thousands more,
In the scented woods of our glowing shore,
But we shall not know 'tis thine!
Ev'n so with the lov'd one flown!
Her smile in the starlight may wander by,
Her breath may be near in the wind's low sigh,
Around us-but all unknown.
Go forth, we have loos'd thy chain!
We may deck thy cage with the richest flowers,
Which the bright day rears in our eastern bowers,
But thou wilt not be lur'd again.
Ev'n thus may the summer pour
All fragrant things on the land's green breast,
And the glorious earth like a bride be dress'd,
But it wins her back no more!
poem by Felicia Dorothea Hemans
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