“A Wandering Odyssey of Thought During a Wedding and Reception”
Part I: A Passive Observation of the Bride:
The victory of the bride
Is complimented by a collection of matrimonial objects
And molded into a period landscape
Of wedding favors, invitations,
Bridal shoes and gloves,
Flowergirl jewelry,
Handkerchiefs, garters, tiaras, veils,
Bouquet holders, and an emergency kit
Containing nail polish, needle and thread,
Ibuprofen, and mints…
The bride, now married,
Brilliant in color,
Dangerously radiant and intelligent
While harboring the dark streaks
Of her past trials-
Receiving the adornments
Of love and affection-
More than all the water contained in the oceans
Spilling over the rim of vows
That today has been tipped
By the long broach of mutual perception,
Seeping into a broad area
Of future’s fabric,
Causing a lustrous finish
On the fair side of the gown
That catches the wind
Like a white sail.
Radiant heat accents her cool demeanor,
Done completely without money,
A scene destined for the silver plated photo album
Showcasing the most memorable snapshots.
The strong regional accent of the bride’s lineage
Is broken violently into scattered fragments,
Damaged and altered,
But the results drowning any grief and despair
By being free from their confines and
Ending the days of useless existence-
Like a rusty pin
On a shiny brooch floating
In a small fresh water stream
That is lost in the churning rapids
Of a large canyon river
And settles on the shore
Of a small fishing village…
The bride, mature and tolerant
With an added alluring aspect that perfection would only diminish
Shares the same parents as the bully
With the large ridge above his eyes,
Between yellow and red in color,
Hiding a chewy chocolate cake
In his harsh, cruel round hands
Not quite developed completely,
Who became a wild ox carrying the provisions
Of malicious intent, waiting,
Who then brayed and charged with malevolent horns
Upon my reluctant arrivals in his nightmares…
As the ceremony progresses
Small insects listen to the variations
In the timber of the voices
That swell on the surface of the lawn
Until they are dug up by a stubborn machine
Designed for moving earth
And operated by a large figure
Who is warmly dressed
Like a father rabbit
Living in a one story cottage
In the tall grass in the rear lot
Until he was caught
And sold to one who slaughters animals
And dresses them for food,
And who is extremely exhausted
At being the guardian of the accustomed barbarity
Of a ruthless period
At the end of a Cyclopean era
And whose thoughts never wander…
Part II: The Reception:
This festivity coincides
With irrational incoherent perplexities
Created by the anticipation and determined efforts
To add to the occasion
But fade in a final sea of accessories to accompany the event-
Cake toppers, server sets,
A guest book, wedding cameras, chiffon ribbon,
Toasting glasses and bridal purses
Decorated with keepsake wedding bells,
Along with the indispensable confetti, wedding bubbles,
Favor boxes, rice roses, and unity candles…
As the evening progresses
Unrelated topics are conversed as the festive fare is consumed cheerfully,
While deep explanations on the exposition
Of the business of trading compliments
Is intermixed with the grinding pity and condolences
That is relegated to the person
Who arrived without the proper wares
That are comfortable, convenient, and useful to the public,
Yet ineffectual in the occasional disturbance and uneasy turmoil
That unfolds in sociable miscommunications
But overcome by chatty, conversable people
Accustomed to the dense but concordant intercourse of society
In company with surrounding kindness
And agreeable companionship.
I desire to be deviously lured into an abstract, brief outburst
To the satisfaction of the more endowed contestants,
But I am the one who must make the first move
And cannot choose…
The bride takes the first dance,
Now a fluid refined animated sculpture
Of a white antelope in the Northern snow,
With bells chiming their frosty song
That now abruptly changes key as the melody is sung
By joyful but harsh voices
That had too much of the spiked juice from a tropical tree…
An angel resembling a child hovers,
Sharpening its arrows with a harmonious chisel
That shapes the chitchat and chivalry
And imbues them with hidden messages…
As I spy a swift, cunning wildcat
Pausing to imbibe a slice of the wedding cake
With cheese, deviled eggs, fried chicken, meatballs,
Pasta, sweet potatoes, and Champaign,
Who surrenders in solitude to the large multitude-
I must save her
With my shining armor, white steed, and plastic red rose;
I am a second too late
As my steed trips on my oversized hush puppies
And spills my drink unnoticed into the best man’s carnation.
A golden railed marble staircase
In the enormous reception hall
Successfully weaves its intended illusions
For the captured audience,
Crafted by a blend of knowing
Deranged architects
Who channeled their talents
Into foolish daggers of delicious lusts for power
For their clients,
Delicate and elegant,
Scrupulously caressing the idle time of the onlookers.
The Farewell- A New Beginning:
I grab my coat as it ends,
With no harm done to the bearing of the former mistress
In the coatroom,
I see she is condemned
To an abominable repose
In the chill of the damp wet blankets
Of false affections,
And with a last glance back I meet the bride’s smile
Now eased by the long final culmination
Of many smart choices
And the great timely efforts
Of lovers and friends.
wbiro