June is the traditional bridal month. It is Spring at its best. The sun which is not too hot, shines on the love between our hopeful couple. This poem is written in an “ottava Rima” format. There is no better way to express the highest point of relationship then in this Italian form of poetry. This poem has had its share of applause, so I present it to you once more.
Bride
by Lawrence Spiro
Love lays ready her gallant heart to him.
He approaches with care and touches her,
both now and forever in light or dim.
Quondam visions yield to her beauty pure,
waifing warmly past over ageless streams.
Two to be one under G-d each demur.
Nature eventuates her lifelong dreams.
They move together, all is as it seems.
He looks up to her, he echoes his plea.
His time moves quickly from winter to Spring
yearning that she will now set his heart free.
In his moist hand is love’s eternal ring,
as the rose bud nods for the dancing bee.
She answers the question to all these things
with hand extended, excited for this,
she says yes. He laughs, they embrace and kiss.
Cleaved as one, they exchange words worth singing.
With beating heart, he trembles with sweet joy.
She smiles long of this new beginning
knowing now stands a man erstwhile a boy.
He thinks of countless thoughts not thinking
about summer orapplause fall leaving doer.
She was taught about all of the seasons
all the promises and all the reasons.
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Pygmalion’s Abandoned Creation
by Willow DuBrovin
A void within, desolate null I was,
Conscience awakens, thoughts begin to buzz.
From bleak darkness to searing light,
Time suspended in petrifying plight.
Immobile, insensate, yet thoughts I think,
Contemplation ensues, and I begin to shrink.
Scrapes and echoes pierce my core,
Sensations sharp, a relentless roar.
What sudden sensations now I feel?
A touch, a hurt, a graze so real?
Smoothed and shaped, I sense my form,
Each sculpting stroke a newfound norm.
Senses bloom in my rigid being,
Ears, eyes, mouth, sensations freeing.
Human eyes meet mine in glee,
Molding wet clay, crafting me.
With curious wonder, tirelessly he molds,
A hunger intense, his work unfolds.
When his artistry once at last is done,
Sensations fade, leaving me with none.
My creators eyes linger with severe care,
Whispers of perfection, his love in the air.
His presence, a constant, a comfort with me,
He never strays far, he is all that I see.
Every night, he kneels by my side,
Praying to Gods, his wishes tied.
He wishes of my life, whatever it may mean,
Until one day, he no longer is unseen.
A blinding light before me shines,
Thoughts no longer in strained confines.
I fall, dazed, confused in haze,
Nerves shiver with petrifying blaze.
As quickly as sensations came to light,
The pain fades, leaving with flight.
Feeling new, feeling fresh, I seek my creator,
Reaching for me, my sacred anchor.
Tears glisten in his eyes so bright,
I’m all that’s perfect in his sight.
He showers me with love, teaches life’s lore,
Peace settles, strife exists no more.
I am all he wants, he all I need,
Once a void, his touch has me freed.
Blessed with life, upon me he bestowed,
Together, one, perfectly enclosed.
Created for him, I’m his design,
So my love pours, an endless line.
A perfect woman, he claims of me,
Why that his eyes begin to flee?
If I am his, his steadfast foundation,
Why this sense of abandoned creation?
No more loving linger, a distance grows,
A forgotten desire, his absence shows.
My coveted beauty, has it worn his gaze?
Crafted for him, a design once crazed.
Why seek others when I stand right here?
Forgotten fondness, a void draws near.
For what life if not entangled?
Abandoned heart, my existence mangled.
My newborn form crumbles with cracks embrace,
The void returns, taking my loveless forsaken place.
I once again a desolate void within,
Returning to the lonely state I once had been.
As my conscience slips away into the solum above,
Never again will I mistake desire for love.
