Wedding Poems

Romantic Awakenings

 Love is a game in which few fare well. 
Sometimes rules change while we’re playing.
Wish for perfection in one another
and you invite a cause to be felled.

Is there manhood who carries my passion?
Can this be too much hope that I’m asking?
I’ll give myself to a man worth having. 
But, never one who won’t share his heart.

My hero will know to be genteel. 
He will take his time in the courtship.
He must think of us as a team in play,
not as foe to overcome.

He’ll groom my mood with chosen direction,
not taking advantage of situation.
While he makes me feel like his queen,
I will grant his every wish.

 Where is woman who’ll feed my passion?
Can this be too much hope that I ask for?
I’ll give all to that woman worth having. 
But, not to one who won’t share hearts.

My lady will understand the art of pleasure
is in her head, not just in her chamber.
She can make me want to please her,
She is complement to our destination.

She relaxes the day thoroughly spent
with chaff and challenge and wit. 
She treats me as king of our hill
and I support her every wish.

The man of my dreams awaits me
as the dawning awaits the new day.
His stroking my skin warms the sunshine
While his kiss quenches brain enflamed.

Our children will reminisce his strength.
Their hearts will be strong and meek.
They will learn to be gentile to kindness
From the father that shows them such.

His forethought bears resemblance to artistry:
a sculpture of mind within mind.
His fortune is built for our future,
 while his present is clear fountainhead.

Woman of my dreams, vision waiting,
from the dusk of enchantment, awake.
I prepare for your proof as the sun shines.
I cool passions for you in the rains.

Our children will be of your character,
their lust for the Lord engrained. 
Educated in ways of deliverance,
demise to delusions of sin.

The skills of my damsel are artistry.
Her tapestries have value beyond pay.
The treasure of her cyme is timely,
and I wait for the opening display.

So drown us in sorrows a while,
and prepare our souls for each other. 
We seek in each other perfection
with promise to deliver the same.

The wait is worth the grand prize
of finding a jewel in our rough.
To find that perfect life love
means we polish reflections of us.

 C Taylor, Jr.

Seven’s a Charm

Out with the old; In with the hope  
that this one will be one to uphold.
Cupid or stupid has struck once again
cause I’m looking aisle right in the eye.

There’s failures among us;
but, this one has flung us.
Lucky Seven has sprurred our sides.

Seems this one will lay number seven to rest.
It took six times to find our best!
And ‘tween we two there’s seven head
to feed, and to need, and to tuck into bed. 

T’will be July when we say  “I do”.
Twill be the seventh name for you.
(’course women always start with a few) 

We argued about the topper of cake.
We worked real hard for common wedding date. 
The first place we tried refused our ordeal.
The invites are late. The color’s not teal. 

Our musician was to be third oldest one
until the bouts between step and son.
(and we’re still planning to get this done?) 

It must be true, how opposites attract.
Can wrinkles and starch really interact?
And talk about weird…this is fact:
all of our families want to witness the act. 

No disrespect. No disbelief.
Our ex-inlaws all sigh with relief!
And most plan attending our miracle to see. 

Yes, your thirds older sister,
the second’s whole litter.
my first and her date, past live-ins, and brothers.
Why, they all believe we’re deserving each other!  

Well darlin’ I tell you,
there’s love in them thrills:
blue eyes and goose bumps, prayers and chills. 

Love from the Father, smiling, (Sabbath’s rest);
love from two hearts beating in chests;
love’s tender touches in your caress;
love like we always knew to exist. 

Its onward and upward when we’re in ditches.
Some can’t be single. We need our hitches.
This time, there seems, there’s only dog bitches. 

For best, we rehearsed.
We’ve both seen our worst. 
Friends will realize our shrill consummate.
Why, with seven names, the Mexican Consulate 

has advised that you, Ms Irish, do qualify 
as honorary Hispanic citizen. Oh my!
Alas, we marry in dignity!                                                                

(I couldn't help myself. At least one of these needed to be funny! -CT)

Sweet Fruit

I gained more than I would know,  
on grand moment I met you.  
Who should guess the happened chance  
could cluster soul-mates, true?  

Even in the harder times,  
we grew toward one another.  
Thick as viand vineyard grows,  
our tendrils brace each other.  

Like archway latticed over walk,  
two sides complete through meeting.  
Both give rise, becoming shade  
for occasioned travelers’ resting.  

And when the time for trimming comes,  
as blooms no more establish,  
The buried wood of mature cuttings  
will, through prime sprouts, accomplish.  

C Taylor, Jr.  
01/06/2003  

Another Fine Day   

I asked for a miracle. The miracle became; 
not as I expected, not as I had prayed.
By setting loose a butterfly, cocoons fall away
opening hidden dreams of another fine day.

Oh Lord of endless love, preparing my place,
may rejoice be heard beyond my private space.
Great joy after hurt, like a mother’s birthing pains,
added to the man I am: reflection of your grace.

Trust a touch of faith in the Holder of our hopes,
who has a plan for life beyond those human chokes,
releasing our conditions; improving our convictions;
allowing deeper dreams of another fine day.

C Taylor, Jr.
08/26/2004