Tuesday, April 3, 2012

The Bridegroom, Pillow in Hand - 3/30

I didn't use a prompt yesterday, but today's prompt posted over at NaPoWriMo.net definitely hit me in the right spot.

The prompt challenges as follows:
April marks the beginning of “wedding season,” and so I challenge you today to write an epithalamium (somethimes also called an epithalamion). This is nothing more or less than a poem celebrating a wedding. The first such poems were popular in the classical world, and were typically addressed to brides. The modern versions are a bit more expansive, and needn’t address just the bride, but can address the whole idea of the wedding, both partners, weddings in general, etc. Your epithalamium could be about an upcoming wedding, about the wedding of an already-married couple, or some sort of imaginary ur-wedding, if you like. No particular form, length, or rhyme scheme required!
To that end, I've got a really...special poem for today. Hope you enjoy.

The Bridegroom, Pillow in Hand

To my wedding night-lulled bride,
locks, blonde tendrils consuming
the purple of rumpled bedding,
I thought it would never come.
Your swanny neck,
the skimming digits of my adoration,
I thought it would never come.

I longed to have you close as this,
to hold you, still and perfect,
and to that end, matrimony’s oaths
I gladly mouthed. Gladly vowed,
for bound I was since glimpsing
such an emerald gaze, eyes
now flawless in their wide
and portraiture-wont gleam.

You left me no other choice,
no other option once I saw
the gossamer of your skin
and how sunlight
made a moon of you, glowing
oh so slightly,
these now porcelaneous cheeks.

You, I both will have and hold.
Know those words I’ve meant ever
since your radiance first burned me,
but, my bride, worry not
for sickness or for health.
Beauty such as your naked form,
sinuous and cooling underneath
my roving rapture,
no longer has a thing to gain
from health or lose to sickness.
Now, my truly perfect love,
my bride, forever breathless –
downily succoured, your fragile heart –
not even death can us two part.


  1. The more I read of your work I see talent. The third stanza wherein is the phrase ...and how sunlight made a moon of you...is just "to good." There is magic in the syntax of its phrasing. Glad I always click on your Facebook posts. This time I found a treasure of yours--this your blog.

    1. Thank you very much for your comments and encouragement, Emmett. I'm glad you enjoyed reading the poem.