A Word To Husbands

To keep your marriage brimming With love in the loving cup, Whenever you’re wrong, admit it; Whenever you’re right, shut up.

Sonnet 116: Let Me Not To The Marriage Of True Minds

Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments. Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove. O no, it is an ever-fixèd mark That looks on tempests and is never shaken; It is the star to every wand'ring bark, Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken. Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks Within his bending sickle's compass come;

London

I wandered through each chartered street, Near where the chartered Thames does flow, A mark in every face I meet, Marks of weakness, marks of woe. In every cry of every man, In every infant's cry of fear, In every voice, in every ban, The mind-forged manacles I hear:

Habitation

Marriage is not a house or even a tent it is before that, and colder: the edge of the forest, the edge of the desert the unpainted stairs at the back where we squat

Affirmation

To grow old is to lose everything. Aging, everybody knows it. Even when we are young, we glimpse it sometimes, and nod our heads when a grandfather dies. Then we row for years on the midsummer pond, ignorant and content. But a marriage, that began without harm, scatters into debris on the shore, and a friend from school drops

Juliet's Soliloquy

Farewell!--God knows when we shall meet again. I have a faint cold fear thrills through my veins That almost freezes up the heat of life: I'll call them back again to comfort me;-- Nurse!--What should she do here? My dismal scene I needs must act alone.-- Come, vial.-- What if this mixture do not work at all? Shall I be married, then, to-morrow morning?-- No, No!--this shall forbid it:--lie thou there.--

Cinderella

You always read about it: the plumber with the twelve children who wins the Irish Sweepstakes. From toilets to riches. That story. Or the nursemaid, some luscious sweet from Denmark who captures the oldest son's heart. from diapers to Dior.

Indian Weavers

WEAVERS, weaving at break of day, Why do you weave a garment so gay? . . . Blue as the wing of a halcyon wild, We weave the robes of a new-born child. Weavers, weaving at fall of night, Why do you weave a garment so bright? . . . Like the plumes of a peacock, purple and green, We weave the marriage-veils of a queen.

The Flea

Mark but this flea, and mark in this, How little that which thou deny'st me is; It sucked me first, and now sucks thee, And in this flea, our two bloods mingled be; Thou knowest that this cannot be said A sin, nor shame, nor loss of maidenhead. Yet this enjoys before it woo, And pampered, swells with one blood made of two, And this, alas, is more than we would do. Oh stay, three lives in one flea spare,

A Fantasy

I'll tell you something: every day people are dying. And that's just the beginning. Every day, in funeral homes, new widows are born, new orphans. They sit with their hands folded, trying to decide about this new life. Then they're in the cemetery, some of them for the first time. They're frightened of crying, sometimes of not crying. Someone leans over, tells them what to do next, which might mean

The Wedding

O marriage-bells, your clamor tells Two weddings in one breath. SHE marries whom her love compels: - And I wed Goodman Death! My brain is blank, my tears are red; Listen, O God: - 'I will,' he said: - And I would that I were dead. Come groomsman Grief and bridesmaid Pain Come and stand with a ghastly twain. My Bridegroom Death is come o'er the meres

Call It A Good Marriage

Call it a good marriage - For no one ever questioned Her warmth, his masculinity, Their interlocking views; Except one stray graphologist Who frowned in speculation At her h's and her s's, His p's and w's. Though few would still subscribe

Brown Eyes

Brown eyes with sparkling light, Standing before me just to right, Inviting me near but not to fight, May be closer views and clear sight, I could see whole world in it, Two eyes as if deem lamps lit, Why sudden interest in me hit? Muscled body with physique fit,

* When We Fall Apart *

Krakatoa roars lava flows Natives scattered to death Grasses no longer need a mow Leaving no lives and wealth I’d float like a feather Falls into your abyss of devotion, Drowns in your pond of murmur Plunging in slow motion

A Marriage Of Two

A marriage of two is for love that is true A marriage of two is always something new A marriage of two happens sometimes out of the blue A marriage of two

A Maypole

Deprived of root, and branch and rind, Yet flowers I bear of every kind: And such is my prolific power, They bloom in less than half an hour; Yet standers-by may plainly see They get no nourishment from me. My head with giddiness goes round, And yet I firmly stand my ground: All over naked I am seen, And painted like an Indian queen.

'To Speak Of Woe That Is In Marriage'

'The hot night makes us keep our bedroom windows open. Our magnolia blossoms.Life begins to happen. My hopped up husband drops his home disputes, and hits the streets to cruise for prostitutes, free-lancing out along the razor's edge. This screwball might kill his wife, then take the pledge. Oh the monotonous meanness of his lust... It's the injustice... he is so unjust- whiskey-blind, swaggering home at five. My only thought is how to keep alive.

The Country Of Marriage

I. I dream of you walking at night along the streams of the country of my birth, warm blooms and the nightsongs of birds opening around you as you walk. You are holding in your body the dark seed of my sleep. II. This comes after silence. Was it something I said

A Dramatic Poem

The deck of an ancient ship. At the right of the stage is the mast, with a large square sail hiding a great deal of the sky and sea on that side. The tiller is at the left of the stage; it is a long oar coming through an opening in the bulwark. The deck rises in a series of steps hehind the tiller, and the stern of the ship curves overhead. When the play opens there are four persons upon the deck. Aibric stands by the tiller. Forgael sleeps upon the raised portion of the deck towards the front of the stage. Two Sailors are standing near to the mast, on which a harp is hanging.

Creed

We believe in Marxfreudanddarwin. We believe everything is OK as long as you don't hurt anyone, to the best of your definition of hurt, and to the best of your knowledge. We believe in sex before during and after marriage. We believe in the therapy of sin. We believe that adultery is fun.