Wedding Poems | Poemist

Popular Wedding Poems

Lament

by Dylan Thomas

When I was a windy boy and a bit
And the black spit of the chapel fold,
(Sighed the old ram rod, dying of women),
I tiptoed shy in the gooseberry wood,
The rude owl cried like a tell-tale tit,
I skipped in a blush as the big girls rolled
Nine-pin down on donkey's common,
And on seesaw sunday nights I wooed
Whoever I would with my wicked eyes,
The whole of the moon I could love and leave

......

The Wedding Night

by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

WITHIN the chamber, far away

From the glad feast, sits Love in dread
Lest guests disturb, in wanton play,

The silence of the bridal bed.
His torch's pale flame serves to gild

The scene with mystic sacred glow;
The room with incense-clouds is fil'd,

......

Generation To Generation

by Antoine de Saint-Exupery

In a house which becomes a home,
one hands down and another takes up
the heritage of mind and heart,
laughter and tears, musings and deeds.
Love, like a carefully loaded ship,
crosses the gulf between the generations.
Therefore, we do not neglect the ceremonies
of our passage: when we wed, when we die,
and when we are blessed with a child;
When we depart and when we return;

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The Female Of The Species

by Rudyard Kipling

When the Himalayan peasant meets the he-bear in his pride,
He shouts to scare the monster who will often turn aside.
But the she-bear thus accosted rends the peasant tooth and nail,
For the female of the species is more deadly than the male.

When Nag, the wayside cobra, hears the careless foot of man,
He will sometimes wriggle sideways and avoid it if he can,
But his mate makes no such motion where she camps beside the trail -
For the female of the species is more deadly than the male.

......

Norman And Saxon

by Rudyard Kipling

My son," said the Norman Baron, "I am dying, and you will be heir
To all the broad acres in England that William gave me for my share
When we conquered the Saxon at Hastings, and a nice little handful it is.
But before you go over to rule it I want you to understand this:—

"The Saxon is not like us Normans, His manners are not so polite.
But he never means anything serious till he talks about justice and right.
When he stands like an ox in the furrow with his sullen set eyes on your own,
And grumbles, "This isn't fair dealings," my son, leave the Saxon alone.

......

Recent Wedding Poems

Unlucky Poem #13 (2023 Version)

by Michael Farrell

The fire burning within,
of a once romanticized night.
The machete now lies in my palm.
The glistening of oozing red,
slick as the night’s rain,
Only to wash away,
the sin.
The hour resides, the cold shower,
to cleanse the heart,
and it sits on my shelf.

......

The Trials of Tommy Tucker

by Evelyn Judy Buehler

Tommy Tucker was a youth of slight build, seeming younger than twenty,
Which was Tommy's true age; like a lone, silver star, apart from the plenty.

Tommy was well known for his great singing voice, so silky and stunning,
That people paid to hear him croon; like honey throated bees, humming.

But, as it wasn't enough to pay his bills, Tommy retained his daytime job;
As lilies hold their place in lemony sun, in fields where beauty is mobbed.

Fortuitous fate frequently fetched friends, some blooming, fuchsia Fridays;

......

Rosemary's Wedding

by Nkwachukwu Ogbuagu

This Sunday,
Before noon,
In my community church,
Wedding bells ringꓽ

Rosemary,
Daughter of our land,
Weds!

Grand invitations

......

Riveting Romeo

by Evelyn Judy Buehler

I was a famous, American actress, who adored performing for live audiences,
In stage plays, both modern and classic, like velvet time, which often rushes.

Rose acclaim filled long, chaotic days, of colorful masquerades and fulfillment,
Like Sleeping Beauty crimson butterflies, on a first flight to sweet enrichment.

I admired the other actors of my troupe, since we worked quite well together,
As the humming, red-tailed bumblebee, is ecstatic, in fields of purple heather.

Fancy flowers flowed to fragrant breeze, as friends filled finest summer hours,

......

My Friend's Wedding

by Nkwachukwu Ogbuagu

Saturday is native to weddings and ceremonies
Of anxieties – patterned in coarse sputum of rain.
My friend Bonsy and his wife filled the calendar
With the uselessness of time, levelled against waste
As indicated by the clocks of dew-coated pavements
Of our yawning city.
Next to this was the arrangement of formalities which
Came with the attainment of stress. They haggled
Between themselves, the celebrants. Oh well, they haggled
For the benefits of the church from which the organ must

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