Dressed in white
Church bells ring
dilettantes
applaud;
they’re just waiting for the cake.
As the old woman cry’s
young girls scream in envy.
Me
I don’t feel a single thing.
Dandelions and daisy wreaths adorn her fading veil.
Are you a friend of the groom?
No,
I used to be a friend of the bride.
Do you remember?
When you barged into my room with that cheap boxed wine.
Made so many promises
I knew you’d forget, so pantomime.
I can’t forget when you said you were mine.
Now you’re leaving with him.
I won’t believe it this time.
Poetry
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I want more from this! Honestly, this poem was so captivating. For instance, right at the start, you establish a wedding scene but also imply that the narrator does not find the occasion to be utterly merry: “they’re just waiting for the cake / As the old woman cry’s young girls scream in envy. / Me, I don’t feel a single thing.” The narrator is looking upon the situation with a sort of detachment, focusing on the absurdity of it all. Clearly, the narrator has undergone some kind of disappointment that has left him resistant to the joys and happiness usually present at weddings. And with this fact in mind, the reader automatically wants to know more. Great hook!
In addition, I adore how you integrated the idea that the narrator is a former lover that has been disregarded and harshly tossed aside. Starting with “Are you a friend of the groom?” and transitioning into “No, I used to be a friend of the bride,” these lines not only identity the narrator’s gender – as a male attendee, people were more inclined to believe that his companionship was with the groom – but also demonstrate that he harbors extreme resentment towards the bride. They “used” to be friends, but their relationship has since extinguished, and he is livid. Why? Because once upon a time, the bride had made promises to him and told her that she was his. Really, the entire sequential train of thought that’s delineated here is very clever and enrapturing, driving questions into the reader’s brain and then answering them immediately after.
The only piece of advice that I have to offer is to (perhaps) re-format the structure of the poem. I see that you have labeled this work as a poem, but in actuality, I think that this reads more like prose since there is no distinct rhythm or style to it. Should you want to convert this into a poem, I recommend that you split the sentences into narrower phrases. For instance, in regards to the first segment, you may decide to divide it like so:
“Dressed in white,
church bells ring,
dilettantes applaud;
they’re just waiting
for the cake.
As the old woman
cries,
young girls
scream in envy.”
In doing this, the work will be more reminiscent of the traditional verse look. Nevertheless, all in all, this poem was well-plotted, thought out, and interesting. I sincerely wish there was more to be told. In fact, I think that this general idea could be fleshed out into a short story. Bravo!
Thank you very much again, I will reformat the poem. I appreciate the suggestion to turn this into a short story its been a good three years since I have written a short story and the idea excites me.