Crab Apple Love

I love myths and adore love. So when Sanaa’s Prompt Nights asked for myth in poetry, I went digging for a poem I wrote a few weeks after my Piano Man and I got handfasted. It has a bit of Psyche and Eros, of crab apples and Silver Lake, of cyberspace in New York… and of love.

“Crab Apple Love”

Our lust tale
burst out of cyberspace
high on crab apple permeated words.
Psyche’s heart profiled us a match made in New York.
The light in his burnt honeying eyes
spoke to my flesh and soul…
to my brain:
“Eros’ consort hides things,
but myth says she lies not to sisters.”
We kissed lore, said “I do” and boarded life’s ferry.
Hand-in-hand we sail our Silver Lake,
sharing crab apple love
and secrets.

Crab Apple Lovemy Piano Man and I collecting the crab apple branches we used to make handfasting favors

Triquain Swirl Poem: created by joining stanzas together on the seventh line, eliminating the second 3 syllable line and the space between stanzas. The finished stanza will stand at 13 lines and may be repeated thereafter. 3 – 6 – 9 – 12 – 9 – 6 – 3 – 6 – 9 – 12 – 9 – 6 – 3
*originally published here*

Mrs. Witch Writer and Mr. Piano Man, One Year Later…

One year ago, at around 3:13 pm, my Piano Man and I exchanged our vows while encircled by a handful of people very close to us. It was a day ruled by love, music, food, smiles…
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This doesn’t mean that the ceremony went smooth. Doing things while your hand is tied to another person’s hand is difficult: we dropped a bowl of raspberry dressing, we cleaned up the mess together; my Piano Man couldn’t tie his shoes, I helped him; I stepped on some mint and my feet began to itch, he washed them for me… We made it work, and laughed madly while we were at it.
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Getting handfasted was a natural thing; a comfortable thing that made us more…
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…much more and greater than we were before.
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The Little Princess was a star. She changed her dress 3 times, and danced like a lunatic.
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My Boy kept us smiling, and made me dance like a lunatic.
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Papi was quiet, shy… and quite handsome, if I may say so myself.
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My Piano Man’s Mom was wild. She danced probably as much as the Little Princess.
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My Piano Man’s Dad did a lot of smiling, and danced even though his knee was killing him.
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At the head of the ritual, helping us tie the knot (literally) were two great men, whom we chose because of their huge hearts and our admiration for their love for each other.
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My maid of honor, more like a sister really, might beat me senseless for sharing this picture. But I will take the pain, just so I can show you the glow of her smile.
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Meet my Piano Man’s best man, one of his best friends. Can you tell how much he adores the other lady in the picture? Yep, we were surrounded by pure love.
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After one year handfasted to my Piano Man, I can’t predict what the future might hold for us; but my witchy senses tell me that regardless of what it might be, my husband and I will walk towards it together…
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