On June 15th this year I attended my cousin Clare's wedding to her then fiance Karl. In advance I had voluntarily decided to write a rhyme for the couple as part of my wedding present. Outside of my own knowledge of the couple I solicited additional source material from relevant family members. I had given myself a month in which to write it, but it was really during the week before the big day that I managed to knuckle down and get it finished.
The intention was to either hand a written copy to them after the main meal at their wedding reception, or else just read it to them. However after allowing Clare's mum and one of her brothers to read it first I was urged to read it aloud to all and sundry, in between Karl's speech and that of his best men. Despite an audience of 60-70 people (8 or 9 is my previous record) I managed to read the rhyme without any major mishap. I was probably helped by prowling in and amongst the tables, with my attention focused solely on speaking in to the microphone and reading from the written copy. Many of the guests came up to me afterwards and congratulated me, which was extremely gratifying. Don't worry my ego is a rather timid beast so the chances of it going rabid are slight.
In the meantime I wish continued happiness for Clare and Karl.
Although a cuz of Clare née Doyle,
Mischief make I seek to spoil.
So I wrote this rhyme for Karl and Clare,
A Dub/Ghanian wedded pair.
In tux and tie and gown of white;
Smiles secure, feeling right.
With friends and family all around
Vows are voiced, joy profound.
Cameras capture moments still;
Food then follows, stomachs fill.
A boozy balm, so nerves negated;
Speeches said, with jokes awaited.
But that’s by others not by me.
Portraits penned? Pay a fee!
I jest, I joke, I wisecrack wield.
Mind I milk, layers peeled.
Clare my cuz I seek to sketch.
Music manic, fiction fetch.
A savvy shopper, bargains sought;
Westwood wooed, boots are bought.
Culture keen, passion pure.
Film or play, equal lure.
Hoare and Lea, near theatre found,
Focus fully, on structures sound.
Within their walls she’s snugly set;
Made her mark, deadlines met.
In cherished Chorlton, her house and home;
Room revising, decade roam.
Happy owner, happy niece;
Uncle Tony, seldom peace.
But not an issue, ne’er a groan,
His PC problems, speed-dial phone.
In suburbs south of Albert Square
A flat was filled, silence rare.
Flat-mates, friends, wine and beer;
Sister, brother, cousin dear.
I could be wrong, I could be right,
But Karl it was I met that night.
He said some words and then some more.
His chat was cheery not a chore.
Some might think and some might say
It’s hard to talk an entire day.
But mention food and mention bikes
For those are topics that he likes.
When he bonds with fellow sorts
Time is spent on shammy (chamois) shorts.
Pedal power come wind and rain,
Clock time beating, body pain.
A patient partner, backup bud,
Picks you up when caked in mud.
Who does the job but cousin Clare,
Waiting hours she’ll lightly bear.
But way back when in Gallic France
Cheery chat met glaring glance.
Lesson learnt, silence stood;
Soon resolved by doing good.
Drug design is what he does,
The legal sort without a buzz.
Trialling, testing, making sure,
Pills perform, work a cure.
Now Clare and Karl like their sports;
Ball and racquet, closed-in courts
First-time player, nervous start;
Seasoned player, gambled dart.
A fall, a fracture, Karl encased;
Game is over, game erased.
There’s our couple, there’s our pair.
My toast to you, Karl and Clare.
© D. J. Kirstein [2014] - Text
© Autumn Stone Photography [2014] - Photo
© Sven Aloy [2014] - Illustration
