After The Engagement
by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Well, Mabel, ’tis over and ended—
The ball I wrote was to be;
And oh! it was perfectly splendid—
If you could have been here to see.
I’ve a thousand things to write you
That I know you are wanting to hear,
And one, that is sure to delight you—
I am wearing Joe’s diamond, my dear!
Yes, mamma is quite ecstatic
That I am engaged to Joe;
She thinks I am rather erratic,
And feared that I might say “no.”
But, Mabel, I’m twenty-seven
(Though nobody dreams it, dear),
And a fortune like Joe’s isn’t given
To lay at one’s feet each year.
You know my old fancy for Harry—
Or, at least, I am certain you guessed
That it took all my sense not to marry
And go with that fellow out west.
But that was my very first season—
And Harry was poor as could be,
And mamma’s good practical reason
Took all the romance out of me.
She whisked me off over the ocean,
And had me presented at court,
And got me all out of the notion
That ranch life out west was my forte.
Of course I have never repented—
I’m not such a goose of a thing;
But after I had consented
To Joe—and he gave me the ring—
I felt such a queer sensation.
I seemed to go into a trance,
Away from the music’s pulsation,
Away from the lights and the dance.
And the wind o’er the wild prairie
Seemed blowing strong and free,
And it seemed not Joe, but Harry
Who was standing there close to me.
And the funniest feverish feeling
Went up from my feet to my head,
With little chills after it stealing—
And my hands got as numb as the dead.
A moment, and then it was over:
The diamond blazed up in my eyes,
And I saw in the face of my lover
A questioning, strange surprise.
Maybe ’twas the scent of the flowers,
That heavy with fragrance bloomed near,
But I didn’t feel natural for hours;
It was odd now, wasn’t it, dear?
Write soon to your fortunate Clara
Who has carried the prize away,
And say you’ll come on when I marry;
I think it will happen in May.
by Asif Andalib
Give me baby an engagement ring
I am too much tired of just waiting
Want to sing a love song want to sing
Take my hand baby it’s a joyride
These chances are no doubt time and tide
Our love story can spread far and wide
Turn my sweet dreams into reality
Turn the music on in serenity
Turn me on by your sweet affinity
I smell something fishy from above
Look at my eyes baby see my love
Don’t fly away from me like a dove
Rules Of Engagement
by Edward Kofi Louis
Rules of life,
Rules of love,
Rules of joy,
Rules of peace,
Rules of engagement;
Clean with the pictures at the exhibition,
As the last impact to touch your heart.
A Permanent Engagement
by Sadiqullah Khan
I picked the bust of Nefertiti, the beautiful one,
From Egypt, and heard of Gilgamesh from Babylon,
A Mayan calendar. I chanted the Vedas, and sat
With Buddha. I companied Lao Tzu, and became
Pupil to Confucius. I wined with Li Po, and
Talked about goat-gods, of the Tibetan Himalayas.
Trained by Yogis, in the art of meditation.
I read the Suspended Poems, and dreamt
Sitting at Suffah, I traveled with the wayfarers,
With the ones who carried swords, by the side
Of warrior kings, plunderers, and met the captured
Concubines. I dined on most sumptuous dinners.
I drank from the cup of Hafiz, and lived the Ghalib way.
I acted the Bard, and met Shams-e Din, the wanderer
I was a Maulvi, and been through the polemics
Of Sheikh al- Akbar. Through the musical raptures of Sanai.
Averroes, and Avicenna, and the retro Al-Ghazali,
A Wahabi Jihadist to a Bolshevik Communist.
I crossed over to Mediterranean, to negotiate terms –
With the erstwhile Greeks. A permanent engagement.
And their best seconds, the Romans in statecraft.
Voltaire is waiting, and with Rousseau I had a handshake,
My next destiny is, if granted leave earlier, the great
Renaissance, world wars, and seeing my ‘beloveds’,
In France, Britain, lastly in The City upon the hill,
May be to travel to Italy, before I retire to a quiet corner.
The Engagement Ring
by Akhtar Jawad
Oh! black clouds,
Go from here,
I don’t want thunders,
I don’t want lightning,
I don’t want rains,
My beloved is away.
When he left the village,
I was just thirteen,
But I am now sixteen,
And I now understand,
The meaning of the moon,
In my ring finger.
All the girls of village,
Are singing folk songs,
On the swings that are hanging,
In the mango trees,
And behind a large tree,
I am standing all alone,
I feel something,
In my body and soul,
My eyes are wet,
My age I regret,
As I now understand,
The meaning of folk songs.
Being burnt in the fires,
Of my dreams and desires,
I am now aware,
Of the mystery of life,
What I want from you,
What you mean for me,
Why I wait for you,
Why I seek you dear,
Why tears in my eyes,
Why annoyed of skies,
These rains blow the flames,
Of your love, my love!
And the red stone,
Of my golden ring,
Appears to me,
A drop of blood,
That has frozen in a shape,
Of a human heart,
A symbol of a feeling,
And a thought if you,
Were here in the rains,
I and you,
I can’t say any more,
But I now understand.