Going for Broken

The Greeks break plates. The Polish break glass. Every couple follows different traditions to ensure the luck and longevity of their union. I haven’t been to many weddings, but two I attended seem to be setting a new trend. Whether or not this will catch on is hard to say, but this method better do the trick because it asks a lot of one lucky wedding guest.

I attended a wedding last summer in which the mother of a bride ended up with two broken fingers at the end of the evening. The wedding was great and the couple is still together and happily married almost a year later! We know how much that means in today’s society of 15 minute marriages. While the mother may end up with some early arthritis in those fingers, she really stepped up to make sure her daughter has a long and happy marriage.

I was the lucky guest at the second wedding. My only problem is, I am not sure if it is broken. The wound is just to my distal phalanx (I don’t care what you say, I don’t watch too much Bones) and not the whole finger. Is this enough to ensure the happiness of these newlyweds? If it is not really broken, is it all in vain?

I say we go back to breaking things that symbolize something good but that are not parts of the human body. Or maybe the new tradition could be putting all of the broken plates and glasses back together since a marriage is about making two halves into a whole.

Bobby and Tamara <3

A single soul dwells in two bodies

for just as long as it is able

and when those two bodies meet

that soul becomes unstable.

It knows without a doubt

that it can be separate no longer

and that the two must unite

because that way they are stronger.

Whatever trials they must face

from here on out, they will together

because the soul they share is strong

and the love they share is forever.

© Autumn Siders 2016

You’re Not the Boss of Me

My girl asked me if she could blog on Sunday! That’s my day! She gives me one day and now she wants to take that away from me. Well I will show her, I am blogging on her day this week! She has all these rules for me that she expects me to follow, such as:

  • Don’t go on the table
  • No running away
  • Don’t jump on the counter
  • Don’t eat that mouse
  • Don’t lick that
  • Only 1 fish a day
  • Don’t attack the bird

Well here is my list of rules for you, girl:

  • Wake up at 4 a.m. or really any time I would like you to
  • Heat my water to 79.12º F
  • Only touch me when I ask you to, even then, be warned
  • Do not kiss me after drinking coffee
  • I come first (no exceptions)
  • Don’t wake me to tell me “you love me”
  • I will lick that if I want to


I was writing a story,

a tale of love forbidden,

and ink flowed from my left hand

as my black cat purred away, hidden.

The townspeople dragged me out

and beat me, sure to make a scene,

pointing out all I did wrong

and how I was sinister indeed.

They laughed and they cheered

at the violence they created

and the blood flowed freely

onto the red street they illustrated.

Whatever I had done wrong

it seemed I would never quite know;

my sins were too great to mention

yet they were sure of every blow.

Sinister, I may have been to some,

but the real sin witnessed there

is in an uncompleted work of art

and an orphaned black cat without a prayer.

© Autumn Siders 2016

Not a Peep

Ugh, she’s like a broken record

and she just won’t quit.

I can’t get a second of peace;

her voice, I don’t like one bit.

All I want to do is sleep

can’t she see that I have settled in?

Her voice rings through my dreams

there is no way for me to win.

And when I actually want her,

she has the nerve to fall asleep

sometimes I dare not wake her

since finally, I hear not a peep.

© Autumn and Emilita Siders 2016