“Are you complaining honey?” she said gently,
A reassuring hand on my head
Given a moment to meet in your place,
I had been “whispered” relaxed, ready for bed.
A comforting and authoritative look in his eyes,
Just enough strength to crush my belief
Touch and resolution, a confidence that would buy
She that day, just a twisted knot.
It was a solemn moment as they whispered to me,
Just a thought, I just lowered the crown
I did this so willingly that I almost fell
Between firm exercises, but certainly without frowning.
An instant in time under the gun
Certainly special except none,
A driving heart, yours to be won
Yes, she will be mine until the end of life!
The whispering man is definitely an art
Adjust the will and then start,
A comedy moment as funny as a fart
Reminiscent of the wedding carriage!
Apparently not everyone thinks farts are fun! Women find them less funny, they have told me “reliably” (?). However, whispering between men is a respected art in the golden age, as is whispering between women. They exist equally and in good and healthy tension with each other.
It is the convolution of humor, humility, good sense and mutual submission. It is the spice of married life.
Being “whispered” is a concept made famous by an unspoken beer ad; is a game of whispering (or taming) legendary horse in equine circles. Brumbies aside, the nature of domestication is not unique to horses or the animal kingdom. In reality, being whispered is about submitting to the moment of common sense; find the exhilaration of laughter in the seriousness of tempting emotional pride.
The partner who whispers to their partner endures the moment wonderfully, but the response is also of the utmost importance. Both in association must be at the same time, in sync, for it to really work.
This, of course, is a lighthearted comment on myself as much as on anything else.
The “famous” moment for this poem was a real event. My wife and I learned something very deep from him.
© 2010 SJ Wickham.