Best Handmaiden Poems
Outside the walls stood a handmaiden gazing
Twisting her skirt between fingers so frail
Patches of burlap were sewn on the garment
Cut from a sack of a barley oat bale
Oh how she dreamed of the opulent palace
Silver and gold and the finest of lace
Gowns made of velvet with ribbons of satin
She spun around with a smile on her face
As if a princess, her blonde hair a flowing
Blue skies above now the tint of her eyes
Hearing a song on the early spring breezes
Never once noticed the coming surprise
Then saw him on horseback and blushed like a petal
Found on the reddest of roses that grew
Knee bent to curtsey, feeling embarrassed
Knowing this gesture is what she should do
“Good day my fair maiden, your dance was enchanting”
He said as he smiled, his kindness was felt
“So sorry my prince, I did not see you coming”
Again on the soil before him she knelt
“Rise up,” he said as he slid from the saddle
“There is no need for such formality,
for one of such beauty tis I who should bow”
Saying this he touched the earth with one knee
Once more she blushed like an apricot sunrise
Standing he reached out and taking her hand
Wondered, “What brings you by here on this morning,
adding such loveliness to our fine land?”
“Your majesty, I’m but a servant daydreaming,
Seeing myself quite the belle of the ball
Very much childish I know you are thinking
For I belong far outside this great wall”
He pondered a moment, his chin now he fondled
Suddenly grinned with the happiest glance
“Well now fair maiden, if thou would permit me
Please be my guest at this evening’s spring dance?”
“Oh handsome prince I could not even think it
Look at my dress, I have nothing to wear
Merely these rags and an old pair of high tops
Never to mention the state of my hair”
“Never you mind and I kind of like high tops
Maybe some jeans and a tank top in red
Pull your hair back and it will be perfect
Nothing you’ll need when we climb into bed”
“What’s that you say, you want sex after dancing
Beat it you creep, I’m abreast of your game
I’ll spread these legs not for anyone fancy
Damn it, you men, every one is the same”
As he departed, rejected and sneering
She stomped away feeling angry and mean
So here you find such an unhappy ending
The truth is she only had eyes for the queen
If man is the measure of all,
Our world immediately shrinks.
There can be no moral compass
Just the yardstick of failure and success
Drunkenly refracted by o'er heated ambition
Or chilling revenge
Without the overarching Architect,
The Prime Mover that once was.
Man lives in a festering swamp
Where reason plays handmaiden to naked power
And words mean what the speaker wants.
It is now man needs a Voltaire
To bring him back into the light of the sun.
If there is no God, man must invent one.
HANDMAIDEN OF MOON DANCING
fly me to stars in the thrill of one swan night
over a crescent arc to feel a flame of sighs,
teasing dreams so silent yet ever wild
and like a neon light, speak through your feet ,
your ribs twirling in drips of summer’s rage : throw
away the restraint of confined movements
dictated by a body unmoved; of a flower
keeping her flutters from crawling freely on grass
give me a sway through leaps unto ocean’s swell
without need for thought or reason, rather,
lift the flesh made from love or hate, to burst
with primitive heat; fingers liquid in motion unbidden
by a sacred place that doesn’t exist on earth, when
all but the fragrance of a naked skin expresses
the very force that writhes in the faint of depth,
licking the cells inside out.. weightless, bold, soft
dance the crazy dance with me just because
such passion needs to flow along rhythms
burning within… till a weave of spin breaks
into a trance blending a wanton glide with
pirouetting flights raw in some meadow clearing,
pious pose under the tangerine of touch…
handmaiden of moonlight dancing on flames
pluck those eyes ,rise above mortal remains.
©
*i tweaked this free verse with a sonnet’s volta
in the last two lines (10 syl rhyme count instead
of the usual 8 syl pattern)
----------
*Martha Graham is the pioneer of modern dance. As a ballet dancer
and choreographer, she introduced inner movement emphasizing
emotion, spontaneity, and an exploration of psycho-social themes
( feminism, political protest, and labor unrest)through free -flow
of innovative steps, thwarting cultural control over conventional,
metered dance. Her last performance on-stage was in 1970,
at the age of 76; she was working on the choreography for the Olympics
when she died in 1991 at the age of 97.
Graham was awarded the Presidential Medal of Freedom in 1976
by President Gerald Ford and cited by Time Magazine as
"Dancer of the Century" in 1988, aside from her other accolades.
*Source: Wikipedia.com and www.voanews.com
*Please watch
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OUoMc5Am_c0&feature=related
‘ ‘’’’’ ‘’’’
For Cyndi Mac Millan’s Maverick by nette onclaud
Les Bijoux (The Jewels)
by Charles Baudelaire
loose translation by Michael R. Burch
My lover nude and knowing my heart's whims
Wore nothing more than a few bright-flashing gems;
Her art was saving men despite their sins;
She ruled like harem girls crowned with diadems!
She danced for me with a gay but mocking air,
My world of stone and metal sparking bright;
I discovered in her the rapture of everything fair;
Nay, an excess of joy where the spirit and flesh unite!
Naked she lay and offered herself to me,
Parting her legs and smiling receptively,
As gentle and yet profound as the rising sea,
Till her surging tide encountered my cliff, abruptly.
A tigress tamed, her eyes met mine, intent ...
Intent on lust, content to purr and please!
Her breath, both languid and lascivious, lent
An odd charm to her metamorphoses.
Her limbs, her loins, her abdomen, her thighs,
Oiled alabaster, sinuous as a swan,
Writhed pale before my calm clairvoyant eyes;
Like clustered grapes her breasts and belly shone.
Skilled in more spells than evil imps can muster,
To break the peace which had possessed my heart,
She flashed her crystal rocks’ hypnotic luster
Till my quietude was shattered, blown apart.
Her waist awrithe, her breasts enormously
Out-thrust, and yet ... and yet, somehow, still coy ...
As if stout haunches of Antiope
Had been grafted to a boy ...
The room grew dark, the lamp had flickered out.
Mute firelight, alone, lit each glowing stud;
Each time the fire sighed, as if in doubt,
It steeped her pale, rouged flesh in pools of blood.
This translation has been adopted by **** and escort websites!
The Perfect Courtesan
by Michael R. Burch
after Baudelaire, for the courtesans
She received me into her cavities,
indulging my darkest depravities
with such trembling longing, I felt her need ...
Such was the dalliance to which we agreed—
she, my high rider;
I, her wild steed.
She surrendered her all and revealed to me—
the willing handmaiden, delighted to please,
the Perfect Courtesan of Ecstasy.
You shake your mandrill fist angrily
towards the sky
Epithet accusations hurled at God
Unrighteous indignation
rest uncomfortably
within your flat bosom
Testosterone milk
feeds your androgyny grief
You feel that your womanhood
never grew properly ...
enamel deficient of estrogen teeth
Born with male genitalia,
the mirror always reflect a female image
in your handmaiden eyes
Walking thru life
wearing a muscular disguise
is impure womb agony
Misogyny self-violence done within;
birth raped,
and weaned on silence
Queen bull dyke over your girlfriends,
gives you a pleasurable feeling
of dominance
But the tears flowing
from your androgyny grief
keep the fears growing,
Your better self a-long time stolen,
turned you into a joy thief
Lack of acceptance of God’s choice,
has left you gender blind
And those androgynous tears
are gonna
make your eyes stay forever moist
For the inner peace
you desire,
you will never surrogate find
Wish You Were Here
The hay bales golden, crimsons and ochre sere leaves fallen-- the caw of the Jackdaw
There was no Nightmare until after the fall, painted and swooned like a Fuseli
the clouds float in staccato and layered rich tones: vibrato from sparrows joins the chorus
the suffering alluring woman frail calling on Nature, who chides the mawkish
yet still holds in her in Her own way,
as she ambles and thinks of loves’ long ago
sadness your becoming frailty; weakness a handmaiden, its alluring on you
and there is a mourning call from the maw of the jackdaw
and the skies go crimson, deep ambers until a now purplish blue
and the clouds become negatives as rotation continue-- I see the first star
appear and think of all the females who thought love’s true
“Boot in the face, the brute. brute heart of a brute like you” said Plath
Tolstoy’s males prevail, the amative women frail, and frailty is true
The tender heart a pulpy thing is simply the mind at war
And Nature now turned to dusky twilight transforms her as before
I weep as I haunt the ruins of this castle
once a handmaiden, then the king’s mistress.
lavished in silks, gold, and silver tassel,
envy, pierced well born ladies interest.
Sneered and hated on my upcoming reign,
good times didn’t last long. a drop in my cup
of sweet wine of tearful death was very plain,
placed away from their space in ageless sleep.
Swishing sounds from my gown sweeps these stone steps,
of these shadowy chilling stone fortress.
With hushed tears I haunt the long corridors
yearning for the radiance of my dreams.
7/30/2016
Contest:Three Stanzas- Three Only
Sponsored By: Broken Wings
Half-breed Hades and his helter-skelter handmaiden
Abysmally arrogant abase audaciously
Larcenous liaison of Lucifer’s love children
Lashing lepers in a legendary labyrinth
Ostracizing and obliterating others
Wailing wretchedness while warpainted warmongers
Earmark eerie entities for evil escapades
Endorsing the eager envoy for entanglement
Noxious narcissistic nauseating necropolis
Macabre masquerade of merciless marauders
Oblivious outcasts overwhelm outrageously
Owning the occult offering obituaries
Nefarious nocturnal neighbours nether and nigh
AP: 2nd place 2022, 3rd place 2020, Honorable Mention 2025
Submitted on September 22, 2017 for contest HALLOWEEN SCARE sponsored by RUSSELL SIVEY - RANKED 2ND
Shiver if you will, I will seed your dreams, it is my way
and though the days sun may linger longer ...
it will not warm you.
A handsome handmaiden is the month of May
but, I roar and rail, temper tossed and ambivalent
~if you have no heat
~~if you despise emptiness
and do not wander in wonder at the shapes between the lines
do not call my name, Janus …
for I am the God of doorways.
My arms are always open.
May each domicile shiver at my breath
in nail popping fright, as bats harbor in their eves.
I will seed your dreams with portents.
~Rub sticks shorn, and to fire bring the kindle
for, the insight of my light may burn.
Poet: D. Guzzi
Contest: Personification of January
...keep our metaphysics warm
( From : Whispers of Immortality/T.S.Eliot)
Keep our metaphysics warm
in dorm sheet our handmaiden
work like monsters bazooka
Slit our conscience and alas
masturbation is a metaphor
Hammer and chain God is lost
Only interpretation, function
of power not even truth, fly.
The creators handmaiden on an ass,
In modern world would look so crass.
Her trusted guardian by her side,
From kings and connivers she had to hide.
For place to rest they tried their best,
Carrying forward God's chosen test.
Across they saw a manger lay,
To the cattle inside no stranger they;
No moo,no bleat,not a single bray:
For these animals too,was a day to pray.
So small was this cherub at his time of birth,
Sent as the messiah,to heal this earth.
A shining star came into sight,
For the wisest of wise,a guiding light.
With gifts and treasures they did arrive,
To see the redeemer in a manger alive.
Healing those reeling and wracked with pain,
He brought succour to the believers,until was slain.
Although the world is on a massive divide,
Someday he'll return to be mans guide.
All those who made earth their Paradise,
Will surely be judged for their treacherous lies.
---- Princefreakasso{Artist and Poet}
Mother and Angel
What thoughts gather in your mind, Mary,
Eyes looking down in the morning light?
Do you still hear the sound of an angel’s voice –
Can you hear the sound of angel wings?
God’s light shines through you, simple handmaiden;
You reflect all the glory of the Lord;
Your soul rejoices in God your Savior
As the Lord looks tenderly upon the favored one.
What thoughts speak in your mind, Mary,
Eyes looking down in an evening prayer,
Do you see the child to come –
Emmanuel, Messiah, Anointed One?
Do you see the sword piercing your heart?
Can you count the steps on the roads you travel?
Do you see a cross stand on a lonely hill?
Can you see into the Resurrection?
What thoughts gather in your mind, Mary
In midnight dreams wrapped in pale moonlight?
Do you still hear the sound of angel wings
In the echo of your answer “Yes!”
December 4, 2019
Contest: Writing Challenge - I Want Christmas Poems – December
Sponsor: Dear Heart – Wiishkobi Ode
My entire world captured in a camera lens,
Each second saved in imperishable moments,
It's like each picture is Father Time's tribute to Mother Earth,
And I'm merely a humble handmaiden bringing them closer together,
I'm a photographer, an artist, sort of,
Aiming to turn my life into a scrapbook,
By preserving everything I love,
It's not a hobby more of a personal passion but when I take pictures I still hope someone will look,
Cause it takes a special kind of guts to put your life out on display,
You're basically telling everyone, "hey guys look at these cool things I saw today!",
And then you silently hope and pray that they'll like it so you can get an A,
Now that I think about it the whole concept of "art school" is a terrible system,
It's a HUGE paradox, they're all "you see these great artists, you should strive to be like them.",
And then you get the ol, "everyone has their own unique style and all art is beautiful",
So the next time I get an F can I use that as my angle?
The Truth is the Gift of Gods Word
for it's understanding the habitation has stirred
softly upon spirit we listen to it's call
comprehension to it's voice like a seed is small
Can you understand the wise man's riddle
apprehend interpretation the narratives trail
from beginning to end surround the middle
without understanding it's Truth you may fail
Upon the Truth are your heavens fixed
the hearing upon earth with lies are mixed
to many have reached a state of complacency
the cares of this life has choked ability
You lead upon paths unknown
a flight those having wings have flown
I tell you upon the rise of each day
that you must lead and show us the way
Oh Shepherd like a lamb you guide me
for I am lost to the flock without thee
My Lord and my God you have called us out
faith in you but confidence in self do doubt
With every gesture you affirm the way
yet evermore before me do my sins lay
I look around upon those I do see
whose lives are worth much more than me
The seventh day Jehovah has blessed
where mankind will enter into his rest
abundance of joy will fill the earth
as Gods Kingdom has given birth
The fruit of her labor is worldwide
she will wipe the tears her children have cried
Gods woman has brought forth Life
she will train the children remove their strife
You are God from the womb of my mother
have preserved me from violence of brother
your handmaiden as captive I serve
given more than anyone here deserve
I listen to the music of your call
understand I grace given since fall
for to live is Christ and to die gain
and within the hand of your Love remain
Forsake me not when I reach that hour
frail woman in mankind has not power
give me courage so I don't therein cower
for I have beheld the future from your tower
Oh my gentle Lord your path holds no discord
our seas turned to glass when we do as asked
neath your wisdom do kneel as truth you reveal
all thinking given you and insight given true
Hold me close and in your arms
for hear I do the trumpets alarms
you have signified my death
for those you love I give my breath
Hold my hand on the path you take
for I am weak and easily brake
a thing that is soft and frail
for those you love like Lord impale
Now I know the path to you
by example your loved showed true
willing I am to give you my life
like anointed Son did for wife
source JOHN 3:16 Romans 12:1-2
COPYRIGHT © 2009 C Michael Miller
The Non-Sublimininal Criminal
High Priest of Hypocrisy
The Diplomat of Draft Dodgery
The Great Example of Paying Test-Takers
The LoudMouth of Wealthy Fakery
The Main Proof of Miseducation
The Nanocrat of Non-Payment
Potentate of ***********
Sultan of **** Patronage
The Grand Probah of PooPoo
The Big Wheel of Blather
And Salesman of Bull-puckey
High Lama of Skullduggery
The Master Purveyor of Inaccuracies
The Pride of Misrepresentation
The Scion of Misdirection and Nepotism
The Black Knight of Spite
Grand Lizard of Hate and Bigotry
The Fometer of Torment
Master of Catastrophe
The Master of the Quick Disaster
The Worshipper of War by Proxy
Lover of Lies and Liars
The Promises of Pusillanimity
The Handmaiden of Bribery
Worshipper of Massive Greed
The Purchaser of Fake News
The Dandy with Unseen Clothes
The Undead Ghost of the Capitol
The Horrible Haunt of the Presidency
Embodiment of Embracement
The Shamelessness of Gross Shuckers.