Best Scullery Poems

Once upon a time...

Once upon a time, in France, a storyteller fella
Wrote of a girl named Cinderella,
Meant as a fairy tale romance.
Her daddy died when she was young, and she was forced to share his riches
With three monumental b****es,
A most unhappy circumstance.

For years her stepmom...

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I hesitate for a moment outside the rod iron gates;
sensing behind those castle doors, a long past life awaits,
within those many mortared walls, rising high above the lake,
as my breath begins to quicken and my knees began to shake.

Step into the parlour, the old curator...

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Is this world made only for males?
Even History talks about 'His' Story only,
But I am the creator,
The creator should rule her creations,
I am the Master of this magnificent world,
Not a slave or serf to the feudal men,
Power never goes with gender,
Your prowess lies only in...

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I was born in 1943
in a rural backwater safe from the bombs
also a safety net still akin to the 19th century.
Neither electricity nor gas
only an old oil lamp and candles for comfort.
The luxury of the tin bath once a week
brought in from the scullery, placed...

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The Dragonbone Chair

Mr Williams that's the guy, first name Tad
Wrote an epic story about a little lad
A layabout, a scruff, a hero in the making
In a time when elven magic is awaking

Though he labours in the scullery, he's born of noble line
His father was a...

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There was a time
I saw my mother's hands and
noticed quite a difference
between hers and mine
hers were fine
soft and smooth
with lovely nails, refined

While mine-
so rough and dried
no lotion could soothe or hide
the blisters and the callouses
while hers were fit for palaces
mine were like a scullery maid's
accustomed...

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Once upon a time
over the hills and far away,
near the sea there lived
a viridescent princess. 

She gazed at the waves
which seemed to appear so royal.
Still, they have freedom
that grace the scullery maids.

Rushing to the edge 
stopping short of going forward.
The story of life. 
Her crown...

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Hi, how are you today?
I’ve seen you since aeons
But never found any spur
To greet, peptalk, ask about your well-being
You shine eternally
Then sleep for the night
Again march ahead with your flash,
To enlighten even the darkest corner of the
scullery
Do you never even wish to have a siesta?
And...

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Broremann, the farmer worker. 

Every morning at five thirty sharp, my brother Broremann 
had to milk five cows by hand bring bucket full of goodness
to the scullery where maid sifted it and in a churn it went.
He had to start milking Rose first, she was...

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She rushed away and left me here last night,
Upon the steps she left me here last night,
Because the clock was chiming she took flight.
I saw her gown disappear into rags,
The sequined silk was now scullery rags,
A servant’s dress she made with veggie bags.
The Prince of...

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Dearest Soul of a Woman,

We are not to be confused of wants, of needs,
of desire 
what sits upon the tip of tongue
dancing autonomously in the wind
but still
tethered to a branch
not old, not young
waiting for release, for a life, 
not yet begun

what sets us free,
gives us...

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Marianne (werefkin)
a self portrait
to look back on-
from days long gone
Croupier (de la tour)
bonne chance
in love perchance
Georgia
on my mind
in close-up art
of abstract flower parts
Cookmaid
Bacon's simple scullery maid
with all her beauty displayed
Shrimp girl
another arrow to  his quiver
hogarth's lass near the river
Flora (kaulbach)
here+there,flowers everywhere
except,in her hair


see related...

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[Continued from previous episode.]

…on my third Cold War deployment
Patrolling the South China Sea,
Having many good reasons to be there,
Though no one’d explained them to me.

The mess cooks were dishing out mid-rats.
I was Mess Deck Master-at-Arms.
The ship’s rock and roll grew excessive,
Should’ve hit the collision alarm.

Cups,...

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Some memories from childhood
are hard to forget.
I now remember one
without regret.

Our house never knew a lock.
No need for anyone to ever knock.
How strange then to find
no entry at the front....but never mind.

Around the back I dashed.
The scullery door for sure unlatched.
In I bounded but again...

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Her Mam did for the rich Wool toffs, 
   days chocka block with chores.
Her fella was a plazzy gent— 
   A few jars opened doors.
								
 A proper jarg johnny he used;
   he thought hi’self real cool.
In the shade of...

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