Long Valet Poems
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i'd just been declared surplus to requirements by my boss
with bloodshot eyes i plodded home completely at a loss
oblivious of my ex-secretary's commiserations
mum's late stage cancer portended impending tribulation
what bruised my heart was my boss' betrayal
his reward for my being unflinchingly loyal
my mind raced to dad's Dane gun, and a well knotted noose, and lethal pills
just one good hot and my sorrows will cease
somehow the thought of my fiancé filled my mind
she was of heaven-so gentle and kind
i'll stay for her. oh such a dear!
i whistled generously, passers by stare
the angelic fiancé turned out a fiendish spouse
she wouldn't cook, she wouldn't work or even clean the house
my income vanished as it came and it was all her effort
she also nagged whenever i offered mum support
but it was her promiscuous lifestyle that often drove me senseless
young, old, rich and poor; she was just so shameless
my limit was reached the day i caught her with my erstwhile boss
homicide was the easier bet but i settled for divorce
to my utmost dismay, the judge added the burden of alimony
to the same unfaithful villain who had wasted my money
worse still outside the courtroom she gave a parting shot
"you were definitely the worst of the lot
even the old judge was much better than you
as was the vicar, the postman and your valet too"
i regained consciousness in the emergency room of a hospital
where i got to learn that my condition had been fatal
somehow, i had consumed some capsules of arsenic
i was just so lucky to have been found by Nick
with tears streaming down my face
i told the doctor all about Grace
for what seemed like ages, he stared blandly at me
then with lips quivering, he said these words to me
“this morning my wife and children were slain by a suicide bomber
i was all set for Israel when you were brought in coma
my duty is to save lives, so i couldn't let you waste yours
life may be mean to us but someone else has it worse
adversities are like batons, you must get them to win a relay race
sorry you just got divorced but therein lies your ace
being alive gives you the chance to get it right again
your ex-wife's loss will be another maiden's gain”
It’s great to be a member of the global elite,
The bean poles in my garden are standing proud and neat.
Organic veg is thriving thanks to ample bags of peat.
I never hear a siren roaming down my street.
I’m fairly relaxed when an airline goes under.
Got a business proposition? Let me find you a funder.
“When will I fix their boilers?” my tenants do wonder.
I’ll soon find a scapegoat, if I should make a blunder.
A product of a public school, the pride of Shrewsbury,
Forcibly convinced that you would rather be me.
The reality is I’m at the top of the tree
So every branch manager is looking up to me!
My diary is dependent on the diligent Katrina,
She runs the show like clockwork, you’ll find nobody keener.
She cuts through all the jargon so the minutes are much leaner
And can text me at the golf club or on my yacht in the marina.
I’m awfully busy, cannot give you an appointment.
Upbeat copywriters - you can find a place in my tent.
Relatively shielded from the risks of disappointment,
You’ll never find a fly in my ointment!
If the radiators splutter, I call my handyman,
If my money’s on a racehorse, then I hope it runs to plan,
On the promenade at Paignton I’m a suave and sandy man,
To a certain travel agent, I’m her “neat and dandy man.”
My doctor comes a-running if I ever get a cough.
Your trusted friends will recognise when you’re a toff.
I flutter like a butterfly high above your moth
So the sprinklers on my lawn are rarely turned off.
Sundays see me mulling over crossword clues
While my weekend valet cleans my outdoor shoes,
Got to keep my name out of the news.
Remember buddy: heads I win and tails you lose.
Now most of my investments are quite discreet,
There’s a chalet in Antigua and a villa in Crete.
Want some carrot cake while you’re thinking on your feet?
Then you’d better not quibble with the global elite.
This poem first appeared in the P.U.W. Anthology "In the Name of Democracy - Poetic Voices" on 22nd May 2021.
Etude in Prose
{SCRIPT to prose}
SCRIPT::
I am afraid you presume too much
Mr Battersea If I have lent you
reason to believe this
I assure you otherwise
Accept my apologies please Miss Schofield
I did not mean to offend News I have heard
inclined me to give the event creedence
Mr Battersea I advise you not to indulge
yourself in the meanderings of gossip
I hope I shan't hear any more of this matter
If I may Miss Schofield allow me to offer
apology by means of Miss Schofield
would you accompany me to dinner?
My Mr Battersea you catch me unawares
Let me check my diary and I shall forward
you my reply through Bertrand, my father's valet
Shall we return to the party?
Yes yes we shall
prose
Excuse me Mr Battersea whatever
are you saying?
If there was a notion to pursuade
you to lend creedence to this matter
let me tell you that the
case is otherwise
I do beg your pardon
Miss Schofield News that I had
heard gave me cause to have concern
I wish I had not brought the matter up
even though it seems absurd
This Garden's secludity
provides the perfect opportunity
to approach you on this matter
as is my concern
Please allow me to advise you
Mr Battersea if I may That meanderings
of gossip can lead one's mind astray
For it is many I would rather that
collect in idle chatter And matters grow
in great degrees as this case shall be
On this matter I hope not to speak about it anymore today
If I may Miss Schofield allow that I
may offer by means of an apology
Miss Schofield Will you please
do me the Honour to accompany me
For Dinner so that our company is not
parted in an unpleasant way?
My Mr Battersea you have caught me
unawares Allow me to confer with
my commitments I shall send word
on the morrow with my father's Valet Bertrand
Shall we return to the Marquis?
Yes yes We may
When I was seventeen, they say,
That I was quite a punk,
Living in Las Vegas,
With a lady who was drunk.
Working as a valet,
For a place of ill renown,
When I got a bigger break,
Working as a clown.
Underneath the big top,
I could be myself because,
Nobody recognized me,
For the kind of man I was.
One day, subsequently,
When the crowd was having fun,
Laughing at my clown suit,
And my make-up neatly done.
I stepped outside the circus tent,
For just a quickie break,
When suddenly a UFO,
Appeared for heaven’s sake.
A silver flying saucer landed,
Next to where I stood,
But when the hatch door opened,
Well, I knew it wasn’t good.
A beam of light encased me,
And it drew me to the ship,
I tried my best to get away,
And break the saucer's grip.
Despite my whole resistance,
I was pulled into the hatch,
Resigned to my existence,
In a game of set and match.
Surprisingly, no aliens,
Were anywhere in sight,
And yet, I heard a disco dance,
Resounding in the night.
I followed where the frenzied crowd,
Was dancing to the beat,
But when they saw me as a clown,
They thought I had big feet.
Immediately, I noticed,
That the dancers were female,
As beautiful as sunrise,
Or an evening fairy tale.
They seemed to come on strong to me,
Although I was a clown,
But no one stayed too long with me,
Or came from my hometown.
How difficult the dancing goes,
With great big floppy shoes,
But when the music ended,
I offered to recuse.
These ladies danced me down,
When I never ate my lunch,
And offered me a lullaby,
With Cream of Broccoli punch.
I woke up on a tropical island,
And what a sight to see,
The daughter of a headhunter,
Was slobbering on me.
I loved my island paradise,
The sand, the surf, the sea,
But I had problems, to be sure,
With hospitality.
Next time that you eat broccoli,
Will you pause and let it be?
I'm stranded on this island,
With a native chasing me.
I live by the Spirit,
I die by the flesh
Baby, please forgive me,
if I should ever
not give you my best
You deserve nothing less
than my very best
You always are worthy of
my best chocolate chip warm oven love
I will let every curious eye
that passes by,
know in a heartbeat
who my beating heart skips for
You’ll get the best jump roping
Rubber band man, singing and dancing,
in the palm of your hand
I will be your personal valet man,
who will always open the door to my heart
Giving you the best of me and more ...
If I should ever
not remember my vow to you,
to love you more and more each day anew
No, no ... no, no, no!
Let five fingers of separation
close around my heart and squeeze
Emptying out to you, every last loving drop
of my missing fidelity
I betta not ever
withhold the best of me,
keep it from you
My every endeavor
should be to satisfy you
Have your tender feet
tell me what to do,
when I take off your Cinderella shoes
Have your dove eyes
whisper how best to wash the tears away,
should any sadness arise
I die by the flesh,
I live by the Spirit
Baby, please love me more
every time I tell you that
your voice I need to hear it
If I should ever
make you desire fallow dreams,
give you empty, unrequited yearnings
Then darken my face ... withdraw your love,
go seek a better rainbow heart string
to make your harp soul sing
If I should ever
tell you things that are not true,
make your joyful happiness
drown in the teary deep blue
Then look away, turn away
Fly away from the dreary gray
If I should ever
deny my love for you,
not offer to give the very best of me to you
Then cast me forever out of your heart —
and find someone new,
who will always faithfully remain true
A mirrored heart who will never ...
no not ever,
stop reflecting only sacred love for you
This is my love manifesto
— Romantic Warrior
We’ve stayed in a wide variety of places on this long cross country jaunt.
One night we’re in Le Chateau Frontenac in Quebec City
the next two nights we’re in a tree house in Vermont.
We’ve gone from a luxury hotel…on the 10th floor of its enormous central tower
to a treehouse with no running water…and…an outdoor shower.
From a bedroom overlooking the St. Lawrence River with a king sized bed so soft….
to a treehouse where we climb a ladder to sleep up in the loft.
From maids who turned down our sheets each day
and left us popcorn and candy…that we ate!
to no maid service and a bathroom with a toilet…the incinerates
From having a valet who took care of our car
then brought it to us when it was time for us to depart
to driving up a road so steep and rocky…
the only way to make it up was with a running start.
Truth be told on our first attempt…half way up…
our car stopped…although the wheels kept on spinning
(Somewhere up in heaven…the travel gods were grinning)
Determined, however, that this portion of our trip would not be a flop…
we backed down…closed our eyes…hit the gas..and made it to the top!
This is exactly what we wanted when we planned our trip.
When we decided from Washington to Maine we would traverse…
We wanted every stop to be an adventure…and those adventures to be diverse.
Besides…if we weren’t staying in the treehouse…the 21st different stop along our map
we wouldn’t have had ice cream at Ben & Jerry’s…or ate lunch at the Von Trapps.
We would have never taken a shower outside with the birds serenading us from their trees
We would have never heard the Sound of Music wafting on the breeze.
Which means even though some of those amenities and luxuries it lacks
we are just as happy in this treehouse in Vermont
as we were in Le Chateau Frontenac
The Moon’s Yellow Eyes
After: The King in Yellow by Robert Chambers
Situations righted by the assassination in Sheepshead Bay (alibied with difficulty under earth’s single moon), I curl up on the windowsill hissing at the pallid orb. Oh how, I long for my planet, Carcosa. I lick the remaining human poison from my claws. Yes, man-made poison, but I, I am the one who delivers— population control.
Wilde, my mate, our transformed intermediary, brushes my coat. I purr. How oddly complacent Wilde has become. Once, he too walked on four legs. After our arrival on Earth and his change (We thought the change would regrow the ear I tore from him in his last life—) my mate became no more than a castrato. I do regret the torture which deprived him of two fingers on his right hand. (It made his job more difficult.) But, discipline was necessary.
the pestle crushes
poison white snakeroot:
yellow eyes shine
Well, why am I telling you this? To that I would say, why not? Who on earth would believe a cat could talk?
The feline form has advantages in espionage. A petted and pampered puss can lure the reticent, overhear the loud-mouthed, two-footed, earthly baboons—with cunning, obtain information no human in their right mind would divulge to an enemy. As valet, advisor, disciplinarian to Wilde (and he to the earthlings), my position abides, a mere slap and tickle from the throats of power. My teeth, neck piercing weapons of choice; my claws scimitars of death drip with the blood of masters.
One more night out. Wilde cat-like licks the scar on his damaged hand and stares at the invitation stamped with the Presidential seal. One more night, sweet puss and the reign of The Yellow King will begin.
Published by Illumen 2016
I’m not sure I understand my boss
He does it all and credits me
He makes the plan, and says I did
He works the plan, and states it’s me
Writes the report, and crowns it mine
My mysterious Boss!
He called me today
And washed me with praise
Shocked, my boss seeks to know
How did you, modest, manage
The tusks of this beast alone?
With husky confidence
He shoots my pay and says
Measure for measure, my valet!
There’s more to come.
My Boss will burn it all
The mid night wick and moil on end
First in, Last out. The office smells his balm
His cologne is everywhere
He sweats on the printer, the copier, and the phone
His ink flows, his paper is busy
The keyboard is worn, the letters have gone
He knows them by heart
ASDFGH and the index at J, he types
His seat sags and his elbow is coarse
The backrest is new, he never rested
His fingerprints are faded
Filing, citing, binding, signing, sending, recalling, working
Reading, doing, redoing, searching, researching, working
Calling, waiting, reminding, mending, thinking, working
Reviewing, checking, approving, panting, working
But he says I did, all he did
Great works, look and marvel!
Now Boss
They want me! Ready to bleed money
And charm me, they are down, bended knee
Abroad, the internationals are hinting
Aboard, the nationals are bidding
And Bored, the locals are winking
They want me! The postman is dizzy
My inbox congested and messengers grumbling
The deeds have spoken
And my boss is depressed
Who shall do it, says he, all the work
His hand is calm, my shoulder feels it
Go my child, my boss, your meteor is bright
And never will it set.
At the closest point, Russia and the U.S.
Are less than two miles apart
If an altercation breaks out between them
Using bikes instead of tanks would be smart
Baby robins eat 14 feet of worms a day
Eeew! That's pretty gross to me
If you're a baby robin though you'd be anxious
To slither them down with glee
Cleopatra married two of her brothers
Might have considered it if I had one
George Washington grew marijuana in his garden
A pothead before President he'd become
Q-Tips were originally called “Baby Gays”
For obvious reasons, not a good idea
Tablecloths were originally meant to be towels
To wipe your face after eating tortillas
Cranberries are sorted by bouncing them
Ripe ones can be dribbled like a basketball
Hope their floors are immaculately clean
Else yours truly would be really appalled
Ancient Egyptians slept on pillows of stone
Guess they'd never hear of a Tempur-Pedic
Must have got up in a pretty foul mood
Uttering phrases that weren't too comedic
Did you know Burt Reynolds is a Cherokee
Well Kimosabe, that's a new one on me
A ball of glass bounces higher than a rubber ball
Who owns a ball of glass, that's silly
In our lifetime, we grow 590 miles of hair
Imagine if we never got it cut
We'd need a special valet trailing behind
To make sure in a door it don't get shut
Lightning generates temperatures 5 times hotter
Than those at the surface of the sun
One ragweed plant releases a billion grains of pollen
Allergy sufferers don't think that's fun
© Jack Ellison 2015
'Twas a dark and stormy night! (OK! So I'm being a tad histrionic!)
The Earl of Pence was lounging by the fire sipping his gin and tonic.
Lightning flashed and thunder roared sending shivers down his spine!
Even his hound, Lord Percival, was so upset that he began to whine!
'Twas well-known thereabouts that phantoms haunted the earl's castle,
And on such frightful nights they were bound to cause spooky hassle!
Nefarious deeds had occurred within Penceford Castle walls in the past,
And were replayed in 'spirited' form leaving generations of earls aghast!
A shriek from the bowels of the castle sent the dog into howling fits,
And brought the earl bounding to his feet, scaring him out of his wits!
The blood-curdling screams were from a former Earl of Pence who in 1642,
Was hung by this thumbs in the dungeon for a fair maiden that he slew!
Suddenly, the ancient organ in the hall began playing eerie chords.
Heard on the floor above was rowdy dancing by ladies, knights and lords!
Ghastly emanations from the past paraded through the terrified earl's room,
Antecedents all, leering and grinning predicting the anxious earl's doom!
Lord Percival sensing trouble long before for the door had bolted!
The storm subsided and the apparitions faded leaving the earl quite jolted!
The earl felt a bony hand upon his shoulder that took away his final breath.
'Twas his valet who offered a gin and tonic to the earl who now lay in death!
Entry for Tania Kitchin's "One Night in A Haunted Manor" Contest
(8 January 2019)