Maid Poems

Old Maid Someday

I'm walking on a tight rope on poles so tall.
Don't know who will catch me when I fall.
Don't know who'll dance at my wedding ball.
Don't know if I'll even ever have one at all.

MAID OF ORLEANS-Myth and Memory Poetry Contest

MAID OF ORLÉANS
Poem written for and submitted to “Myth and Memory” Poetry Contest, Vanya Evangeline, sponsor. 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A warrior saint came from the plains of rural France,
a beautiful maiden named Joan, dressed in simple clothes,
not of noble lineage, but of modest beginnings
her faith unmatched.  

Shielded by heavenly whispers, 
she took up a religious cause~
mounted on

The Pet I Never Had

by Russ Dodson (c) 1968. 2025

I've never had a unicorn
because I couldn't catch one
and I know no virgin maid
whom I could send to fetch one

I Got In Trouble With The Maid

I was seven, barefoot in the hallway,
nose pressed to the brass knob of the guest room—
she’d left the key out,
but I wanted to see through,
the way you want to see the belly of a piano,
strings naked, all hammer and throat.

The maid caught me,
her voice full of linen snaps and starch—
What are you doing, Miss?
I lied.

Purple Pondering

I’m at the age where
I’ve grown really long hair
And I don’t denim care
That the trend is to cut it

No longer wearing high heels
Just for a flex or a thrill
More about how my feet feel
And they don’t love it

I don’t have many pink plans
Flying by seat of peach pants
Keeping my praying hands
I am blessed with contentment

German Poetry translations into English II

These are modern English translations of poems by the German poets  Ingeborg Bachmann, H. Distler and Johann Georg Jacobi.



“Song”
by Johann Georg Jacobi
translation by Michael R. Burch

Friend, tell me where the violet fled,
so lately gaily blowing?
That once perfumed fair Flora’s tread,
its choicest scents bestowing?
Swain, give up verse and hang your head:
the violet lies dead!

Friend, what

The Milking Maid

In dawn's embrace, she strolls the dew-kissed fields,
Her tender touch, to morning's yield.

Silken hair, a cascade of midnight's grace,
Soft hands whispering, love’s gentle trace.

Beneath the boughs where shadows fade,
She moves with ease, the milking maid.

Her breath, a sigh in the cool, crisp air,
Her eyes, a promise, a daring dare.

Each motion, slow, deliberate, kind,
Her touch, a

Maid For The Ungrateful

She's thirty-three, single,
her Mom babysits her
five year old son.
She reassures herself it's
just two more hours,
then it's the blessed weekend.
Which means delicious sleep.
She has no nest egg,
she's just getting by.

There is one kind aging matron
who makes her lunch when she
cleans her large stately home.
Yet, other well-to-do homeowners
cast their false superiority heavy
in the air as she imagines

Spring Cleaning

gray spider web waves
will white wind whisk it away
insect dream crushed by maid

Niagara Falls

Inhaling the mist on Niagara's waters,  we sail,
Love and romance, in the mist's sweet tale.
As couples, we mirror the falls' ebb and flow,
Peaks of passion, in the mist's soft glow.

Yet a lone soul, lost in the cascade's thrall,
Streams of loneliness, down the falls do fall.
In search of love, in the mist's swirling sea,
Losing identity

Fury, A Shy Maid

My anger when watched all but nude,
It soon beat a hasty retreat.
Fury’s a shy maid in black mood,
When exposed, ogled at, would quit,
Feel helpless, void of all her wit.
_______________________________ 
Reflections | 03.05.2013, revised January 2024|Quintain 

Always a Frog Maid

Callie Croakers was always a frogmaid, never a bride.
Her disappointment she very often would try to hide.
You have more dresses than anyone know I said.
But she lamented, none are my favorite color, which is red.

Do Not Tease Richie During Old Maid

My brother Richie used to turn into a loon when he got the old Maid.
His face would turn red, scarlet, plum, and a bright fuchsia shade.
The rest of us would know, and we could not stop laughing at him.
The one who laughed the hardest was our crazy Uncle, Weird Jim.

Weird Jim tormented Richie after he

Tale of Woe

Thy young maiden,
Peck her Lily flower a shake. 
A brittle sound of break,
Sobbing till tears make.
 
Bare feet on wet grass. 
Alas, her life, soon ‘twill pass. 

Anadyomene

Rough churn ocean delivers her in dignity
       Innocence paints in peach, lustrous Venus 
       Scallop swaps out pearl for Spring felicity
       Implores warriors enter her restful nucleus 
       Never swept by

• Short Maid Poems
• Famous Maid Poems
• Best Maid Poems
• Read Maid Poems
• Long Maid Poems
• Maid Quotes