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Minus into minus
The chambermaid, as usual, made ready
The bedroom for her mistress and master
When the master’s eyes fell upon her shoulders,
That the mistress took note of the least.
Without any fuss, saw the mistress
The master lay his hand upon the shoulder
Of the maid. No rage, no jealousy.
She, the straying, rather felt relieved.
07.02.2003
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mistress & Maid
She said
Come in my dear,
Youre looking tired tonight.
Your bath is drawn, let me loosen your tie
And fix you your usual drink.
He settles back,
Takes a magazine,
Kicks off his shoes, as he studies the form
Of every appealing soubrette.
But where are the flowers that he used to bring?
Every endearing remark
Reminds her of passionarte promises,
That he only made in the dark.
In her bed,
She wants to shout at the back of his head
Look at me, look at me, look at me Im afraid
See what its come to,
Im just your mistress and maid.
The wine is warm
But the dinner is cold.
The look in his eye tells her it wont be long
till the girls on the page come to life.
And theyll get the flowers that he used to bring
With every endearing remark,
And all of the passionate promises
Hell never fulfil in the dark.
In their bed,
She wants to shout at the back of his head
Look at me, look at me, now that Im not afraid.
See what its come to,
Im not your mistress and maid.
See what its come to,
Im not your mistress annf maid.
song performed by by Paul McCartney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mistress & Maid
(mccartney/macmanus)
She said, come in, my dear,
Youre looking tired tonight
Your bath is drawn, let me loosen your tie
And fix you your usual drink
He settles back
Takes a magazine
Kicks off his shoes
As he studies the form
Of every appealing soubrette
But where are the flowers that he used to bring?
Every endearing remark
Reminds her of passionate promises
That he only made in the dark
In her bed
She wants to shout at the back of his head
Look at me, look at me, look at me
Im afraid
See what its come to
Im just your mistress and maid
The wine is warm
But the dinner is cold
The look in his eye tells her it wont be long
Till the girls on the page come to life
And theyll get the flowers that he used to bring
With every endearing remark
And all of the passionate promises
Hell never fulfil in the dark
In their bed
She wants to shout at the back of his head
Look at me, look at me, now that Im not afraid.
See what its come to
Im not your mistress and maid
See what its come to
Im not your mistress and maid
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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As the tree, so the fruit; as the mistress, so the maid.
He is a fool that kisseth the maid when he may kiss the mistress.
All Hail My Dear Mistress I
My dear mistress
People comment on you
Even in my presence
Your love in me is hard to take away
People respect me
Because of you
Your succulent lips
Makes me go crazy
My dear mistress
Your love in me
Is like a precious seed planted
That is hard to uproot
My dear mistress
I am happy and sad
Because I fear for the future
That we missed out on each other
My dear mistress
Oh lord!
I wish you prepared her for me
To marry in future
I wish she mothered my future children
My dear mistress.
poem by Tolulope Modupe
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Name Is Qalme-Tari
My name is Qalme-Tari
Mistress of Death.
Were I go
People will follow.
My name is Qalme-Tari
Mistress of Death.
Were I go
Death follows.
My name is Qalme-Tari
Mistress of Death.
I bring death
Upon people of injustice.
My name is Qalme-Tari
Mistress of Death.
Death for people of injustice.
Tyrants beware!
My name is Qalme-Tari
Mistress of Death.
Dictators beware
I come for thee.
My name is Qalme-Tari
Mistress of Death.
Kidnapers beware
I come for thee.
My name is Qalme-Tari
Mistress of Death.
Child abusers beware
I come for thee.
My name is Qalme-Tari
Mistress of Death.
For those of injustice
I am Death.
My name is Estela
Mistress of Hope
For those of purity
I am Hope
My name is Qalme-Tari
Mistress of Death.
The in just
Shall flee before me.
My name is Estela
Mistress of Hope
The pure
Shall follow me.
My name is Qalme-Tari
Mistress of Death.
My name is Estela
Mistress of Hope
Were I go
People will flee.
Were I go
People will follow.
I am Qalme Tari Mistress of Death Nat. Norville.
Cretics Welcome
poem by Athena Goddess of Wisdom Lumis Light to all
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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If you can kiss the mistress, never kiss the maid.
A Man Needs A Maid
My life is changing in so many ways
I dont know who to trust anymore
Theres a shadow running thru my days
Like a beggar going from door to door.
I was thinking that maybe Id get a maid
Find a place nearby for her to stay.
Just someone to keep my house clean,
Fix my meals and go away.
A maid. a man needs a maid.
A maid.
Its hard to make that change
When life and love turns strange.
And old.
To give a love, you gotta live a love.
To live a love, you gotta be part of
When will I see you again?
A while ago somewhere I dont know when
I was watching a movie with a friend.
I fell in love with the actress.
She was playing a part that I could understand.
A maid. a man needs a maid.
A maid.
When will I see you again?
song performed by by Neil Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sonnet 153
Cupid laid by his brand and fell asleep:
A maid of Dian's this advantage found,
And his love-kindling fire did quickly steep
In a cold valley-fountain of that ground;
Which borrowed from this holy fire of Love,
A dateless lively heat, still to endure,
And grew a seething bath, which yet men prove
Against strange maladies a sovereign cure.
But at my mistress' eye Love's brand new-fired,
The boy for trial needs would touch my breast;
I, sick withal, the help of bath desired,
And thither hied, a sad distempered guest,
But found no cure, the bath for my help lies
Where Cupid got new fire; my mistress' eyes.
poem by William Shakespeare from Sonnets (1609)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Sonnet 153: Cupid laid by his brand and fell asleep
Cupid laid by his brand and fell asleep,
A maid of Dian's this advantage found,
And his love-kindling fire did quickly steep
In a cold valley-fountain of that ground;
Which borrowed from this holy fire of Love
A dateless lively heat still to endure,
And grew a seeting bath, which yet men prove
Against strange maladies a sovereign cure.
But at my mistress' eye Love's brand new-fired,
The boy for trial needs would touch my breast;
I, sick withal, the help of bath desired,
And thither hied a sad distempered guest,
But found no cure. The bath for my help lies
Where Cupid got new fire—my mistress' eyes.
poem by William Shakespeare
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Companions
The old maid and her tabby cat
Live together happily
in their small ground floor council flat
Where from the window they can see.
Pedestrians who hurry by intent
upon their own affairs
But others walk more soberly
as though weighed down by worldly cares.
They are content to stay at home
and watch the busy world go by
The cat is far too old to roam
her mistress ventures out to buy.
Although she goes reluctantly
the food they need from local stores.
The grocers and the bakery.
The old cat stays at home of course
but welcomes her ecstatically.
The moment that she steps inside
their haven of security.
Safe from the dangers of outside.
They keep each other company
the old maid and her tabby cat.
They are contents as they can be
in their small ground floor council flat.
29-Jul-08
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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The virtuousness
I doubt not the virtues of your mistress
But doubt your undue faith in her virtues.
Your confidence, not her reputation
Makes her virtuous, regardless of truth.
The one who suspects one’s mistress’ virtues
Makes her adulterous, regardless of truth,
And loses confidence to live with her.
Neither way is the mistress affected.
27.02.2009
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Asking for Roses
A house that lacks, seemingly, mistress and master,
With doors that none but the wind ever closes,
Its floor all littered with glass and with plaster;
It stands in a garden of old-fashioned roses.
I pass by that way in the gloaming with Mary;
'I wonder,' I say, 'who the owner of those is.'
'Oh, no one you know,' she answers me airy,
'But one we must ask if we want any roses.'
So we must join hands in the dew coming coldly
There in the hush of the wood that reposes,
And turn and go up to the open door boldly,
And knock to the echoes as beggars for roses.
'Pray, are you within there, Mistress Who-were-you?'
'Tis Mary that speaks and our errand discloses.
'Pray, are you within there? Bestir you, bestir you!
'Tis summer again; there's two come for roses.
'A word with you, that of the singer recalling--
Old Herrick: a saying that every maid knows is
A flower unplucked is but left to the falling,
And nothing is gained by not gathering roses.'
We do not loosen our hands' intertwining
(Not caring so very much what she supposes),
There when she comes on us mistily shining
And grants us by silence the boon of her roses.
poem by Robert Frost
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The mistress
Mistresses save men from bad marriages.
Mistresses break marriages that are smooth.
However, the word mistress still suggests
A sleazy liaison devoid of respect.
To have mistress stems from carnal desire.
A triumph or extravaganza can induce.
Desire to conquer a new territory
That lets them sow wild oats there, rules in men.
Mistress is branded as other woman
And is hated by all other women,
However worth she is or however
Beneficial her connection is.
However, the society gives lineage
To the mistress who is popular or
Whose custodian is all powerful,
And hails their relationship, dumping wives.
Affluent mistresses aren’t branded
As a man stealer or a home wrecker.
Rather, their power of being a temptress
Gathers more charm and wipe out wives’ presence.
03.06.2011
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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If I Ever Marry, I'll Marry A Maid
If ever I marry, I'll marry a maid;
To marry a widow, I am sore afraid:
For maids they are simple, and never will grutch,
But widows full oft, as they say, know too much.
A maid is so sweet, and so gentle of kind,
That a maid is the wife I will choose to my mind
A widow is froward, and never will yield;
Or if such there be, you will meet them but seeld.
A maid ne'er complaineth, do what so you will;
But what you mean well, a widow takes ill:
A widow will make you a drudge and a slave,
And, cost ne'er so much, she will ever go brave.
A maid is so modest, she seemeth a rose
When it first beginneth the bud to unclose;
But a widow full-blowen full often deceives,
And the next wind that bloweth shakes down all her leaves.
The widows be lovely, I never gainsay,
But too well all their beauty they know to display;
But a maid hath so great hidden beauty in store,
She can spare to a widow, yet never be poor.
Then, if ever I marry, give me a fresh maid,
If to marry with any I be not afraid;
But to marry with any, it asketh much care;
And some bachelors hold they are best as they are.
poem by Anonymous Americas
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A Harsh Mistress
The call of the seagulls,
near the edge of the sea,
is the lure that attracts men
to their boats to test the sea.
Waves dance a beckoning call, their waters to explore.
Therefore, men set off in their boats
to answer the wandering call.
However, to many a man
the sea maybe a mistress,
to others it is their downfall.
The sea can be a harsh mistress,
to some who come to call,
as they make time there forever,
deep in that watery bed
The storms she creates,
when angry,
has sealed many good men,
to an eternal fate.
So be warned my friends,
before you fall for the siren’s call.
The sea can be a harsh mistress.
10 June 2007
poem by David Harris
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My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun (Sonnet 130)
My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips' red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damasked, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
I grant I never saw a goddess go;
My mistress when she walks treads on the ground.
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any she belied with false compare.
poem by William Shakespeare
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