#maid
Maids see it all
But they hardly ever tell
Well...
Occasionally one might sell
A juicy story
About you in naked glory
To add to your fame
And your shame
It's all part of the game
Who can blame
The person who buffs
And fluffs
Your stuff
On minimum wage
For making some cash
As you hit the front page!
Feb 7, 2020
Feb 7, 2020 at 8:54 AM UTC
one day I found a ship
a wreck on the ground of the sea
within I found a chest
I decided to take it with me
it had a name written on it
letters I could barely see
as I found her
she looked at me
she was finally free
humming a melody
"my husband was a sailor,
he left me for the sea
and when he left he took my heart
but you returned it to me"
Feb 24, 2019
Feb 24, 2019 at 2:20 PM UTC
I have visited the land of over the moon happy
Where my tears created silent rivers
Being an ethnic woman
The exotic figure of many dreams
Feels like popping the champagne
And having to clean up the mess afterwards
I am both the star and the maid at the same time
Oct 15, 2018
Oct 15, 2018 at 5:39 PM UTC
George's father
stares at Polly.
"How is George?"
he asks eyeing
the young maid
who cares for his
shell-shocked son.
Polly studies the man
behind the desk
how his eyes
search her.
"He has moments of nerves
but I manage to calm him"
she replies
pushing from her mind
she and George
in bed the night before.
"I have received a letter
asking about him
from his regiment commander"
he says
"asking about his possible
return to the Front."
Polly's eyes betray a fear.
"He can't"
she says
"he's not well enough."
His eyes pierce her.
"It is not your opinion
he will be asking"
he says sitting forward
in his chair.
"If it wasn't for me
he'd be locked away
in some asylum".
Polly says
not thinking
as she speaks.
He looks at her.
"I know he thinks
you are his wife
but you are not"
Polly stands up straight
looking at him.
"But all the time
he does
I am"
she replies
seeing George
making love to her
twice in the night
behind her eyes.
Apr 21, 2018
Apr 21, 2018 at 4:09 AM UTC
Polly watches the sun rise
into the room. She lies beside
George in his bed. It was
the only way to calm him
down last night. He thought
he saw snipers in the trees
over the way. He sleeps still.
Eyes shut and eyelids like
smooth shells. She didn't
think he would be able to
perform but he did. As if
nothing much had changed.
But he was not the same.
The War has blunted his
sense of humour. Twice
in the night. At one time
he shook the bed with the
nerves going off. She lies
still gazing at him there.
The thin dark moustache.
The lips still. What if he
had died? Shell shock is
a kind of death she muses.
Where to go from here?
He thinks she's his wife
and not the maid he used
to bed while on leave.
His parents are not happy
about her being with him
most of the time. But she
alone can calm him if he
loses his nerve and shouts
and screams and shakes.
She is supposed to sleep
next door in the adjoining
room but he wanted her
in his bed. It had been
nearly a year since he last
made love to her before
he went back to the trenches
and the Front. She can
sense him close to her.
She wants him inside her
again and again. She had
best get up in case someone
comes along and sees her
in his bed. She rises up and
goes to the adjoining room
to wash and dress and brush
her hair which is in a mess.
Mar 27, 2018
Mar 27, 2018 at 8:23 AM UTC
You watched George
undress for bed,
made sure
he didn't slip
or fall with the shakes.
He had caused
a scene at dinner
and his mother asked you
to take him back
to his room.
He thought you his wife
and not the maid.
The shell shock
had disrupted
his thoughts and nerves.
He stood there naked
staring at the wall.
You picked up his pyjamas
and dressed him.
He was pliant
and stared at you.
Polly, what has
become of us?
he said.
He had tears
in his eyes.
We are safe,
George, you said.
His hands began
to shake again.
You held him close to you
sensing him shake and cry.
You didn't know
the sights and sounds
that haunted him;
what the War had done
was visible
before your eyes:
in his eyes
an old world died
and a world cursed by lies.
Mar 6, 2018
Mar 6, 2018 at 3:57 PM UTC
.
*She walks the castle walls at night,
with a rose held fast in her fingers,
the mist rolls away across the land,
the memory of her lover still lingers.
Cold flagstones beneath her slippered feet
hold the histories of the aeons tight.
Old battles, wars, and terrifying sieges,
ghosts of ancient warriors wail in the night.
And still she clutches his parting gift,
she wears the bond burden of his ring,
his love weighs upon her broken heart,
tears flow free with a melancholic sting.
They fall upon the stones and disappear,
additions to the heavy tomes of history,
little gems writing sadness in a story,
as she stares into the distance so wistfully.*
© Pagan Paul (10/02/18)
Feb 12, 2018
Feb 12, 2018 at 6:14 PM UTC
George sat at the dining table
for evening dinner.
It was the first time
he had been down to dinner
in many months, since being sent home
with shell shock in 1916.
He sat quiet,
staring at his sister
who sat opposite.
Other guests
sat along each side
of the long table,
and his father sat
at the top end
and his mother
at the other end.
He wanted to shut out
the chatter; it grounded
on his fragile nerves.
The man next to him
(lord something or other)
tried to engaged him
in conversation
about the War,
but George turned
and gazed at the man,
gazed at his moustache
rising and falling as he spoke,
the words floating in the air
like wounded birds.
His sister said:
George doesn't talk of the War,
he finds it disturbing.
The man looked at the sister:
I suppose he must;
are on your leave then, Sir?
George turned away.
He wanted his wife.
Where was she?
He searched along the table
on either side, ignoring
the man next to him.
Where's Polly?
He said anxiously
to his sister.
His sister leaned forward:
Polly is busy, George,
you will see her later,
the sister said
in a soft voice.
I WANT HER NOW!
George bellowed,
his hands shaking,
his eyes staring
along the table.
His mother got up
from the table
and went around to George
who had pushed back his chair
and was standing shaking.
Calm, George,
she said.
She put an arm
about him
and began to lead him
from the dining room.
The guests stared in silence.
Polly who had been outside
waiting to take meals in,
came in and spoke quietly
to the mother,
and taking George's hand
led him from the room.
George is suffering
from shell shock,
his father said,
he has not quite
got through with it yet.
The guests nodded
and spoke in soften voices
offering apologises
and words of sadness
and such as guests do.
George held tight
to Polly's hand.
Who are those people?
He said,
his hands shaking,
his eyes staring around him.
Just dinner party guests,
George,
Polly said,
leading him
up the stairs,
wondering
what the butler will say
about her entering
the dining room
other than as a maid.
They climbed up the stairs;
George crouched down
thinking the bright lights
were flares.
Feb 12, 2018
Feb 12, 2018 at 12:19 PM UTC
He was a bachelor,
A free soul without bother.
He comes home from work,wan,
The house is ***** and span,
Every thing is perfectly placed,
The table,with food laid,
His pyjamas neatly piled on the bed,
That is the maid.
He gets married,
He comes home tired,
A little clutter here and there,
But the bedroom is done with care.
There is soft music, perfumed candles and flowers,
Romantic nights for lovers,
For dinner,mostly takeaways and leftovers.
They have children, three,
He comes home, weary,
There is chaos,
The house is a mess,
Children are crying and shouting,
The dog is barking,
The wife is howling and screaming,
Before she starts complaining,
He takes over the kitchen,
Tells her to see to the children,
For, household chores,
She abhors.
The wife and kids go to her mother,
Home is quiet, no clutter,
For a while mum has come to stay,
Once again hot meals everyday,
The house is warm and clean,
He only has to see to the bin.
Mum is the best,
But he misses his wife and kids nevertheless.
Jan 8, 2018
Jan 8, 2018 at 12:42 PM UTC
A masculine figure; a girl in disguise, fear is imminent when you realize, their mission's the same, both hired to **** but not for the money, but simply the thrill.
Pitter-patter, pitter-patter, their steps draw near. They're prepared for the **** they won't shed a tear.
The blade sings silently when pulled from its place. A hideous ecstasy is marked on his face.
The sticky crimson formed a very thin line. Both of their memories traveled back in time, to when love was real, and pure from the heart. They swore it to each other, ''Till death do us part.''
Yet limp in his arms, his dead beloved laid, a crossbow in arms disguised as a maid. Though suddenly ill, he took a step back and found the pills she hid behind her back.
He remembered the challenge from when they were younger. Who was the best, who could last longer?Compelled on his knees, his hand 'round his neck, he was suffocating, the breath pulled from his chest.
Foul words he uttered and thought of his drink, and how his partner was smart like a sphinx. Though he was stronger, her wit was uncanny; he had tried to best her one time too many.
She knew she couldn't beat him, for he was too strong. She decided her death she wouldn't prolong. Like a lamb to the slaughter, she decided to come. When the pill took over, he'd know she won.
And he'd know it was true, on his very last day, the deadliest assassin was dressed as a maid.
Jan 3, 2018
Jan 3, 2018 at 8:55 PM UTC
George's father called Polly
into his study.
She had been there
a few times before
as a maid
but this was different.
Sit down, Polly,
he said.
She sat down,
all the time
looking at him,
taking in his greying hair
and that moustache of his
and those dark eyes
piecing at her.
How is George?
he asked.
He is a little better,
she replied.
His mother said
he ignored her
when she came
to see him
the other day,
his father said.
He doesn't talk
to anyone much,
Polly replied.
He talks to you,
his father said,
why not others?
I don't know,
Polly replied.
The day before
walking with him
in the grounds
he spoke only
a few words.
How noisy
the birds were,
he had said.
And that time
the other night
as Polly was
putting him to bed,
he had taken her hand
and said: come to bed.
But she hadn’t;
she said,
later, George,
but never did.
That would be unfair
to him and her,
she thought,
not like the old days
before the war,
or before his shell-shock,
when she and he
made love in his bed
at his request.
Has he improved at all
since he returned home?
his father said.
I think he is slowly,
Polly said.
I would have tried
to get him a man
to take care of him,
but he seems better
with you
and if I got a man
he might go backwards,
the father said.
I'll take care of him,
Polly said,
all the time
he needs me.
His father studied her,
his eyes searching her,
and she wondered
if he knew about her
and his son before this,
knew about the ***
and such,
but if he did
he didn't say
or give any hint
or say as much.
Aug 6, 2017
Aug 6, 2017 at 3:23 AM UTC
They're out there
George said
peering out
the window
of his room.
Polly who had been
making his bed
looked over at him.
Who are George?
she said.
They think
I can't see them
but I do
creeping along there
by the trenches.
She came across
and stood beside him
and looked out
the window.
Cows moved
in the field
over the way
tails wagging slow.
They shot Briggs
right through the head
and he was beside me
one minute
he was talking
next gone
a hole through
his forehead.
They won't get me
like that
he said.
It'll be
all right George
just keep near me.
She held his arm
a cow moved
behind the hedge.
Back back
George said
and held her close
and away
from the window
his eyes large
and staring.
She kissed
his cheek
he turned
and gazed at her
his eyes
frightened looking.
They won't **** me
will they?
No George
not now
she said
holding him.
He stared ahead
his eyes watching
a moving cow.
Jun 30, 2017
Jun 30, 2017 at 3:27 AM UTC
George walked
to the door
of his room.
Polly who
had been sitting
by the window said
where are you going?
I need fresh air
he said.
He went out
she followed
he walked along
the passage
down the stairs
his footsteps
walking slow
on each step.
She kept him in view
wondering if he
was going to have
another turn.
He crossed
the hall
looking
straight ahead.
She followed him
walking past
the new maid
who had replaced her
a timid girl who now
shared the room and bed
with Sally the maid
she once slept with
before George
came home
from the War
shell shocked.
George opened
the front door
went out
into the grounds.
Polly followed
closed the door
after her.
She watched
as he stopped
by the trees
peered
at the horizon.
She walked
close to him.
They're out there
some place
he said.
Who are George?
she said.
The ***
he said.
He stared
at the trees
in the distant
swaying.
See their big guns?
he said.
She watched
the trees sway.
Keep behind me
he said to her
snipers out there
he pointed across
the grounds.
There was
no one there
just the wind
and birds
no war sounds.
May 11, 2017
May 11, 2017 at 11:11 AM UTC
George lies
on his bed
in the dark.
I sit in the chair
by the window
curtains drawn.
I could have gone
through to the room
next door adjoined
by a door
where his man
used to sleep
before the War.
He joined
George's regiment
but was killed
just after George's
brain gave way
on the Somme.
I sit in case
he wakes
and panics
if I'm not here.
His parents
are not happy
that I am here
with him
but he insists
I am his wife
not the maid
he used to bed
while home
on leave
and before.
The nurse he had left
after George refused
to have her
in the room
and only me
to be there.
I wish
he was well
and back to how
he was
not this
broken man
who lies on his bed
in the dark
moaning through
another nightmare.
I peer through
the slit where
the curtains meet.
I see a narrow
wedge of field
and trees and sky.
I wonder what god
it was who brought
George back
but left
his man to die.
Apr 28, 2017
Apr 28, 2017 at 9:50 AM UTC
Having put George to bed
and after making sure
he was asleep
Polly goes to the adjoining room
where she has the bed
which was once
set aside for guests.
She closes the door
and looks around the room.
It is the best room
she has ever stayed in
better by far
than the room
in the attic
she once shared
with the other maid Susie.
There it was cold
and she had to share
the bed with Susie
who spent a good part
of the night hugging her.
Now she could
sleep in a bed
all by herself
and a bed
comfortable and warm.
She wishes she could share
George's bed as she used to
when he came home
on leave from the War
but now since his return
mentally broken
she can only watch
as he struggles
with his demons
and fears and sights seen.
But if he hadn't been
so attached to her
and imagined she
was his wife
she would still be
in the double bed
with Susie
up in the attic.
She undresses
and puts on
the nightgown
and climbs into bed alone.
She hugs the pillow
and wishes George was there
kissing her
and making love to her
as he used to do
in those stolen nights.
George asleep
in his own bed
sees frightful
and deadly
wartime sights.
Apr 6, 2017
Apr 6, 2017 at 3:41 AM UTC
The nurse had left.
George had improved little,
but got angry when the nurse
was about, and was only calmed
when Polly was in attendance;
so His father let the nurse go
and allowed Polly to nurse him.
Dudman didn't like it,
but could do nothing about it;
another maid was employed
to cover Polly's duties.
George sat in chair
by the window
staring out,
January sun
was dull in the sky,
clouds drifted slowly.
Polly tidied up the bed
and arranged
George's clothes
by the side.
Look at them,
George said,
pointing out the window,
creeping along the trench.
Polly went to the window
and peered out
where George pointed.
The old gardener and his boy
walked along by the hedge
carrying tools.
Germans, Polly, see them,
where's my gun?
George said anxiously.
Polly stood beside him:
it's Cartwright and his boy
walking by the hedge, George,
she said softly.
George peered hard:
Not Germans?
No not Germans,
Polly affirmed.
George sighed,
held Polly's hand.
Look like Germans,
he said.
She wished
he was well again,
not unhinged
by shells and gunfire.
Shell shock,
the doctor had said,
who came the other week
after George had a bad attack
of nerves and shouted
and hit out at the nurse.
Only Polly
calmed him down
and he held her
as he wept.
Dunton was there,
George said suddenly,
one minute there next gone,
blown apart,
blood on me
and his arm in the trench
a few feet away.
Polly hugged him,
kissed his head.
George saw about him
the walking dead.
Feb 5, 2017
Feb 5, 2017 at 8:55 AM UTC
The nurse
has left the room;
Polly tucks
George into bed,
settling him down.
Quieter now
after the shouting
and disturbance earlier.
He had been convinced
Quigly was out
in No Man's Land:
out there
he had said,
pointing over
the grounds at dusk,
moonlight
making shadows.
I'll send help for him,
Polly had said.
Don't loose
more men on that,
George had shouted.
His parents came out
rushing onto the verandah
to see what
the fuss was about.
The nurse had tried
to quieten George,
unsuccessfully.
Laughter from guests
in the house
brought George to tears.
Quigly's bought it,
George had moaned.
His eyes were large
and staring out
at the grounds
where stars
had glimmered.
Polly had managed
to get him back
in the house;
the nurse following behind,
eyeing them both.
George lies
with eyes closed.
Polly leans over him.
She wishes he was
as he was before the War
and his time at the Front
and the mental breakdown.
He'd have had her
in his bed by now,
and have ****** her
to joy and back.
Now he lies silent,
eyes shut.
She leans down
and kisses his forehead.
Him back
from the Front
half living,
half dead.
Jan 3, 2017
Jan 3, 2017 at 7:10 AM UTC
On his bed
in his room
George sees the remains
of Gilmore laid out
****** and foul smelling,
Polly tries
to get him
to lie down for a while
to rest
to calm his mind
and nerves,
Gilmore's remains
are laid there
he says
pointing to the bed
with a shaking finger,
Polly looks at the bed
where George's pyjamas
fresh cleaned lie
ready to put on,
George stares at her
move them
put them
some place else
he says
his finger
shaking faster,
Polly removes the pyjamas
and places them
on the dresser
over by the wall
and turns back to George,
I have laid them to rest
she says taking hold
of his shaking hand in hers
and taps it gently,
he mutters about
the stench of the trench
about the young soldier
who shook so much
when the whistle
to go over the top blew
he ****** himself
and shook so much
we left him there left him,
George stares ahead
at the bed holding on to
Polly's hands and mutters
left him there,
Polly wishes George
was his old self
and would take her
in his bed as he had
before the War came
now he shakes and stares
as if all around him
were explosions and flares.
Oct 25, 2016
Oct 25, 2016 at 3:13 PM UTC
English language remained father's maid servant
Who played with her beauty for thirty five years
He passed it on to us to take , to the bear brunt
We loved to be on the line to embrace the veers
We have a claim of native with spark of language
To cross the barriers it has provided us the bridge
We salute to our father who has given us courage
And helped us to portray and celebrate his image
Let be specific and clear in the standardized stance
Let us not give to any Tom,Dick and Harry a chance
Let us with the help of a powerful and strong glance'
Celebrate the prime occasion with intoxicated dance
Col Muhammad Khalid Khan
Copyright 2016 Golden Glow
Sep 21, 2016
Sep 21, 2016 at 6:39 AM UTC
You are not
to go into
Master George's room
unless told to
Dudman the butler says
eyeing her sternly
Susie can take
his meals to him
and the nurse there
can nurse him
Polly says nothing
and walks away
back to her task
of polishing silver
watching him go off
and talk to the cook
and nod his head
Polly wants
the old George back
not the broken man
the War has harmed
in mind and soul
she remembers
when he was home last
from the Front
she lay in his bed
and they made love
in the late hours
of the night
him shafting her
to a kingdom come
remember what I said
Dudman says
passing her by
with that dark stare
in his eye
Polly watches him go
wishes she could
but knows best not
the nurse will be there
and George will be sat
at the window
with his lost
faraway stare.
Jul 19, 2016
Jul 19, 2016 at 2:27 AM UTC
The nurse,
whom George's parents hired,
begins to settle him down
in his room,
after his parents and Polly
had left.
Where is she?
George says.
Where is whom?
the nurse asks.
Polly,
where is she?
The nurse is unsure
who Polly is,
so sits him
in a chair by the window,
which looks out
on the grounds and drive.
Is she your wife?
the nurse asks.
George looks at her:
I don't know,
maybe she is,
he says,
looking at the nurse puzzled:
who are you?
I am Nurse Willows,
sent you look after you,
she says.
Where's Polly?
he says.
I'll find out,
you relax and sit quiet,
the nurse says,
and leaves the room.
He stares out
of the window;
it is still,
no bombs are blowing up,
no bodies are out there
in trenches,
the trees are whole,
not splintered
and blown down.
He looks into the room:
Wilkes's head
lies on the floor
by the bed,
the eyes gazing
at him questioningly.
An explosion in his head
stirs him to jump
from the chair,
and run to the wall
where he stands shaking,
staring at the head.
Be careful Wilkes,
be careful,
he says.
He looks at his writing desk
large eyed,
a hand lies there,
palm upwards,
a finger bloodied
points towards him.
No no,
I can't,
he says.
He turns,
and the door opens,
and he shouts:
GET DOWN!
******
The nurse and Polly
stare at him,
then go to him.
Calm down,
the nurse says.
Polly takes his hand
and holds it:
it's all right George,
no one
will harm you here.
He looks at her childlike:
Polly,
you are here.
he says,
and holds her
close to him.
The nurse looks
at them uncertain
what to say or do.
Has he a wife?
she asks.
No not yet,
Polly says,
looking at the nurse
over George's shoulder,
as he hugs her
tight to him.
The door opens
and George's mother
enters in:
what is the noise?
He is unsettled,
the nurse says,
and called for Polly,
so I got her
not knowing
who she was.
The mother goes
to George and Polly:
settle him Polly,
then get back
to your work.
Polly nods.
Come on,
George,
his mother says,
you are home now,
time to rest.
George looks
at his mother
over Polly's shoulder:
who are you?
he asks.
I'm Mama,
she says.
He looks at Polly:
is she?
he says.
Polly nods:
yes George,
she is,
Polly says.
George turns away
from his mother,
and stares at Wilkes's head
on the floor by the bed,
the eyes gazing at him.
Get Wilkes's head
off the floor,
it can't stay there,
George says
pointing by the bed,
unable to get
the eyes gazing, out
of his mind and head.
Jul 12, 2016
Jul 12, 2016 at 2:27 AM UTC