"handmaid" poems
~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
But I am relieved.
Not being confined in bright velvets
of the West, or shimmering silks of
the East. Each hand-stitched with
animals and flowers, crystals and
furs, with gold and silver to
parade around in Court.
~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
I find far more splendour in a simple
iris-purple kimono-robe, lightweight,
silk-satin and printed with lilies with
a pink silk trim. It strokes my ankles,
and the sleeves, they billow; the sash
firmly fastened around my waist.
~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
My handmaid, Ilazi, presents a gilded
bowl with the purest form of fruits -
the ones that were rain-washed. I have
a variety to choose from - strawberries,
blueberries, peaches, green, red and
black grapes which I pick and nibble
on. Hmm, a succulent balance of
sweetness and ****
~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
And then my senior handmaid, Anihana,
arrives with a tray in hand, clearly made
from stainless steel with rose-gold accents.
'Sweet Queen,' says she. At the wave of my
hand, the music stops. 'Forgive me for
keeping you waiting. I know how particular
you are with your pearls so I narrowed
them to your favourite three choices.'
~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
'Thank you,' I say and as I lean up, she
presents three cream-hued scrolls.
'Lists,' says she, 'of all the ship's
inventory. Would you like to
inspect them, my lady?'
'I will after some tea, Ainhana,
thank you.'
~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
Anihana nods and moves by my side
as my eyes fall on the tray's contents.
A small silver five-minute sand-timer,
a glass teapot with bamboo handle,
an infuser and steel lid half filled
with hot water; steam dancing
out of the spout. Then, a lovely
glass teacup, one of the most
beautiful I've seen yet.
~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
Aug 4, 2018
Aug 4, 2018 at 7:48 AM UTC
✿⊰✲⊱✿
The air filled with laughter and cheers, leaving me
and Ainhara on the hill
"Oh dear," my handmaid smiles. "It appears it will be a long night.
Parting Paul from our sweet Esshi will prove difficult."
"Difficult but not impossible," I chime. "Come, Ainhara,
let us enjoy the rest of the night!"
'My wish came true tonight,' I beam.
'I will always remember this fantastic gala...' as I enter
the main dining hall with all my friends from near and far,
all my friends of many cultures as we join in laughter, in
glee, ever hopeful for the future of our thriving Kingdoms.
With every sip of wine, every nibble of the fine
dishes, all of our bonds have strengthened.
So now, let us be like the lanterns,
and rises together, sailing through the horizons
to touch the Heavens above.
Eager for the adventures ahead...
Aug 28, 2018
Aug 28, 2018 at 6:50 PM UTC
She had that
octopus smile,
always reaching for
something.
I was her small
fish; her handmaid.
I lived in her nebulous
world for far too long.
Inky confusion...
There's a reason for
your treason, said the
old man to the shark,
but Hem forgot, a beast
is a beast, they do
beastly things.
We all have to eat.
I'm done being the
meal.
It's your Ocean,
I'm just trying to
swim in it.
You're an oyster,
and I want your
pearl,
but I won't drown
for it.
Nov 16, 2021
Nov 16, 2021 at 7:34 AM UTC
Air is perfume-light
Elbows sank in my pillow
I wake from slumber
Chamber door opens
Handmaiden brings good tidings
from outer Kingdoms
Holds a silver tray
With scones, jam and honey for
some chamomile tea
Steaming hot china
which I blow and gently sip
I hum in delight
Come, some scrambled eggs
With toast and ice-cold fresh fruits
Lemon slice in tea
The handmaiden speaks
As she opens the curtains
The sun shines brightly
Many ships have docked
My kingdom grows in strength
and in its beauty
Another handmaid
Holding a tray of pure gold
I see its contents
White and gold letters
Written by your regal hands
Kingdoms near and wide
Handmaids open them
So many sweet messages
Blessings and congrats
While sipping my tea
I ask for my page and quill
Write with golden ink
Jul 28, 2018
Jul 28, 2018 at 12:04 PM UTC
Match, match forward and go, you heroic sons of America
Reconnoiter into the strongholds of boko haram,
And restore our captive girls from the foul custody,
Lawlessly held hostage by the connoisseurs of terror,
Go on and recover poor souls from ribald of religion
Impishly created by Moslem from the satanic verses,
Regulating foray of terror on the poor of the poor
****** mahyeming, looting and executing massacres,
Match on and on yee angels of democracy,
Don’t stop in any haste or in any wonder,
To help in the sham flabbergastations,
About the Igbos who fought the Biafra,
And the Yorubas who federally defended,
Under the aegis of Obasanjo the Sandhurst
General, where are they all to save the girls
Of Nigeria from the Islamist terror
Excuted by boko haram the handmaid of evil.
Jun 6, 2014
Jun 6, 2014 at 10:59 AM UTC
Oh what is that country
And where can it be,
Not mine own country,
But dearer far to me?
Yet mine own country,
If I one day may see
Its spices and cedars,
Its gold and ivory.
As I lie dreaming
It rises, that land;
There rises before me
Its green golden strand,
With the bowing cedars
And the shining sand;
It sparkles and flashes
Like a shaken brand.
Do angels lean nearer
While I lie and long?
I see their soft plumage
And catch their windy song,
Like the rise of a high tide
Sweeping full and strong;
I mark the outskirts
Of their reverend throng.
Oh what is a king here,
Or what is a boor?
Here all starve together,
All dwarfed and poor;
Here Death's hand knocketh
At door after door,
He thins the dancers
From the festal floor.
Oh what is a handmaid,
Or what is a queen?
All must lie down together
Where the turf is green,
The foulest face hidden,
The fairest not seen;
Gone as if never
They had breathed or been.
Gone from sweet sunshine
Underneath the sod,
Turned from warm flesh and blood
To senseless clod;
Gone as if never
They had toiled or trod,
Gone out of sight of all
Except our God.
Shut into silence
From the accustomed song
Shut into solitude
From all earth's throng,
Run down though swift of foot,
Thrust down though strong;
Life made an end of,
Seemed it short or long.
Life made an end of,
Life but just begun;
Life finished yesterday,
Its last sand run;
Life new-born with the morrow
Fresh as the sun:
While done is done for ever;
Undone, undone.
And if that life is life,
This is but a breath,
The passage of a dream
And the shadow of death;
But a vain shadow
If one considereth;
Vanity of vanities,
As the Preacher saith.
3.2k
There's a girl from Loyang in the door across the street,
She looks fifteen, she may be a little older.
...While her master rides his rapid horse with jade bit an bridle,
Her handmaid brings her cod-fish in a golden plate.
On her painted pavilions, facing red towers,
Cornices are pink and green with peach-bloom and with willow,
Canopies of silk awn her seven-scented chair,
And rare fans shade her, home to her nine-flowered curtains.
Her lord, with rank and wealth and in the bud of life,
Exceeds in munificence the richest men of old.
He favours this girl of lowly birth, he has her taught to dance;
And he gives away his coral-trees to almost anyone.
The wind of dawn just stirs when his nine soft lights go out,
Those nine soft lights like petals in a flying chain of flowers.
Between dances she has barely time for singing over the songs;
No sooner is she dressed again than incense burns before her.
Those she knows in town are only the rich and the lavish,
And day and night she is visiting the hosts of the gayest mansions.
...Who notices the girl from Yue with a face of white jade,
Humble, poor, alone, by the river, washing silk?
2.6k
Daylight in the castle,
there is the king and the queen.
She is of Europe, floats like a bee
upon clouds, these saltwater beacons
drenching for her hair to dampen black.
And he thinks she seems angelic,
each morning, opening umbrella limbs
stars & stripes he gave her last night.
Shine and prim kiss-kneads,
nobody can tell that he loves me.
The pond across the way, I drown
in the flesh-earth, memory of our space
just ruffles swaddling where he tastes.
I am his handmaid as I am queen,
when light surfaces on my snowbank
ever ghosting the skin of knobby-knees.
Daylight in the castle,
beams for more than just a queen –
clumsy, odorless of the love she’s seen.
Nov 3, 2012
Nov 3, 2012 at 6:17 PM UTC
The Pyramid is the Messenger
of the Spirit world after we pass on.
We all must resolve to consecrate
our actions to the Pyramid there.
The Orb is the handmaid that
every soul is given for its care.
Dec 22, 2020
Dec 22, 2020 at 4:03 PM UTC
I was given a riddle where the waters run red
I was given hope from a forgotten friend
I found a hard stone lying in the soft grass
I sat and I waited for more time to pass
With each breath, the clouds drifted by
The song bird hummed and the day became night
A crack in the distance as the land split in two
The handmaid fled to an evening rendezvous
Bright ripples formed in the fabric of time
I showed up and found I was last in line
I peered at my watch looking for answers
The clock exclaimed “now!” and the futures been canceled
And though the cold tightens my skin
And the cricket sings my song
The road is full of twists, turns and heartache
But it was never very long
Sep 8, 2021
Sep 8, 2021 at 5:13 PM UTC
*An exotic orchid, of the mountains, her smile was scented invitation
a jocular honey bee, elated by her fragrance, than nectar, he was.
Covered all over with her pollen , he felt fulfilled, an instinct deeply hidden. prompting.
"To me memories are to be perfect" said, the handmaid of whimsy
"But when I am gone" sighed she "None will ever remember me"
he too felt sad, doleful was her mood and the words,
he fell silent , thought for a long moment and replied:
"Let me be candid about this, though to your fragrance I've given my heart,
unless the offer of honey is implicit, why should I come searching for you?
We both give and take too, that's the prompt of nature true,
we can't help it, that's why we do; more than that all nature decides"
The flower stood mute and wistful, then serenely smiled,
it was time for them to part, the wind whistled its sly message.*
Jun 5, 2013
Jun 5, 2013 at 10:02 PM UTC
The blockbuster sequel
To The Handmaid's Tale,
Will star one lonely,
But very safe male,
In,
The Handjobber's Tale.
No LGBTQ?,
No human, animal, child, politician, religious person, flora, fauna, fish, bird or insect will be in this movie,
But him.
Jan 25, 2018
Jan 25, 2018 at 9:22 PM UTC
If you take away our literature, you take away our sight.
We become the blinded king of nowhere.
When we look out on the world beyond the valley of ashes,
we will conceal our eyes and
forget that you don’t need a pair of glass slippers to be Cinderella.
We will forget that we need need to be home by midnight,
because after midnight it’s so dark
that you might go out hunting and mistake a mockingbird for a crow,
or a crow for a raven.
When we try to use our words, words, words, they will cut out our tongues
and force us to play a game that leaves us more hungry than satisfied.
This is because instead of pure knowledge, we are being spoon fed a corrupted education,
and we will no longer eat alphabet soup without our big brother standing over our shoulder preaching to us about the glorious future that will be 1984,
and we will all be forced to live in that cowardly, old world.
And there they will lead us like lambs to the slaughter.
Where if they see the spark of curiosity
they will try to wash it out like the ****** spot they see it to be.
We will forget why the caged bird sings
and why the baby’s gravestone only said Beloved.
They will paint an A on our chest which will stand for absent,
as in absent from the conversation because
we are not able to comprehend what they are saying.
We will not find joy in the poetry written on baseball glove
because we will not know how to read it,
and we will never be the catcher
because we will all be separate and and still not live in peace.
When we come to a fork in the road
we will take the path that everyone else has traveled on,
because we have not learned to stand on our own two feet.
Which means that we will never be able to find Alaska or
where the fault is in our stars.
We will not hear the stories of what happened to the handmaid,
and they will tell us if we are brave, kind, honest, intelligent, or selfless,
because you can only be one.
Our whole lives we will never have pride, but we will accept their prejudice.
We will hear the heartbeat in the floor boards and blame it on the wind.
When we find ourselves stranded we will reach for the conch and fight over it,
because we will all be stuck between a rock and a hard place,
and when the sirens of our society call to us with lies about what our future will be,
we will jump from the boat and swim towards our deaths.
because life without books is just as good as no life at all.
We will lay dying in coffins that our children build for us
as unspoken poets with our heads in the oven.
We will be condemned to make the past our future
and we will watch as they test what they can burn at 451 degrees.
And finally when we all sit down and accept the bibliocaust they have stoked,
we will forget the things our dear friends
Ellie and Anne warned us about what can happen in an annex or in the night.
Feb 19, 2015
Feb 19, 2015 at 10:49 PM UTC
EᔕᔕᕼI
~ ⚪♫⚪ ~
Esshi and Ainhara look around the
shop. Thankfully, it is just them.
'One less thing to worry about...' Esshi
sighs as she looks at Ainhara, the
concern in her eyes is clear.
~ ⚪♫⚪ ~
"Shh!" Lyn waves her hand and stops
them from bowing. "Please don't
bow. And don't call me Your Grace,
either." Bree and Michael stand straight.
"Please, I just want to temporarily
escape and enjoy the day."
~ ⚪♫⚪ ~
"Of course, your secret is safe with
us, Your High- I mean... Nyl..."
Michael says and they nod.
"It's a honour to have you here.
You and your handmaidens."
Bree says, eyes shining.
~ ⚪♫⚪ ~
"The honour is ours!" Esshi says.
"If you would be so kind to-"
"Not inform anyone? We won't."
Michael promises them with a
reassuring smile. "But I will say
that we are glad to see that you
are well, my lady."
~ ⚪♫⚪ ~
"Thank you." Lyn sighs. "Ainhara."
Her handmaid digs into the basket
and brings out some gold coins
and a few gems. "Here. Please
accept this. Also know that I will
send a few gifts your way for
keeping my secret."
"You are far too kind, Nyl."
Bree teases.
Sep 30, 2018
Sep 30, 2018 at 3:55 PM UTC
✿⊰✲⊱✿
I stand in front of a baroque mirror; grand,
gold, gilded with leaves, grapes, dolphins
angels, swans and shells. So wonderful, and
proud on my chamber wall. And in it, I see
myself in a fitted dress, velvet, and of the
deepest plum kissed by gold-jacquard; a
single, heart-shaped Tanzanite suspended
from the girdle belt; the skirts trailing
behind me.
✿⊰✲⊱✿
I marvel how the light hits the embroidered
florals with pearls and diamonds; they sweetly
glint and wink, sending shards of the rainbow
around my room. Around my slim throat,
a pendant, a coin with lace doily pattern,
and amethyst at the core the size of
a robin's egg.
✿⊰✲⊱✿
Across my forehead, a golden diadem
decorated with filigree, beaded with pearls,
delicate gem tendrils and patterned with
lotuses and lilies, the symbol of my proud
Aurelinaea. As I tuck a black curly ringlet
behind my ear, my earrings twinkles,
tear-cut, Tanzanite, with gold filigree.
✿⊰✲⊱✿
"My Lady has had a long day indeed,"
my senior handmaid Ainhana smiles
and waves her hands, her menagerie of
handmaids begin to help me undress.
Removing the jewellery, removing my
diadem, unlacing my dress and
removing my corsets and heels.
"You must be relieved that it is over."
✿⊰✲⊱✿
"Yes I am," I sigh as a handmaid presents
my iris-purple kimono robe which I slip
into. Another maid presents a large bowl of
rosewater while the other held a silver tray,
upon it, a milk-white towel spun from rose-silk.
I proceed to wash the make-up from my face.
The delicate aroma fills my nose, as my skin
feels cleaner, feels purer. As the waters drip,
I use the towel to wipe my face and pat
the rosy drops down.
Aug 19, 2018
Aug 19, 2018 at 4:10 AM UTC
I am the handmaid,
You are the master,
The price of your swimsuit,
Is twice the price of my winter clothing,
Your well-manicured hands,
Tire not of rubbing the dirt off my face,
Your eyes pleading,
I let myself love you back.
Jan 13, 2015
Jan 13, 2015 at 7:03 AM UTC
She had that
octopus smile,
always reaching for
something.
I was her small
fish; her handmaid.
I lived in her nebulous
world for far too long.
Inky confusion...
There's a reason for
your treason, said the
old man to the shark,
but Hem forgot, a beast
is a beast, they do
beastly things.
We all have to eat.
I'm done being the
meal.
It's your Ocean,
I'm just trying to
swim in it.
You're an oyster,
and I want your
pearl,
but I won't drown
for it.
Jan 16, 2025
Jan 16, 2025 at 2:35 PM UTC
My dreams are painted clean
Tucked and trimmed by a sewing machine
My mother's face is wrinkle free
And smiling for eternity.
My father's voice is soft and kind
My brother's eyes are sparkling blind
My sister's arm is thick and strong
My family line is clean and long.
My pencil fertile, conscious itself
Collecting brilliance without my help
My headache gone, my nostrils clear
Breathing sea air gushing near.
Inspiration well stocked, character for sale
My clothes well spun like a handmaid's tale
Garden promise behind shut doors
This is what my dreams are for.
May 6, 2019
May 6, 2019 at 9:35 AM UTC
Autumn handmaid of summer
Clinging greedily to its green
Unwilling to let go of life
It vies with gold to be seen
Leaves glowing richly in sun
Changing slowly russet red
Or glorious butter yellow
Their beauty turns my head
A soft breeze stirs in the trees
Gently coaxing their wealth away
But there is a reluctance
To let the season have full sway
A carpet of their fallen bounty
Lies strewn here beneath my feet
And now the wind grows wilder
Drowning nature’s last heartbeat
Autumn herald of winter
A ghost in the evening mist
Abandoned and forever lost
Like a lover never kissed
Oct 13, 2017
Oct 13, 2017 at 8:33 PM UTC
I want it.
Must,
We must.
For it all to succeed and flourish,
kindness, growth, progress,
the key?
That's where we come in.
The goddesses-
the mothers, the heroines, the geniuses, the politicians, the doctors, the sisters, the actors, the saviours-
The Females.
The stars of the show!
The ones to carry a being,
only for them to turn out to be ungrateful, disrespectful, abusers.
of what?
Trust,
Mostly.
Jan 3, 2018
Jan 3, 2018 at 7:55 AM UTC
Watch out, women! Across the country
Privileged white men are taking
Steps that will abolish for you
The right to your own decision-making.
Ah, these white, privileged men
Think that they are justified
In having complete control, as though
"The Handmaid's Tale" is their guide.
Something that isn't an easy decision
Will still not be yours to be made
If these white, privileged men
Continue to carry out their crusade.
If these privileged lawmakers
Get their way--just so you know--
And if you choose to defy their decree,
Off to prison you will go.
How these men love to decide
What you should or shouldn't do!
How these men love the power
To know what is best for you!
Once your rights are severely restricted
And these white men are on a roll,
Just watch as they then proceed
To tamper with your birth control.
Women all, be vigilant!
You must act before it's too late.
You'll be stripped of your rights. Is that
Something you will tolerate?
-by Bob B (5-10-19)
May 10, 2019
May 10, 2019 at 9:39 AM UTC