some of my poetry with various themes and subjects
here is a list of the titles of my poems below:
Maid Of All Work
My Blonde
Voyage Of The Night
Sunset Lady
Glimmering Moon
I love To Cuddle Down In The Coze (with my furry cat)
What Does It Mean?
Windbourne
Crushed Flower
Formless As The Waves
Desert In The Night
Crushed Flower
all are copyright Mary Brett
Maid Of All Work
She lies upon her sofa,
in seas of silk and lace.
Small, and girlishly slender,
dark ringlets round her face.
A pale pink satin slipper,
she needles as she lies.
While, flush-cheeked in her pallor,
she coughs, and twisting, sighs.
Outside in the hallway,
the floor is carpet bare.
A large, fair buxom maiden,
kneels scrubbing the floorboards there.
A dress of plain brown sackcloth,
eclipses her strong plump form.
And nothing but a mobcap,
does her pinned-up plait adorn.
The floor is looking spotless,
yet still she scrubs and scrubs!
Then, breathlessly she pauses,
and once again she rubs.
The swelling biceps ripple,
upon her pale bare arms;
built from her heavy housework,
and when she toiled on farms:
Turning the mangles' handle,
dragging coal upstairs,
kneading bread in the kitchen,
mending and darning tears,
she's helper of the mistress,
fond sharer of her life,
the one who does the rough work,
not seemly for the wife.
Her colouring's so soothing,
like milk, and lint, and moon,
a glut of yielding pallor,
that strikes the rarest boon -
to senses like poor Ringlets',
who though this hour lies calm,
lives tossed o'er crests of passion,
that threaten her with harm.
Most fragilely quite normal,
as long as she lies still,
Ringlets's day's now starting,
with rest as she lies ill.
She's always had maidservants;
usually, two or three.
Now, while there's only Gerta,
she'll still of toil be free.
For, between all her scrubbing,
and dragging coal upstairs,
making meals in the kitchen,
darning, and mending tears,
Gerta puts on a fresh dress,
of blue, and lacey cap,
joins in the days dressmaking,
And fulfils each needs gap.
And now the day has ended,
by whose side will she be,
but, poor delicate Ringlets,
who coughs near-endlessly;
to rally, with her presence,
and lull all pains away.
This nursing, without flagging,
despite her workhorse day.
_____________________
My Blonde
My blonde, like a silver moonbeam,
Which sears through a chink of curtain,
Slowly, magically lures my gaze,
Towards her awesome beauty.
Lights my way in the darkness.
Her hair, eyebrows, eyelashes,
Seem made of lint, or endless milk,
Murmuring 'Mother'. Softness, snuggles, provision.
No force, resistance do I sense,
In the strength of her!
Soul, as tints, of form, sea eyes,
Yields, submissive liquids.
Filling my cup, cooling my brow, she gives to me.
From pain-racked hell, her healing power, sets me free.
_____________________________________
Voyage Of The Night
In the arms of a yellow-haired woman,
all the night is bright.
All darkness gone, the despondency of the day,
slowly ebbs away.
No terror’s left now, as I sink into a warmness,
which knows me, and welcome me.
Waiting, for me to complete the missing piece,
of love’s scheme so beautiful.
All the turmoil in the ether’s gone,
for both of us,
as she holds me close, and knows that I am safe now.
Her body a ship, her head a moon of gold,
which steers us through, enticing, sparkling seas.
_________________________
Sunset Lady
Sunset lady
sinking deep into the night that is your hair
a rose is wilting
at your bedside
but you've violets, blooming
Sunset lady
slipping now into the seas that shimmer close
the tide is turning
but as it takes you
let me be your, moonrise.
___________________
Glimmering Moon
glimmering moon,
past the window's lace;
shimmering light,
caressing my face;
bring me sweet dreams,
and grant me a boon;
ferry my true love,
to my life soon.
stars up above,
in the velvet night,
portent not gloom,
but gift with delight.
Then, when the dawn breaks,
so rosily,
leave me some previews,
of what's to be.
____________
I Love To Cuddle Down In The Coze
I love to cuddle down in the coze,
in the coze, in the coze,
I love to cuddle down in the coze,
with my furry cat.
I love to hear winds howl outside,
howl outside, howl outside,
and hear the rain hit the windowpane,
while I’m snug with my cat.
We know what’s important,
me and him, conspired in sin,
wallowing in the perfection,
of fully indulging sleepiness.
The twink, the wink of the yellow eye;
the endless yawn and the blissful sigh.
Everything everyone else can wait,
for the world outside, is just too cold.
So pliantly supple,
he twines himself ‘round the crook of my neck;
my one last cold spot.
Oh the world outside, it’s just too cold.
____________________________
What Does It Mean?
What does it mean,
when you whisper to me within a dream:
with hair like a sheet of beaten gold,
with pearl-white arms round me enfold?
And I sense an arbour,
a riot of roses, around a swing,
sweet where you cling?
What does it mean?
________________
Windbourne
let me be now,
blossom drifting in the wind in Spring for you;
a butterfly flitting, by some flowers in Summer for you;
in Autumn, dancing colourful leaves;
in Winter, snowflakes past the trees;
and the earth, just felt, peaceful in silence.
______________
Formless As The Waves
life's ship of time moves on,
as I leave my love for you behind in a soldered casket,
dropped to the ocean bed.
The piece of heaven inside that is so small,
that it's larger than everything -
outside of all this, travel and flux and change.
So my love can reach you wherever you are,
as I gaze at you from the earth's most distant star.
Oh never fear I have left you, float afar,
for we bond, together still,
as formless as the waves.
_______________________
Desert In The Night
I am a desert in the night for you,
nothing left, black empty space,
through which winds sough and leave no trace.
Did you expect anything else?
After my aeons of time,
striving to make connections, find,
acceptance, love?
Share, if only a little, of what’s good?
Well, at least I wasn’t, from the start,
a desert in the night like you, -
only a black and empty space,
cold sands whip through and leave no trace.
At least I tried.
_____________________
Crushed Flower
you crushed the blooming flower of love
threw it down into the gutter
watched it float down to the sea
it would have blossomed annually
you were a curse over my blight
you were a stone gave for my hunger
you crushed the blooming flower of love
and yet it lingers
________________
all copyright Mary Brett