Best Countess Poems
My vision this is Freya in her house;
a pastoral tranquility the sound
surrounding pretty Freya and her spouse.
A gentle cloud, she floats around and round,
moves room to room, and drifts upstairs to down.
She has no need to fret or rush about.
A countess she can be and don a gown;
inside her ballroom dance and not go out.
And in a garden spot, when troubles mount,
perhaps she sits; for solace, writes, head bowed
or dips a brush in paint, and by her count
is showered with the all that love’s allowed.
For in the lovely manor, on its grounds,
imaginings and dreams can know no bounds.
Written 7/7/14; Freya is a real person I know; but her manor is my imagining.
For Elly's Encore - anonymous positive new sonnet contest
Categories:
countess, poets,
Form:
Sonnet
— — — — — — — — -
Wrapped in silk, you hold my hand,
my countess.
Full of quiet fire and tenderness.
We ride winged horse carriages by our apricot plantation.
There by the sea,
wine and raspberries are waiting for us.
I fell asleep on the sand,
covered by the wind and your hand.
In front of us, a cove in stone is dreaming.
*
We are in the water together,
pure folds of passion.
An icosahedron enveloped by a cube,
Plato’s house is next to it.
You are the woman because of which I seek god’s power.
To change the water color
into a shade that will make you smile.
I call upon a long line of ancestors
and all the genealogy power.
By divine influence
I change the shade of the water.
I woke up your joy and laughter.
However, all my heavenly signs are quickly disappearing.
In your hands, I am an ordinary man.
Loved and happy.
*
Invisible contracts from the past are binding.
We flirt with who we indeed are,
leaving the empty shells behind.
In a world full of evil,
I know despair is not our destiny.
All the meat-fed hunger of ours,
made us converge for years,
to the same point of life
wisdom and understanding.
*
You are my notebook of joy
where I write the symbols
what the waves are whispering to me.
The semantics of the record is unknown
The lines cover your right shoulder
where only my pen can write.
When the record is finally done.
Melted by your warm embrace
I become a stone.
A monument to our love.
— -# — -
Categories:
countess, for her, love, passion,
Form:
Free verse
The violet tress of clover blossom,
marks the countess' winter solemn.
Her sorrow,
her cardinal wanton
for her prince,
falsely in prison.
There is no respite to her yearning.
There is no satiation to her craving.
There is no solvency to her predilection.
There is no end to her attraction.
There is no limit to her aspiration,
for her prince falsely in prison.
Her womb, her castle;
her vessel for seas
all barren wantonly.
Her ire turn rage.
Her wisdom lost sage.
For her prince caught trickily,
placed falsely in prison.
She thrusts her fists at the gyre.
She spins insults into coarse wire.
She wears poultices upon her attire.
Her paces a failed amble.
Her songs bell book and candle.
All to respite and retire,
her work to free entire,
her prince falsely in prison.
But times sands grow heavy on her face,
that turned to fright.
Her garden grows weeds then blight.
Her beauty fades from tensions tight.
Her loneliness becomes vulgar each night.
Her stolen union vanquished by mages.
Her desires robbed in vista mazes.
She stumbles through tomes and pages.
Lost now she babbles to rhythmic chorus.
Casts her blood and bruises;
casts her spirit into blazes.
Casts her lot where her grave's cleave raises.
Now no longer can she impart creation,
for her prince falsely in prison.
Categories:
countess, angst,
Form:
Rhyme
SHE IS LADY ZOYA
From rich bucket bills of grandeur bliss
Dawns wobbling chills from cruel treachery
Harsh is the murmur of the night, my Lady
Has Aidos spang slain as disgrace ink reign?
Swarm of bees threats and afire the days
Seems... to live life, one must be on break away
Gowns and golds gone like a storm
Tears a rain clouding the seeds of reform
Never-say-die attitude the tarring rock
Ah! The Lady Zoya got this trait in blocks
Shut down on countless turbulent thuds
Still, she arise like a Monarch from the mud
Royal blood dance viscous to her veins
But to burlesque shows, she swayed in vain
For her children: Nicholas and Sasha.
Her picturesque-like the late Princess Diana.
Huge fire almost killed her children
She changed. Later became, a fashion designer
Simon Hirsch saw a diamond from a spread of roughs
He married and dressed her in lovelier stuffs
The tambourine music of war took her husband life
Penthos again bathe her ever wounded thrive
Yet, love abounds never did she succumb
She strive to strum melodies from the crumbs
________________________________________________
**Zoya Konstantinovna Ossupov is a Russian countess,
a young cousin to Czar Nicholas II during the Russian revolution and World War I..
Terms:
Aidos: shame, can range from a sense of respect
Penthos: grief, suffering
©
9:38pm; November 11, 2014
Categories:
countess, girl, history, inspirational, strength,
Form:
Epic
Woman of rationality
not known to all men.
Countess of Mercia,
scent of a woman.
Lover of masses,
dream of sashes.
In anticipation
no other man tried,
Wooing the coveted one
fear of life taunts
nobody ever haunts.
A modest woman she was,
a clean woman that was.
Up in the hills
travels without fear,
down the hills she fills
with her voice people hear.
In many trails
she hops and drills.
In open seas
she crave for krills.
Strong woman thinks all,
grown woman walks tall.
In each flight she makes
no man's plight is at stake.
Never wondered how hard life is
In an instant, life heals.
For the strong woman without fierce
no hurting arrows can pierce.
Savagery is not bravery
for any lass of Coventry.
Thinking of good deeds that last
no heroism will rust.
Aigrettes pose as nobility,
not for lass of simplicity.
Half of Leofric,
Piece of heroic.
Levy for serfs,
burden of turfs.
Then one day casted
a lean woman's body...
body of beauty,
honor of beauty.
How the heroine perished
nobody cherished.
A living legend she was,
a myth that never was!
Categories:
countess, beauty, identity, image,
Form:
Lay
Sometimes i hit the store
purchase oldest pirates wine on the shelve.
Other times,
i take me out to a classy restaurant
dine mercilessly on the delicacies my tummy can handle.
But most times,
haha!this is my favorite!
I order new sweet scented shampoos and body sprays
right before they hit the shop floor
each for a new day;
to match my moods and feelings!
Oh!and ah,
DHL honking on my drive way
to deliver artifacts is also becoming quite a habit.
People don't understand why
"whats the point?" they wonder.
Why do all that for me?
Some say i am a material gal,
well,
there is no question about that.
But still,
they don't see the logic behind it!
most times,
i used to do it for fun,
to feel good,
to reward thy self,
for therapy,
or maybe,
because i have the means,
or to punish his highness with the invoice
when he doesn't keep his word.
Haha!
Really,
i don't know,
i didn't know either,
not till i realized;
ITS BECAUSE AM WORTH IT!
Am worth.The Tiffany diamonds and Akoya pearls flashing on me.
am worth.The hot air balloon ride across the Masai Mara,
am worth.That skinny dive at the Maldives,
am worth.A leisure shopping weekend in Dubai,
am worth.To be the countess,the duchess,the trophy wife,
am worth.All the finesse.
yeah!
Am worth.That priceless smile and the deep secrets,
am worth.All your appreciation and affection,
am worth.The sacrifice and the commitment,
am worth.Stability and fidelity,
am worth.The tears and the pain,
am worth.your unconditional forgiveness and faith,
am worth.The joy, peace and happiness,
am worth.All your trust,respect and endless love,
am worth.That extra mile, care and attention.
Indeed,
like the elusive 'milky way',
am definitely worth the find among the heavens.
so,
excuse me darling,
i need to sit back,
work on my tan,
and sip this Ruby Rose Cocktail,
because baby;
you know am worth the bill.
yeah that's right!
Am worth your name,
your dime,
your time
and your life!
Haha!
Cheeerrrssss!!!
Categories:
countess, how i feel, me,
Form:
ABC
White angel in the sky,
Wearing white satin dress,
Singing and flying up high,
Looking like a countess.
White wings flapping in the air,
In slow motion you like to stare,
Floating and waving merrily,
With a skin so soft and silky
Touching a cotton like cloud,
Lovely, mighty, and proud,
So pure that it gives us blinding light,
Shimmering like diamonds tonight.
November 12, 2012
8th Place Winner on Giorgio's Impress Me V (Old/New) poem contest
Categories:
countess, fantasy, imagination,
Form:
Rhyme
She lay on a black velvet bed,
With black roses engulfing her face,
That face so pale as moonlight, her lips red,
A mirage she is, waiting for his embrace,
So silent, a shadow, he enters the chamber,
With silent whispers, so sweet and so deep,
He walks up to her bed, his form grim and sombre,
Caressing her head says he “sleep my love, sleep”.
She raises her head and asks him to dance,
His wonder too strong; he takes off his cape,
And harpsichords play a moonlight romance,
Intertwined they dance as the moon shifts shape
His lust and her lust about to reveal,
In a tight embrace with him she shall stay,
Her virgin body and her mortal life he steals,
Changed and cold she is, forever such to stay.
Mortal she is not, he can hear her newborn heart,
Now when he is of her kind, death can’t tear them apart,
Two black shadows woosh into the night, ready for their feast,
She is his countess, and he her lover, the beauty and the beast.
THE WOLF’S LULLABY
Categories:
countess, change, cute love, gothic,
Form:
Upturned Chinese roofs
In a soft silhouette
Look so majestic
On top of the hill—
Encompassed in fog
In low light and shadows,
Quite simply surreal—
Boats filled with refugees
Fleeing Shanghai from
The Japanese invasion
‘Midst the chaos of war.
Gentle waves lap against
Boat hulls in dire contrast
To the noisy bomb blasts.
As shown on drawn faces
Fear and faith interlaces
With a hopeful resolve.
Comrades of all races
Are joined in this throng.
They sail away to far places
Not knowing their fate,
As in divine kinship
They now all belong.
Note* I was inspired to write this piece by a wonderful
movie I watched called The White Countess.
Categories:
countess, faith, family, history, life,
Form:
Verse
The Arrogance of Wealth
By Elton Camp
“Dowager Countess” you must call me
Any familiarity and evil will befall ye
I am a very wealthy aristocrat
I am sure you are jealous of that
I hold a most lofty station in life
Free from mundane tasks or strife
When I speak, all present must heed
Servants fulfill my smallest need
Not the least disrespect will I allow
In my presence you are to kowtow
My superior kind of people are few
I have little use for the likes of you
English people I can barely tolerate
But Americans I most intensely hate
King, queen, duke or earl I entertain
A lowly baron outside must remain
If you do not go along with tradition
Then I shall assign you to perdition
Over Downton I once did preside
My son still there does reside
So always remember just who I am
Respectfully address me as “Ma’am”
Categories:
countess, humorous, people, me, people,
Form:
Rhyme
Tour of British Isles
We always knew it was inevitable
British Isles tour would be incredible
And even the way all of it ends
When we would run into some friends.
Sometimes I am old and persnickety
Sure like things that are serendipity
Singers we had heard on British Isles
And each one of their various styles.
We always saw smiles on each face
Was green looking great all over the place
Were many gardens, churches and statues
Cathedrals and palaces along long avenues.
Spring and Great Britain busted out all over
Also saw a countess driving her Land Rover
With small dog and palace started to enter
Of attention she certainly was the center.
Around here and there were many ruins
With some ghosts that could be Druids
Is what we heard and had discovered
With magpies and ravens that hovered.
This poem might not be totally correct
But if you like could always elect
To take my poem and contest enter in
How proud would be and this not offend.
James Thomas Horn, Retired Veteran and Poet
Two week tour and cruise around British was
great and very interesting as well as cold.
Categories:
countess, travel,
Form:
Couplet
My Sometimes Song
I once knew a poet called Rhoda Monihan,
Who was thought always to visit the Sanhedrin,
By her parents who said,
That god was not dead,
But she did happily voice her opinion!
For Laura Loo's Famous Last Line contest:
But She Did Happily Voice Her Opinion!
But she did happily voice her opinion!
Even though she was a woman cross dresser,
Rejected by those who were family familiar,
And made to feel like a used can or onion.
An atheist as well amongst Christians,
Not slack and did not just float into atheism,
Not apathetic to philosophy and to skepticism,
Prepared to remark upon and criticise turbans.
No blond hair to indicate purity and righteousness,
No blondness to propose truth and good,
Just black hair, normal and with no mood,
To pacify the quick spirited, pious countess.
What gave her the right to speak?
Her body: her legs, arms and voice;
Her mouth or voice said she had a choice,
About which she was not often weak.
1st March 2016
Categories:
countess, anti bullying, conflict, feelings,
Form:
Rhyme
The countess Olivia fails to realize
that this page named Cesario is a woman in disguise.
As a messenger, Cesario is just one more.
Again, Olivia has to chase another from her door.
I understand that Duke Orsino has the hots for me.
However, I being a lover of his cannot be.
I am becoming very annoyed because of this.
You should go back and tell him to mind his own business.
Hold on there, young page named Cesario.
You look like someone I would like to get to know.
A handsome young man with good manners is what I see.
Perhaps you would be a good match for me.
In the near future, you and I could keep each other company.
based on the play "Twelfth Night" by William Shakespeare
Categories:
countess, literature, love,
Form:
Rhyme
She rode the train to glory,
Her star was shining throughout the territory,
They called her the princess with red hair,
Her eyes were blue and skin so fair,
When she danced on stage the cowboys whistled,
While all the women folk bristled.
Her given name was Nancy Smith,
A plain-Jane name given by kith,
One day a broken mirror caught her beauty,
She then changed her name to Redonna Agouti,
Her hand-bills listed her as the dancing Italian,
A countess who two-stepped with the battalion.
Redonna's heart and soul was with dancing,
Her famous legs wouldn't quit prancing,
She was the queen of the gaudy stage,
Wearing her purple plume in a suspended cage,
She caught the eye of a cowboy named Ranger,
She fell in love at first sight with this stranger.
He asked her to dance a waltz with him,
They kept dancing until the gaslights were dim,
Both of them were smitten with the love bug,
Before the night was over he gave her a hug,
Ranger proposed after the first kiss,
Redonna said yes since she was in bliss.
The Italian countess and cowboy were married,
For forty happy years until they were buried,
Their tombstones lay side-by-side,
With a drawing each of a groom and bride,
And her engraved inscription read,
Nancy Smith Smith, Loving Wife of Ranger Smith.
She rode the train to glory...
November 10, 2017
Choose a Topic Contest
Subject: (A) Love and Romance
Categories:
countess,
Form:
Rhyme
Do you want me to leave you without tears?
Can I part, my beloved, without grief?
But separation drives shaft deep that sears
Thus my heart wounded dying most too brief.
Remembrance steals its way in like a thief.
Your sweet embrace is memory, yet there’s fears.
Adieu forever line is my belief;
Do you want me to leave you without tears?
For she does play the harlot sweet one hears,
And I do suffer having no relief,
Though sneering rogues give me now mocking jeers
Can I part, my beloved, without grief?
Such maledictions’ a fast turning leaf,
In life’s book warning me of sharpened spears
That try to pierce this hooded cloak all lief
But separation drives shaft deep that sears.
Her indiscretions cry to my sad ears,
A life of disharmonic notes motif.
Salacious living style that nay endears;
Thus my heart wounded dying most too brief.
Can I but take a something stellar chief
Her garter mayhaps mine to keep through years
Much better yea than countess’ lace kerchief
With wise wish my hurt brain now surely cheers
Do you want me.
Categories:
countess, grief,
Form:
Rondeau Redouble