Elizabeth Bathory Wakka
Was awfully good in the sacka
She'd jump on your face
And writhe with such grace
Then spit out her bright red tobakka.
I've been feeling the critics lately,
They've been quiet but murmuring.
Miss Heart, from the trauma...
And the medicine I abandoned her for, through force.
Lady Liver and Dame Kidney,
Who I legally and knowingly abused for years.
Monarch Mind and her anxieties,
Who I didn't, nor couldn't keep from harm.
The critics... They're gathering .
Mrs Microbiome, married to my choices and unable to divorce.
Countess of Amygdala,
Begging her now, not to go to war again.
Her Highness, Queen Fascia...
Hardens again monthly to be broken free.
Sitting frustrated at dinner,
Their host is hard to be kind too these days.
The menu must evolve again,
It's critical to improve retention and reviews.
Drip drop pitter patter,
Not even a storm can hide the sound of blood splatter,
Down her leg the drops glide,
Like the moon chasing after the evening tide,
Flooding freely without a care,
Out it sneaks from the dragon's lair.
Precious stream with a story to tell,
Promising heaven, delivering hell,
Bathe in moonlight,
Dance in the woods,
Smear this red on your riding hood.
Bloody countess, Sanguine sensation,
Blessed crimson revive my vocation,
I invoke your messiness to hearken my rebirth,
I am now the drop that falls to the earth.
Mathematician, Ada the Countess of Lovelace
Long before computers came, computing was her space!
A daughter of poet Lord Byron and a visionary was she
Places, plaques, and paintings honoring her we now may see
A young beauty, the Countess of Sweeney,
was romanced by a magical genie.
While their romance was fervent,
there was just one deterrent:
he, regrettably, had a wee weenie.
Unfortunately, this magic genie
had only limited powers, you see.
He could not wish for his dong
to be long, massive and strong,
t'was against rules of genie-icity.
So the countess (her first name was Didi)
eventually moved to Tahiti.
She then soon had a tryst
with a geologist
who was endowed with something more meaty.
Eventually, the lonely genie
luckily found himself a new sweetie.
She was small and petite
and willingly discreet
which suited his diminutive weenie.
An initiative unforeseen
Supported by the Countess Aberdeen
Motivated several politicians and were
Encouraged to convene
In the year of 1920
When issues were aplenty
Delegates backed the Cork City charter
And elected MacSwiney, our dear martyr
Yet as many were to grieve
Others would also leave
They were faced with a new mandate
Upon founding the Irish Free State
However not everyone was happy
And things got rather scrappy
With views diverging ever-more
Making it hard to keep the score
The dust took a while to settle
And tested our civic institutions’ mettle
Though issues were left unsolved
Causing city councils to be dissolved
New problems were to be addressed
That would get the people rousing
Occupied with public works and housing
Making the managers obsessed.
That’s an oversimplification
For a topic deserving of dilation
An overview of a creation
Being the Municipal Association
PURPLE
Purple my soft moss seat in paradise
amethyst crown purple so wise
High Priestess purpled silken silent and bold
has no need to compete with cool
Countess whose court is neat
but oh so cold !
What a sweet treat to see
ripe ripple granadilla purpled fall from tree
she made an indigo way from leafy branch
to loamy Earth to juicy kiss my feet
landing on delicate fairy roots with a scarlet beat
Purple irises erect rows in park holler
such powerful maidens compete not for dollars chased by bookie rookie scholars who fail
to see abundance in nature’s holy colour
divinely composed with innocent hues of valour
How humans sniffle and snuffle when they
seek lilac happiness in ludicrous money
all they need do is close their eyes to
visualise dining on purple aubergine,
mauve butter bean laced with dripping honey
in violet chameleon coves hosting bunnies
watching a shimmering sunset
holy purple burble !
Tyranny wears no single face—
it dances in silk and iron,
in laughter rippling through marble halls,
in jeweled cups brimming with poison.
Here stand five shadows cloaked in power:
the Jade Empress who penned her conquests in ink of blood;
the Blood Countess who bathed in youth’s final heartbeat;
the Poison Queen whose roses wilted on royal lips;
the Thorned Mother sculpting her son into a golden idol of death;
the Icon-Breaker who crushed faith beneath her boot.
They moved like vultures through court and corridor,
each step a measured echo of shattered lives.
Their eyes—cold maps of ambition—
charted the fall of poets, princes, innocents.
Their hands—delicate arbiters of suffering—
wrote edicts that carved screams into walls.
Remember: cruelty is not a garment stitched by men alone.
It blooms wherever power dreams of itself
and drinks deep from the wells of mercy’s undoing.
bishop's tossing, of laments progressings
tarnishing hardships laddling brittish peasants
americans in progrom, cowdarting songs
never the fervor, always the jelly jeans of '50 britain
Queen Kate the first of Ireland,
much a dew in tales of york
pompous rudelings of londen burried little catch
suggestions of subjects tender and cruel
pleasing offerings of characters countess and thrilled
He said, "Eye!"
She said, "I!"
She uttered, "Mayar Tee!"
He muttered, "Slightly left turn, atlas! My oh me!"
He said, "Priscilla Sucks!"
She said, "Aurelia busted the gas!"
And they both asked me,"Are you in? Did we?"
I overslept, "The last Monday, countess, is it the same.... still?"
And the housewarming kept the global sigh, "Arghhh!
Finish what he started!"
Abode of the avatars and the demigods,
I am ageless, calm and deep rooted
Indulged in the timeless meditations, I find vigor in serenity
Covered in the blanket of loam, rocks and snow
countess trees of life are sheltered on my back
The sun, the stars, the wind and the skies are all my allies
O mortal, I am just not conquerable
A couple walks into a restaurant
To eat a special Halloween dinner
At least that's what the sign out front said
A cage comes down behind them
Causing chills that runs up and down their spine
After seeing other couples sitting down
They felt better and begun to relax
A dressed-up Dracula comes to the table
And begins to take their order
He orders medium rare steaks and
She orders well done spareribs
Count and countess Dracula
Brings out the meal and sat
It on the table, given him a platter
Of grind up human remains and
Her a rack of whole human ribs
In shock, they scream and tried to
Make it to an exit, which was block
The customers then stood up, turn and
Showed their fangs, then attacked the couple
They feasted on their bodies, and waited for
The next sucker to walk through the door
Trick-or-treat
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!
I cannot believe that you are you
So many legends are told of you
The world’s first female vampire
You were so much more vicious
Bathing in the blood of virgins
And killing so many more
The men were no competition
You indeed earned you name
The Blood Countess of Hungary
Even today you are a heroine to so many
Elizabeth Bathory you will live forever
Just as you wished.
© Poem – XII/XX111/MMXXI
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
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