Countess Poems | Examples

Council Culture

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 

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 !

Masques of Tyranny

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.

ezra's rebuttal's

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

Let us make a Pizza

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!"

Alps

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

Halloween Horror Restaurant

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

Lady Godiva

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!

Elizabeth Bathory

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

Olivia Meets Cesario

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

Putting On French Airs

Yes I speak French the brazen imposter bragged.
A lie said the countess, for his speech surely lagged.

Frantic

I was lasting for long... 
Tried not to wrong.....
Made my way down the road,
And no reason to cry,
What shall meet that time?
I was such a fool,to let go!
Stood by that door,.....lifted my hand to snubbed that soul,
And no reason to even lie 
Send back that mind,
Lifted my eyes in the sky,....
Sure to see those behind me.
Breaking intentions in high grams,
Wash away dirt from that durable apparel,
Yearning more for farewell, 
How do I wait and say,"forgive me"?
Lofty my words of regret may be,
No one knows what tomorrow will set on the dinning table,
Shadows of pain,shed of rebel,
Jumped over an elephant,till several times only to a lizard.
Every word will be held sad,
Like the ass roared to the farmer,
No room for the accuser!
Host of counts and countess,
Desperate for societal powers, 
Come forth to carry me home,
Always playing in rain,
As sunshine brings happiness in lane.
Forgiveness clears a sinful pot,
Seventy seven by seven......ridicule not!

Do You Want Me

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.

Mayerling, Part 1 of 4

(At the remote Mayerling hunting lodge, 
on January 30, 1889, two young people’s 
lives were extinguished.  Crown Prince 
Rudolf, heir to the Austro-Hungarian throne, 
and his young lover, Countess Mary Vetsera, 
died in circumstances which have never been 
properly explained.)

The Tragedy of Mayerling 

In January, eighteen eighty-nine, 
disaster struck the Austrian court, and since 
that day, we've wondered how the handsome prince 
(one Rudolf) and his teenage concubine 

came both to die. A mystery which taxes 
the best of Europe's brains is long past solving. 
A story of illicit love, involving 
the need to smash down bedroom doors with axes 

will always fascinate. The girl was found 
in bed, quite dead. Prince Rudolf at her side 
was sitting in a chair. It seems he died 
of gunshot wounds. Blood - clotted, matted, browned 
- extended its congealing cataract 
down to the floor. Perhaps a suicide pact?

Reunion

“Years
have passed
since that day
under the fig
tree. Our promises
were countess. Your eyes had
shone and my voice was thick. You
stood on your toes and bit my nose,
sticking your tongue out in a challenge.
I'd accepted and pulled you so close that
it brought intoxicated clarity.
And then you were gone. Next morning a
letter waited on my table, 
your words asking forgiveness.
Life has moved on, grey hair,
mortgage, two sons. But
Subhamita,
how could I
forget
You?”



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Form: Double Etheree
Date: 08 / 11 / 2016
Contest: Unrequited Love
Sponsor:  Nayda Ivette Negron

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