The Covent

They met, faced each other,
Fierce beauties of one mother.
Lavish features, rich lashes
Nine women of Vanity’s crushes.

The first, was tall, stepped pride
Her eyes were green, her hips wide,
Her body’s fiber all too strong
With chestnut hair, waist long…

The second had a childish gaze
played with men in callow ways
her eyes spoke of aiming mischief
lovingly crucifying any belief.

The third was old and oh so tired,
Yet she…she was one they all admired;
She’d seen it all and had survived
Aged couth, able glamor had thrived.

The next woman didn’t know much
Rudeness, penurious mind, if such
She’d abuse men without manly wit
She’d take them apart, bit by bit!

Fith was loving and bemused,
Absent minded and unused…
She’d take fouth’s men to heal
she would find one that’s ideal.

The feeble girl with brownish eyes
Was so afraid of their goodbyes
She dreamed to be forever here
Among her sisters to appear

Seven was ingrate, she loathed…
other humans, the way they clothed
..ignorance’s cloak of deceit
Her thoughts were not discreet.

The next, seduced them all
Pretty, resembling a doll,
She had no limits for she was loose
Not one of them she would refuse.

The ninth one had not a face
but thousands would embrace…
Being whomever she desired;
All she’s wanted, she’s acquired.


Does my freedom offend your pride?
You need me gone, want me denied

The sickest mind just speaks the facts
Avoid the ones speaking abstracts
For they be locked within themselves
Free rein makes them so very mad
It’s why the covent can be bad.


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