Catherine The Great Poem by Sheena Blackhall

Catherine the Great, it's whispered, was a tart
She had a brain, a womb, but lacked a heart
Famous for blood, betrayal, scandal, lust
Was high on etiquette, but low on trust

She had a wide forehead, alluring eyes
Greek nose, luxuriant hair, could glamourize
The court. Her second cousin who she wed
Was Peter, Tsar of Russia, a blockhead

This man child played with tin toys in his bed
Dressed Catherine as a soldier. In his head
He was a general, alienated all.
Bore no resemblance to his first born, Paul

"God knows where my wife gets her pregnancies, "
He growled, aware of her debaucheries
Of Art, she was a noted connoisseuse
Not known for living like an ascesis

Her dearest loves, her horsesn were her joys
Tone deaf, called music ‘an internal noise
She liked to copy Chinese styles of garden,
A nymphomaniac, with lovers that were legion

Her last lover, Zubrov, a parvenue
When she was sixty, he was twentytwo
Served her near the end…t'was not her horse
A rumour spread that had no truthful source

Some say she even locked up her hairdresser
To keep her wig a secret, a represser
In all but sex, at least six times a day
She bucked, to keep insomnia at bay

After a stroke, she died, Catherine the Great
In silver dress, gold crown, laid out in state
Her body laid in public for six weeks
While mourners passed, to kiss her rotting cheeks

During WWII, the Germans plundered
Her Winter Palace, in a boudoir blundered
Found sensual furniture there of awe and shock
Made hardened soldiers pause amazed to gawk

Hugh Hefner, Casanova, and Don Juan
Look on her life, ye mighty, and think on
This woman's appetites far outstripped yours
She was a banquet, you, the petits fours