Best Femme Fatale Poems

You clipped my wings
You cured my flirt
You blinded my sight
From bevy of beauties.

I'm a toy in your palm
Administered unto your wish
And, like powerful Samson
I'm doomed!

Love,
Sweet bait
Covering a naked hook
The cemetary of my life....

Continue reading...

They may call me some kind of psycho,
The thing is they are so right though....

Continue reading...

“Beloved Femme Fatale”


Musk and Neroli satin skin spoons
Naked feet ‘neath The Pillars of Petra
She towers majestic above you, colours your grey skies
You are worshipping her on your knees
What does it matter, anymore? Before your eyes, the story unfolds . . .

Such supplication suits the silence...

Continue reading...

Femme Fatale By A Wishing Well 
  (In The Wastelands Of War)

Warm as breath on placid skin,
Soft as gentle summer rains,
Loud as natures angry clouds
That gather in ambushed lanes,
To confer with the wounded boys
Whose blood on artillery stains,
Etched with the faded epitaphs
Tattooed on her...

Continue reading...

I left, and crept to my room
And slept
I Wept
And Kept you in the haven of my soul like a pet.
Femme fatale
I will tell your tale
Till you sell me your soul.
You are so beautiful
So wicked
So charming.

Fickle you!
I adore your momentarily sweetness
And each and every slap on...

Continue reading...

She enters the room, sipping blood red wine,
             Work of art, all competition fades, outshined,
            Well spoken yet vulnerable, designed to attract,
...

Continue reading...

Refined dame with polished frame
Strewing rose petals from lofty pedestal
Sparkling eyes from which stardust flies
Bright smile spindling on embroidered dial
Pallid face shrouded with humble grace
High cheek bones with sculptor's chisel honed
Coiffed strands of hair so De Rigueur
Elegant neck sharing femininity with regal dignity
Voluptuous bosom with...

Continue reading...

Perfection,

As your femme fatale walks into existence.
With eyes like that, there is no resistance,
No steering away or meeting halfway,
Her coloured eyes and deadly stare,
As you are forcefully pulled into her sinful lair.

You try to avoid the Siren song,
But deep inside, you love it,
Crave it, enslaved...

Continue reading...

I’m  Packing and She’s Packing 

I’m a film noir private eye and I’ve got my eye on this voluptuous dame. I’m investigating the murder of her rich husband and searching for clues. Because deep in my gut, her sweet demeanor made me suspicious and...

Continue reading...

Through his door she wafts, all eye candy and cigarette smoke. Feigning fear and need with a promise of earthly delights in trade. He, standing strongly alone, listens attentively but always sees more than is shown. Seemingly he melts in her warm, feminine hands, to...

Continue reading...

For her, it was a cinch to tantalize
each man who let his gaze rest on her face.
With honey-colored hair and almond eyes,
she’d catch most men’s attention anyplace!

The brightness of her smile was a facade,
which any man caught up with her would soon
discover! Oh, she was...

Continue reading...

Pulp fiction had nothing on him. He was a man’s man. A protagonist
of his own making, self-reliant, and self-assured.  Marlow kept his wisecracks
to the bare minimum when meeting a new client.  Dames were not as compliant as they used to be, and they...

Continue reading...

I leave the auction sick, my mettle frayed
A ghost, I fear, in oil clutched near my side
No doubt, a ghost for which I've dearly paid!
How best to next proceed, I must decide

The painting I have bought portrays a man
laid out upon a bed as if...

Continue reading...

[Paraphrase-translation of the song from Lady Snowblood.]

Bright dusk buried in snow
Only the sound of a baying hound
And my wooden geta break the silence
I stride with the weight of Heaven on my mind

I embrace these nights
My paper umbrella is more than it seems
I have walked this...

Continue reading...

I'm not an 'ingénue' anymore - that’s been vitiated.
I'm not innocent, pure, naive or vulnerable -
which are technically, 'ingénue' requirements
(I don’t make the rules).

That being said, if no one has an objection,
in terms of narrative trajectory, I'd like to be
considered a 'fémme fatale' until further...

Continue reading...