Femme Fatale Poems - Poems about Femme Fatale

I wore my sins like velvet lace, Then set your garden all ablaze. I never once said I was kind-- I only promised not to mind. The chandelier you loved? It fell. I laughed and called it “doing well.” Your rules were quaint, but far too tight-- I loosened them with fire and bite. Abandon all grace here, my dear-- The wine is sharp,...

Continue reading...

His mind was made up Opinion unchangeable Irreversibly fixed Until he met a femme fatale With wily tricks He came around as easy as fiddle sticks...

Continue reading...

The trumpet cries beneath the neon glow, a golden wail that haunts the hollow night. The bass line walks where lonely spirits go, its heartbeat steady, low and laced with bite. Her voice is velvet, dipped in smoke and sin, a lullaby for hearts too torn to mend. She sings of love, of loss, of what has been, each note a ghost...

Continue reading...

she enters with a sly smile red lips curling like the edge of a blade she is the kind of woman you can't refuse even as you sense she will undo you her words weave like smoke soft and shifting they draw you close until you lose sight of the snare her face changes like the tide one moment familiar the next a stranger you...

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 notice. . . Songs for this: HEATED by Beyoncé Hysterical Us by Magdalena Bay ...

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 he sleeps A woman stands beside the low divan Offhand, I'd guess...

Continue reading...

The phone's ringin', gettin' louder and louder, As it gets closer to her ear. She rolls over, tryna clear the haze, And sees a name she ain't too clear. "Femme Fatale," it says, and she's confused, Wondering who this person could be. A text comes through from the same unknown, Saying "agoraphobiac" in a message with a pic of her, but she...

Continue reading...

Agony of a broken heart When will it ever mend? Arrow shot a deadly dart Blindsided I did not defend. Betrayal was unexpected Wonder, did I do wrong? Sadly, he became infected To female singing siren song. Some broken hearts never mend Poetry Contest Sponsored by Faraz Ajmal 25/02/2022...

Continue reading...

In my bejeweled night sky gleaming seamless, you glitter like the glowing full moon, I soar in stardust on the wings of yearning to get suffused with your sapphire hue. In the rhythmic rhapsody of enticing wind, the feathers of my fervent longing flutter enthralled by the moonbeam of passion within your halcyon halo mesmeric. You make within my heart’s firmament a turquoise...

Continue reading...

A black widow spider spins a silk thread into a near-transparent dream catcher; filling her with joy and her meals with dread. A very cunning, deadly flycatcher ready to pounce and mummify her food; she lies in wait like a body snatcher. Any damaged web gets quickly renewed with her sticky silk, resetting her trap; so struggling insects remain firmly glued. She secures victims...

Continue reading...

I found my soul a mile away from where I left it last, it lay in shreds on a bed of thorns to where it had been cast. And no amount of golden thread could fashion it back together, so, soul-less I must wander now these barren lands forever. Along with it you took my heart and cast this...

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 path of a woman's life But my tears will not again Damp...

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...

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 be molded into someone more useful but easily discarded. Each...

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 carried their own derringers now. More dangerous than ten years...

Continue reading...