Long Femme Poems
Long Femme Poems. Below are the most popular long Femme by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Femme poems by poem length and keyword.
She is a vixen, a siren, a flobbergooser, a tramp.
Because she wears a dress? I asked, confused.
Because she wears a red dress.
There are answering murmurs.
I am working on the Alzheimer’s unit
This is the first thing these three women have agreed on.
Don’t look at her! Don’t speak to her! Don’t…..
“HI!” Doris says as the flobbergooser approaches our table.
Her dress is gorgeous – red with tiny pink and yellow birds.
She has the best smile, and she returns the “hi”.
They decide to include her; she sits at the fourth chair.
I hear them oohing and ahhing about her dress.
So is she a vixen? A siren? A tramp? A flobbergooser?
I smile as I fix them hot fudge sundaes.
“You are a femme fatale!” One yells out.
The others nod.
The red-dressed woman smiles.
“At least I’m not a flobbergooser!” She yells.
They laugh until they fall into their hot fudge sundaes.
Best place ever to work.
Cataclysmic Lovers Spirit,
Love, lover, you arrive and tame the wild spirit inside,
Set the pace, it slows to a walk to observe and feel and look and notice,
Drops of dew on a rose petal,
Pink sunsets sets, high above in a sun punched sky over a shorn green David Hockney lawn,
Cool glasses of clear perfect water quench a thirst,
And mammoth plates glass windows reflect our youthful smiles,
And our wild spirits slow to love, a simmering boil
They unfold graciously, kindly, admiringly,
And time remakes space,
Entropy changes landscapes, city-scapes, and topography
And you and me,
And the spirit’s restless,
The spirit sets a marathon at sprinters pace,
Seeking solidarity in the wilderness as the rain sets in,
Lichen covered blackened, branches and brackish water slake you now,
You arduously seek thunderous storms in stretches of cold cruel terrain,
And your spirit tumbles in long dark stretches of formidable mother Nature,
once you crashed into me, like thunder, once you pulled away from the wreckage
Stretching your spirit like a Giacometti bronze,
A spirit as Forlorn as Femme aux Bras Croisés
bereft of Joy
simple joy such as dew on a rose petal.
Starring Miss Clara Bow
Here's a tidbit you may not know
About the silent screen siren Miss Clara Bow:
All her films were a hit,
What she had was called "It",
And the '20s were lit with Miss Bow in the show.
Then There Was Theda
The vamp Theda Bara was quite a gal
On the screen in her roles as a "femme fatale".
She wore costumes revealing
That were often scene-stealing
But were still quite appealing to male co-stars, et al.
Naughty Nita Naldi
Silent screen star Nita Naldi was an Irish dolly
Who began her career in the Ziegfeld Follies.
She was pursued in films by paramours,
Such as R. Valentino and J. Barrymore,
And finally "talked" on TV in the '50s, by golly.
"Watch out for these two! A disastrous inferno" - quote by poet.
Talk about the definition of trouble!
Two people tainted with potent toxicity.
As if either of the two isn't bad enough.
Such up-to-no-good partners in crime
Walking down a crooked primrose path.
Keep a sizeable distance from them!
They're a fire and gasoline twosome;
An oil and water combination, no doubt.
Think of a Bonnie and Clyde dynamic.
Think a film noir femme-fatale...
And a malleable, meek private eye.
Oh, the twisted mind games they play;
It's a constant game of one-upmanship
And manipulation against one another.
Did I mention they rob and kill, too?
This is the saga of Veronica Vole
Who committed the perfect crime.
She murdered three lovers,
But not all at once,
She did 'em in one at a time.
The first was a lemur,
A two-timing schemer,
Who seduced all thirteen of her nieces.
Every female enticed him,
So she sliced him and diced him,
Then stir-fried and ate all the pieces.
The second, a lobster,
Was also a mobster
Who threatened her once with a putter.
So she got him alone,
Then boiled him well done,
And had him for lunch with drawn butter.
The third was a vulture,
Devoid of all culture,
Whose name, she remembers, was Vince.
He was planning to eat her
After he bet her,
So she tased him in self-defense.
In a big pot she tucked him,
Then scalded and plucked him
And served him "en casserole"
To her fourth beau, a critter,
Who'll make a good fritter,
She thinks as she spoons out his food.
'cause though she doesn't tend
To have good taste in men,
She does tend to like men who taste good.
Ms. Vole is not a siren or a femme fatale,
The kind of dame who'd tell a guy to take a hike.
At heart she is simply a sweet-natured gal
Who never met a man she didn't like.
Woman, woman, oh sweet woman
My love, my crib, my token
In my daily diary
Every day is your journey
You are my soul, my pillar
I cherish you everyday
And I love you, my flower.
Woman, my darling, my beauty
You amaze me all day long
You occupy the core, the center of my life
You are my princess, my queen
You are my dear friend, my longing wish
Woman, woman, oh sweet woman
My oxygen tank, my miraculous lady.
Woman, you are the heart of my soul
The star of my life and the moon of my heaven
You are the stunning woman, the perfect doll
The one who sweeps, pushes and rows at home
Wow! Wow! You are my velvet cushion
Woman, woman, oh tender woman
You are the sun which illumines my palm.
Woman, to me you are fundamental
My angel, my saint, you are delightful
Life has no meaning without you
You are my darling, my hope, my beacon
You are my heart, my dream, my soul
Woman, woman, oh mysterious woman!
P.S. Translation of ' Heureuse Journée De La Femme'
By Hébert Logerie
Copyright © March 2019, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several books of poetry.
6 years ago, I wrote limericks about 5 PS poets. Today, I've posted
about another 5 and will continue to add more... before 6 years.
I tickled funny bones of five Souper men
So, I gave thought to trying it once again
In the order they replied
My sarcasm was applied
As I gently heckled them with ink and pen
First, Tom Cunningham, who "liked my collection"
To femme limericks he had no objection
But now it's his turn
Tom, forgive the burn
I heard you're headed for a house of correction
Jerry T Curtis said to "keep them coming"
But I think that lately he's been slumming
He's all aflutter
And starts to stutter
When his lady friend starts his heart strumming
Then there is the poet of romance, Tim Smith
His sweet words of seduction are not a myth
I know it to be truth
Don't ask me. It's uncouth
I don't kiss and tell so I'm pleading the fifth
John Gondolf said my limericks made him "chuckle"
His comments are always filled with honeysuckle
But if he wants a date
I'll have to castigate
I have a black belt in the use of my knuckles
"I needed smiles and giggles," said Greg Barden
His poems are flowers blooming in a garden
But some words are couture
Fertilized with manure
Now I guess I'll have to beg for Greg's pardon
The new additions...
Like a brother he comes to my defense
This man wears no guise and has no pretense
Mark Koplin, misunderstood
A modern-day Robin Hood
To me he shines with rays of effulgence
There's a man who took me under his wing
Says what he thinks. Doesn't hold back a thing
Danny Turner, my friend
A helping hand he'll lend
For offering kind words, he's a wellspring
David Kavanagh, true friend from the start
Encouraging advice, he does impart
Throws Monoku lines like spears
I raise a glass to him ~ cheers!
Loyal, his word. A man with a good heart
Canadian, Vaso, we don't see oft
Art doesn't come across as being soft
But has a tender heart
For countries torn apart
His poetic words should never be scoffed
His funny thoughts overflow in a Flood
Terry writes humor that's never a dud
Risque, and sometimes not
His stories have a plot
Rumor has it that he's known as 'The Stud'
Gentlemen, I ask forgiveness for this spoof
My humorous parodies should be the proof
That I like all of you
And don't mind if ya do
Get even in your own limericks of reproof
Plant a thought
Mixed up Human, Chemical imbalance.
Build a tree or plant a Zen romance.
Tip the scales and put it back in your hands.
Roll a paper, then just sit back and relax.
Something bubbles in the undergrowth.
Pledge alliance, swear an oath.
Light a wish and watch it burn in a flash.
Imagine something along the lines of abracadabra!
Make a thought and bury your head in the sand.
Give future generations a cryptic master plan.
Plant a bomb of inspiration in their mind.
Find your way past, all their conscience mines.
Let it simmer, until the time is right.
Then play a muse, locked in a pantomime.
Cause the room to be engulfed in flames,
Of your true passion for a better way.
Burn the ambitions, of the jealous babes in wolves clothing;
For they will turn each pure thought, into acid rain.
They offer salvation and bring an early grave.
The Femme Fatale; The Idol,
Is the only one who can bring peace to our world today.
Memories, memorial.
They still cause us so much trouble.
But with a dose of electric love,
These balls of nerves could turn out to be good.
But no, I’m wrong.
Because my destiny is in the hands of a rebel punk!
Of drink and drugs!
Who has no hope of ever finding love.
But Vlad’s Dragon Tooth,
Has been released from my spine.
I can walk out of the darkness
And give thanks to the sun shine.
Given up for ghost, the tears became premature;
Until I ran out of the darkness to greet you my saviour.
As I embrace you, I crumble to dust;
One night after one bite,
My life’s breath has breathed its last.
(C)2011 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Form:
Watch out!
She plays the seduction game
too well, my friend.
Be careful now!
Just the flick of her eyelid
hypnotizes
benighted meek men.
Her come-hither wink,
enough to reel in
fishes big and small.
Tread with caution!
Don't fall for her charms.
She's a dangerous spider
luring unsuspecting prey
into her sticky, intricate web
with an enticing bait.
Beware!
She's led legions of men
to utter destruction
like a film noir femme fatale.
Now she's trying
to add me
to her sizeable collection of fools;
casting in her fishing reel,
waiting for me
to rise to the bait,
but little does she know,
I'm neither fish nor fool.
I stay out of the water,
because I can't swim!
Woman, woman, oh sweet woman
My love, my crib, my token
In my daily diary
Every day is your journey
You are my soul, my pillar
I cherish you everyday
And I love you, my flower.
Woman, my darling, my beauty
You amaze me all day long
You occupy the core, the center of my life
You are my princess, my queen
You are my dear friend, my longing wish
Woman, woman, oh sweet woman
My oxygen, my miraculous lady.
Woman, you are the heart of my soul
The star of my life and the moon of my heaven
You are the stunning woman, the perfect doll
The one who sweeps, pushes and rows at home
Wow! Wow! You are my velvet cushion
Woman, woman, oh tender woman
You are the sun which illumines my palm.
Woman, to me you are fundamental
My angel, my saint, you are delightful
Life has no meaning without you
You are my darling, my hope, my beacon
You are my heart, my dream, my soul
Woman, woman, oh mysterious woman!
Translation of ' Heureuse Journée De La Femme'
By Hébert Logerie
Copyright © March 2019, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several books of poetry.