Long Femme fatale Poems
Long Femme fatale Poems. Below are the most popular long Femme fatale by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Femme fatale poems by poem length and keyword.
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 in a woven wrap:
ensuring they remain alive and fresh
until she sups: draining them of their sap.
Liquefying bugs, entangled in mesh:
she flaunts a scarlet hourglass belly patch
and fangs that inject poison into flesh.
Males must escape as soon as they detach,
for to this femme fatale, they're a fair catch.
“Concentration is the
very essence of poetry.”
—Amy Lowell
deadly deception
femme fatale flourished—
dynasties downfall!
~~~~~~~~~~~***~~~~~~~~~~
© Joseph, October 19, 2008
© All Rights Reserved
~~~~~~~~~~~***~~~~~~~~~~
Joseph S. Spence, Sr., is the author of "The Awakened One Poetics" (2009), which is
published in seven different languages. He invented the Epulaeryu poetry form, which
focuses on succulent cuisines and drinks. He is published in various forums, including the
World Haiku Association; Poetinis Druskininku, Milwaukee Area College, Phoenix Magazine;
Möbius Poetry, and Taj Mahal Review to name a few. Joseph is a Goodwill Ambassador for
the state of Arkansas, USA, a college faculty, and a military veteran.
~~~~~~~~~~~***~~~~~~~~~~~
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 that lingers to the end.
The whiskey sways inside a heavy glass,
the shadows dance like lovers, slow and worn.
Outside, the city hums—a world so vast,
yet every soul inside that room feels torn.
The music fades, but echoes never die—
a broken heart still sings beneath the sky.
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 never know who she will be
but she is always dangerous
her eyes move like shadows
slicing through the room
seeking her next prize
she takes what she wants
and she always wins
they whisper that she has killed
more than once maybe more than most
yet something in her holds you still
her beauty or her danger
or both
as she fades into the night
i feel her pull lingering on my skin
am i her next
would it matter if i were
because i cannot look away
from the woman who walks like a secret
MOTHER OF MOUNTAINS
Oh mountain mother if I may,
put forth my praise of thee,
of noble strength, steadfast and true,
Your full beauty none can see.
Violently birthed by mother earth,
jutting up through the dirt and trees.
Stretching toward the sun and stars,
catching clouds upon the breeze.
Dinosaurs walked in the shadow
of your majestic purple face,
adorned with gleaming snow white locks,
foothills flow from your embrace.
Glacial ice cuting slowly deep,
it's lines expose your age.
Your regal peak, stern and steep,
like a brash old mother sage.
A universal femme fatale,
invoking art and reverie.
You can not be moved or conquered
nor captured by mere poetry.
Grand words praise your nobility,
songs strive your peaks to soar,
by mortal tongue, no justice done,
as your truth transcends all lore.
Some of the sexiest women are Vargas’s 1940 pinup girls,
They are drawn with long hair, sensuous legs, and the right kind of curls.
Enhanced in all the right places, there is nothing that exudes sex faster
Graphic drawings of cattish women are not the kind you put out to pasture.
Do you remember Cat-Woman drawn fearlessly by our old friend Stan Lee?
Hallee Berry brought her to life, but the one who graphically created her was he.
Betty Boop, a cartoon femme fatale’ had style, and sex that could make a sailor blush,
Disney’s artists’ did not draw a Tinker Bell without perky boobs and a little tush.
I believe graphic novels and cartoon classics are here today to stay,
Because the sexy superheroes – both men and women make the reader’s day.
Captain America and Batman have those enormous abs, and a teeny waist.
Jessica Rabbit’s ‘I’m not bad, I’m just drawn that way,” was not penned with any haste.
Written 11-18-2018 Contest: Sexy Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Lewis Raynes
Paris idol,
Count of Monte Cristo square,
An angle,
Some graffiti red and purple,
At the last moment I paint:
Phantoms of vampires,
Sarcophagus in pyramid glass,
Portraits in the Louvre castle,
Milady dame,
I'm no longer a donor for this alien dragon,
Abel's blood cries,
This cry goes to the sky,
Two angels,
Lot's house,
Rue du Bac,
Chapel of the Miraculous Medal,
The night,
Notre-Dame in flames,
Fire has the form of the cathedral,
Above this country hexagonal,
Mont Saint Michel like a continent in contrast,
Yellow before blue light, cyan,
Here I'm condemned in orange,
"If they do it when the wood is green, what will happen when it's dry?!",
"Weep for yourselves and for your child",
The natural rainbow appears just now,
To require the blood from beast Cain,
That city full of formal and informal crimes,
Stones of Herod's Temple,
I build my Defense
By the Lamb and Lion,
Like precursor and forerunner Ivanhoe knight,
Too - the count by Mother Immaculate,
Lofty line of Bethlehem star,
On signature of Jonas' sign,
They disregard in vain,
In malignant blindness,
Even she, Lot's wife —
Open eyes shut —
Look at the sanhedrin of Caiaphas,
cardinal maniac Illuminati over time,
Death cap, warning,
A destroying angel over this town,
Amanita all in glossy pale,
Grow worse toward nuclear weapon,
Never to taste,
Chain reaction inside,
Dark hole, femme fatale eats all dwarfs,
Equals in bad,
Like Napoleon Bonaparte at the battle of Berezina,
Bullying fate in dance macabre,
Olympic gold medal for Salome and Herodias,
The gymnast from the exterior courtyard,
Without oil and vine,
In vain asking water from this market named "The Ladies' Delight",
Say my lighthouse on this very toxic planet, going to collapse,
Jean Valjean on Champ de Mars,
In my hand some flagrant clouds,
In flight.
An eerie calm has been encroaching
as dawn's pale light approaches the realm
of what is usually a normal morning
but no songbirds are softly trilling today
They've all taken shelter from the storm
the one that rumbles ever nearer... she comes
One of nature's evil forces is on her way
a strengthening femme fatale I fear
has set her course due north
Her compass arrow pointed right at me
She churns Gulf waters and raises tides
gulping it down as if it were an elixir
from which her hurricane winds swirl
She comes to inflict harm and pillage
among coastal villages and cities
Not a drop of rain has fallen, but she comes.
No traffic can be heard, not a single word
from children waiting for a school bus.
It's declared a stay home from work day
Francine will rule our southern coast
boasting as her pressure drops
and nothing can stop her chosen path
Her wrath will be done... she comes
this evening, she comes for us
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!