Her eyes glows with venom,
When she winks its death.
With a tongue coated with poison,
Her lips paralyzes like a viper's kiss.
Her angelic voice penetrates the hardest of hearts,
Generating a wave of emotion that sweeps away.
From her breast flows the lotus juice.
Her perfumed tresses intoxicates,
As her presence pacifies a man's trouble.
From the four winds sail'd men to attend her soirees.
Though she is dangerous,
Yet a night in her bowers for eternity last
She sails from coast to coast,
Seeking men to devour.
A dangerous courtesan, yet we desire her.
Within her arms lost many their fortune,
Their dreams in her lair were crushed.
A skillful Siren,
Her beauty a weapon that entraps,
Yet we cannot flee her tent.
Who can deliver us from her claws,
That enchants from afar?
Who can liberate us from her spell?
Though we wallow daily ensnared in her web,
Helplessly bewitched by her magnificent.
Yet our desires, lust, and affection on her tent we cast.
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Comments about this poem (Dangerous Beauty by Dave BenOdafe )
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
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