Femme Fatale Poem by Linda Ori

Femme Fatale

Rating: 4.6


She always had a way with men,
Could win them to her side,
She had them eating from her hand
Although she never tried;

She wasn't such a beauty,
No special spell she cast,
Yet still they sought her company
Each falling hard and fast;

She was just the girl next door -
Petite and cute and bright,
No flaming pageant beauty
Yet around her shown a light

That held a strange attraction -
No one could ever blame
Those unsuspecting victims
Like moths drawn to her flame;

But that was many years ago
When youth was in its prime,
No one has made the effort since
To occupy her time,

Yet fervent hope still burns there
Down deep within her soul,
Although the heart that blazed with fire
Now smolders black as coal;

The flame has lost its radiance,
The light has lost its glow,
The femme fatale has disappeared
Where passions never flow;

She sits alone and daydreams
Lost somewhere in her past,
Caught up in wistful memories
Of loves she thought would last;

So sad she still remembers
Those loves of long ago,
But ask her who she is today..........
In truth, she doesn't know.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM

wow................ like moths.. ive been a moth... lovely poem milady.

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Frank James Ryan Jr...fjr 26 August 2009

Midnight, i have said this before & i will say it again...Youe sixth-sense for syllabic metre is virtually flawless....Somber piece, that quite astutely depicts how aestheticals are not everything...as you depict the woman in your poem as quite average, yet her social success quite extraordinary.....Confidence & the air about oneself, seems to play into this piece....One never loses that unless they decide to give up on themselves.....and that is almost as sad as any personal loss in life. Excellent piece, Blondie! BTW: What was the name of the hospitsl that conducted conductors....And does the name Ratchett ring any bells, or spark any thoughts? L O L! R. P. Murphy MD/ P.D.O.C. 1 Flewover Circle Cuckoo's Nest, Michigan

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Daniel Kempson 26 August 2009

A little tweak of the candle glow and the moths will line up in a row, love never leaves only sleeps, tomorrows will always be there, great write Linda 10 Daniel

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Tango 26 August 2009

Wow, this is an excellent poem, has a very nice flow, and a good story. Tango.

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Vaibhav Pandey 26 August 2009

this is again a brilliantly written poem ma'm......very rhythmic....10

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Adeline Foster 05 September 2010

Lovely, interesting Poem Linda. Can so relate, been there, lived that, yet how one does see oneself in one's own eyes? We never really grow old to our selves. Great poem. Adeline

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Indira Babbellapati 22 October 2009

this reminds me of a maxim from my mother tongue. when roughly translated it's : even a donkey at its prime of youth is attractive. it's a wonderful poem that can humble feminine vanity...it's the age that's attractive!

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Sitting on the fence and enjoying this beautiful work; with equine-like majesty and a mane of thought with a gurgling flow … I wish I could tell the gait, trot amble and canter like Frank and indulge completely. However poem makes an apposite use of this soi-disant femme fatale to actually bring to fore your prowess in writing a well-metered poem

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Shashendra Amalshan 07 September 2009

This is excellent indeed.. Hey nice narrative... I mean famme fatals! ! ! many has written about them.. this is good.. yeah Nice composition.. I have to study, meter and rhymes a bit too, if I am to become a good poet. But I like free verse... this is good.. hey Stephen Stirk.. he is a jolly man....he gave you a 11.64! ! ! ! lolsss.. I can give you more, but they only allow us to give 10 na.. very nice.. with lots of love shan

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Stephen Stirk 04 September 2009

Oh how this flows like a melody all the way through. Such perfect balance rhyme and rythmn and meter and not a word out of place. I loved this one for its telling and sad story. Age gets us all in the end. I remember when I was remarkably handsome and surrounded by beautiful women. I think at that point I woke up. I find that readers tend to personalise a poem, when the writer is frequently not talking about themself. Lovely poem worthy of the awesome regard which I hold for your work.11.64 out of 10.

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