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Poetry Magnum Opus

Fighting Femme Fetale


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Pretty and tough,

Petite and posing,

Ready for fighting!


sporting slanted eyes

And sallow skin,

And hair dark

Like the night sky,

knee-high boots

for her footwear,

A simple sleeveless


She wore also.

A real beauty,

A perfect fit

For a wrestlerette.


However, however,

She’s not just

Any wrestlerette!

No, for behold:

Her long, thin staff,

Simple and wieldy!


Indeed, for a girl

So young and petite!


Yet be not

 fooled by her charm,

Nor her size,

Nor her skills with

A quarterstaff,

For she has one more

Weapon-a weapon

that extends from

her very own body!


A scorpion’s stinger;

That is right-

A scorpion’s stinger,

Extending from her butt

And arching over

Her head, ready

To deliver severe

Agony to her foes;

Whether young

Or old, or males

Or females-whoever!


That stinger she can

Disguise as a necklace,

Concealing it from her

Unwary foes until

The time to strike

Is right, then she strikes-

Like she did

so many others

Who have fought her,

To their surprise

And to their demise!


Yet while they’re writhing

In grievous suffering,

She speaks, softly,

With an eastern accent,

Invoking the name

Of ‘Mother Serket’,

Which is the last

Thing her opponents hear.


Tis the picture

I have drawn

Of a femme fatale

a teenage boy

described to me

Before he expired.



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