The Vamp
Cunning were her noxious machinations,
Choosing those who never stood a chance.
Masterful projecting of temptations,
Brilliant timing, her alluring glance.
Naive innocence alerted weakness.
Perfect prey, a rug beneath her feet.
Wary of her charm, he played to meekness.
Vamps are blinded by their own conceit.
Love projecting trust her highest rated,
Self assured to win this rueful game,
But his insight unappreciated,
Destined to dethrone this queen of shame.
Midnight luggage packed as she lay sleeping,
Daybreak finding him no longer there.
Not his absence roused her ardent weeping,
Rather, roles reversed and woe to bear.
All her hidden plans, new beau, new city,
Lost its "joie de vivre" without a chump.
Debit card replaced by selfish pity,
Catatonic stupor, being dumped.
She was fooled, assured the man had fallen.
Not a clue his quietly keeping score.
Retribution silently came calling,
As a sliding key beneath her door.
Gene Bourne
02-19-14.
Alternating Acateletic / Cateletic end syllables
for variable texture of flow
in this Trochaic Pentameter poem.
Copyright © Gene Bourne | Year Posted 2014
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