...Her complexity still lures suitors;
She goes through men like cigarettes
Savoring each puff
until her personality has burned them up
As if she was the Sun itself, and they,
like Icarus, got too close.
When she's done with them she smashes them
Along with their paper-mache self-images
Into an ashtray with a single destructive finger
Or flicks them onto the ground
...Or even shorts them,
and sets them aside somewhere
To finish later...
Always with the cool,
predatory, and mysterious
calm composure of
A real Lioness...
Hi Ray, do not like cigarettes but certainly LIKE your poem. Very clever. Curious if this is written with someone in mind.Thank You
Hey Ray, they all say they don't inhale, but you and I know better: P Love this piece, and hold my breath in readiness for your next offering x
Very nice... it's not good to smoke... and worse to get smoked...
this is amazing! really well thought out, love the simerlies!
Good stuff, but smoking seriously damages your health! ! ! ! I shall read some more of your work.
Fine poem, Ray. You told me once women were the only thing worth writing about. But don't ya love em?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I'm with Lyn! Great poem! Friends with a maneater are you? : -)