Poetry of a Virgin

Discussion in 'THREAD ARCHIVES' started by Arlathina, Jan 6, 2015.

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  1. "I am straddling the line between elegance and frenzy."

    Tick Tock...
    by Isaac James Flores

    As my grandmother entered
    old age,
    she developed dementia.
    Doctors said it was brought on
    by cholesterol build-up
    in her brain.

    She lost interest,
    as many dementia patients do,
    in nearly everything.
    She would sit, doe-eyed and complacent,

    asking me for the fifth time to
    what was on the news or
    reminding me for the fourth time to
    feed the cats.

    Her skin was pallor,
    almost translucent.
    She was made of glass, delicate and pumped full of toxins
    like the cigarettes
    that she smoked;
    only a third of the way before crumpling
    and throwing them into the yard.
    Minutes later, she would spark up another
    and try again.

    One sweltering afternoon,
    I came home and asked her what she was doing.
    After a second, she replied, "Waitin' to die."
    To most, it would seem cynical,
    but I thought my
    grandmother made
    tons of sense.

    A few months later
    her wait ended.
    And now, I stare at the crippled cigarettes
    in the yard,
    stark against the yellowed grass.
    I stand by as the cats go hungry,
    bloody claws ripping at one another
    for a single scrap.
    For the first time,
    I sit and wonder what to do
    to pass the time.

    Planes of Silence
    by Isaac James Flores
    My heavenly bodies no longer speak.
    The stars have stopped their whispers.
    I am left with the weak—yet incessant—beat
    of my fractured heart.

    I no longer speak to the wind,
    nor share secrets with the trees.
    How sad it is when their leaves
    speak words that can be learned with ease.

    I don’t know what changed,
    humans rarely do.
    I am crying again,
    but I can’t say for what, for who.

    Maybe, for everyone
    that I have ever known.
    For now-silent planes, stars, leaves—
    all that once was home.

    Drunk and depressed,
    bathed in something else.
    We try to care, to heal, to help—
    couldn’t cure ourselves.

    mine or theirs,
    are worthless
    no one really cares.

    by Isaac James Flores

    I remember,
    searching amid the greenery
    for the bright yellow petals
    of the flowers
    with the soured stem.

    I remember,
    our faces puckered
    and we all laughed
    under the happy, blue sky,
    knitting together
    wreaths and bracelets
    of dandelions.

    the sky isn’t
    and those stems aren’t
    Maybe it’s because,
    we are.

    A Fine Fragrance
    by Isaac James Flores

    He wore a cologne
    of shameless lies,
    false promises,
    and I inhaled deeply of it.

    I used to love the way
    my bed would smell
    when I knew he
    had lain there.

    Even my own clothes reeked
    of the intoxicating miasma,
    flashback to a scene of me picking
    my old shirts out of the laundry

    just to take one more breath.

    Thanks for reading. It means a lot to me. Feel free to tell me what you think.​
    #1 Arlathina, Jan 6, 2015
    Last edited: Jan 16, 2015
    • Love Love x 2
  2. Your poetry is beautiful and deserves praise. o__o I apologize that I didn't sooner.

    A Fine Fragrance really moved me. I could feel the emotion in all of them, really, but this one really got to me. I treasure scents and fragrances of those who are closest to me, so maybe that's why. <3

    Also, I'll hold you to that offer to give me help at some time. ;P Always open to new ideas. And I'll surely get a hold of you for any projects I may want a volunteer for.
    • Thank Thank x 1
  3. Thank you! There is no need for apology here. You have no idea how much I appreciate your kind words, really. :) A Fine Fragrance was actually something I drafted up a few days ago while thinking about my first boyfriend. I am glad that you were able to get something out of it.

    As I have said, I would love to help you out anytime!
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