A Poem by Irma Chavez

Standing fragile reaching up,

Past the struggle against air,

Flowing motion like soft water,

Drizzle light, dark soil to expand.

In fields of memories,

Of fear related to the sex,

Of craving meat from human flesh.

One seeks to find elation,

Within the scope of weak temptation,

The type that I can roughly handle,

For my sole advantageous pleasure.

Never be repeated wooden secret!

But my weak wishes grow wicked eyes,

That reach past night into that field,

Where dandelions reach.

Supple fibers line the bones,

Taught, soft skin,

Glide along the surface of my lips.

Kissing morning with the sun,

So I may fly out the window of the universe.

Stubborn breasts find loneliness,

Better suited to cups of coffee and noire tales.

Pardoned beauties’ last delight,

To watch the dandelions’ blackened smiles.

For the warning was ignored,

When blown to scatter round in freedom,

Instead held tightly to the hand

Of the impostors’ crafted mess.

© 2013 Irma Chavez

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Ahh this is wonderful!
I like the mixture of the dirtiness to the fragility that is usually associated with flowers, most especially dandelions.
A wonderful read.

Posted 5 Years Ago

Irma Chavez

5 Years Ago

which would fit the poem better?
Irma Chavez

5 Years Ago

i asked you and immediately saw what I needed to see. I feel the narrator is seeking elation.... do .. read more
Anne Bathory

5 Years Ago

I think elation is a much better fit,
It took me a moment to understand the meaning for rElati.. read more

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1 Review
Added on June 19, 2013
Last Updated on July 7, 2013