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Praise be
to the Lord
who has
awaken my soul
from the death, my
life now is like a sweet
Jesus saves
Mark Toney Nov 4
My kitchen time ending, dishes drying in stacks
My family is telling me it’s time to relax
In the background are voices urging me to stay
So I pause, wait and listen for one more lovely thing
That my friends and family might say...

My kitchen is filled, with the smell of fresh pie
Made year after year, from old and new recipes
The air fills my lungs, with the smell of fresh pie
My mouth wants to eat every pie it sees

My mouth wants to eat like the child
Who experiences pie the first time in their life
My mouth wants to savor fresh aroma of pie
From the oven before cut by the knife
To boldly eat pie like the person who won't let calories get in their way
To eat, through the night, like an inmate released the next day

I go to my kitchen when I’m good and hungry
I know I will eat, like I’ve eaten before
My kitchen is blessed with the smell of fresh pie
And I’ll eat one more
12/8/2018 - Poetry form: Lyric - Inspired by "Prelude/The Sound of Music" sung by Julie Andrews and written by Oscar II Hammerstein / Richard Rodgers - Copyright © Mark Toney | Year Posted 2018
Yes, it was an incredible aroma,
I walked past a shop called, "Pizza of Roma",
In our little Oz suburbia,
I'm having pizza, not to disturb ya!
Tantalizing scent is this,
Yah, pizza, full of bliss,
Ah, aroma incredibilis!
Feedback welcome Have a laugh.
As vezes quero ser profundo e me manter por lá
Mas sou apaixonado pelo nascer e pôr do sol
E pela lua beijando o mar

As vezes quero sentar
Te ver dancar
Mas sou apaixonado pelo ritmo do teu corpo no meu
Teu calor
E aroma do teu suor

As vezes me pergunto o que será de nós se a paixão acabar?
Mas logo lembro
Que nada dura pra sempre
E enquanto existir este sentimento intenso
Quero aproveitar cada momento

Lembranças não serão levadas pelo vento
Um coração lindo como o teu nunca ficará ao relento
Pra já, faça do meu peito o seu aposento

Encosta a cabeça
Ouça cada batimento
Será eterno até acabar o nosso tempo
first I smell myself.

the deep bass tonality of my musk,
hot, creamy, sweetness unique, of coffee and creamy,
my owned sweat oiled secretions massaged into her skin
emplaced by vigorous parts rubbing and tongue caressing,
under the fading shadows of my glancing, desirous admirings

then I smell herself.

sinking sunset glimpses of last nights parfume parfait,
scattered in random strategic locations architecturally planned,
some flavors come over me like modest waves,
others spelunking found in crevices, cracks and caves,
where humans tread in guileless search of guiltless pleasure

then I smell our sharings.

lemon and thyme, paprika, sea salt and pepper,
a basted rub laid upon animal skin consuming, and consumed,
the vinaigrette balsamic and California yellow raisins, pine nuts,
decorating leaves of red soil spinach and spicy arugula,
word salads, so miraculously ingenious, you swear off eating flesh

then I smell our combinations.

the air conditioned atmosphere that blends us properly chilled,
the olive oils pressed from two colored differing skins,
the mortal and pestle finely grinding our own fresh crumbled dirt,
appearing in places where dirt is wet panko crumbs encrusting us,
our combined liquidity, shaken and stirred, drying in martini tandem

it is 8:17am and this recipe of reciprocity,
at its most pungent peaking,
for soon raining waterfalls of potable city water
and the sophistry of French soap,
the pseudoscience of modern chemical shampoo,
together erasing, scrubbing away this poems aromatherapy tapestry,
your perplexed complexing nostrils will mock you once more,
for ever disbelieving, thinking you could no longer write of
only love poetry that crested high above the trite

Friday, March 29 2019
Aroma olp musk balsamic paprika sea salt ***** martini olp
Gods1son Apr 9
There is something
about good food that is magical
The magnetic force of its aroma
gets your nose hooked even from afar,
gets your mind picturing its appearance
And when you have it before your eyes,
The mouth is all watered up like
soil after a heavy downpour of rain.
The teeth are warming up to squeeze
the juice out of the food
The taste buds are leaping for joy,
Ready to savour the taste
The muscles in the throat are roaring in anticipation for the food to go through like
a train going through a tunnel
The stomach is ready and eager to be filled
How magical good food is!
You know what I mean!
Amidst the sorrow of wilting petals,
Your spreading aroma
Make my heart feel better.
And, says everything will be alright
With the smile.
Marcelina Mar 17
She damaged them all
They were nothing, but
mere pack of cards.
Crashed in the game of
poker hearts.  Once had
a heart not it's
long gone. Destroyed in
a game similar
to hers.  She had learned
from the finest of
her destructive kind.
She fought and lost it
all.  Now she´s gone
mad, with her strangling
sweet red and white rose
aroma, merciless
beauty with clothing
made of dignity silk.
Sins she´s paid fo like
all the others will pay
for theirs. With their hearts in
her claws, in her jars as
they once done with hers
because she is the queen
of all their aching, defeated hearts.
cat Mar 13
isolation and aroma
our tent was crowded and friendly
fires in the early morning
that never seemed to give out
phone died a week ago
and for once i am living
i jumped a cliff and got lost in the forest below it
i was bruised and cold but the music was loud
and their dancing brought me home
drunk singing and emphatic fiddling
i saw what the spirit meant
mine is still there
i haven't felt in a while
Quinlyn Feb 10
You never forget the aroma
Of your true love
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