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Jo Barber Jun 2018
Home is Homer.
Lovely summer aromas
of fish and salt;
visions of eagles and otters;
people who create and re-create,
forever giving more than they receive.
A city of art and style -
you'll go the extra mile
to stay in happy, hearty Homer.
Poetic T Feb 2018
Breathless fragrances,
              aromas fading
beyond there time running out.

                             But we will always
expel the vapours of our emotions.
        And others will exhale upon our fading.

Just because you cant taste every
                   sentiment that's breathed,
       were all moving away, just moments fading.
Amitav Radiance May 2015
I welcome the breeze
From the distant land
Brings fresh happiness
Lifts the veil of doubt
Reveals the inner beauty
Many rich aromas unknown
Intoxicates the senses
Travels through unknown corridors
Not even the corners spared
Soul breezes along with pleasure
Some unknown music notes
Hits the heart with marvelous grace
Intermingling of two waves
Brings harmony and peace
I welcome the breeze
As I surrender to the weightlessness
My soul feels loved and joyous
Tears of joy mingles as sweet droplets
Floating with the sweet breeze
Fresh breeze from afar
To which I surrender at will
Our aromas, intoxicating and blended.
Engraving eternally our memories.

You nails sunk deep in my flesh
and our breaths are one.

We are alive
shåi Nov 2014
i once had a cinnamon jar
but it didn't really hold cinnamon
it held something called feelings

these feelings were like
maybe scented roses
( i can't really remember)
that was something only you gave me

there was another thing
you gave me the day i
met you
(you called it love)

i had asked where is it
you pointed out in the distance
and said "look over there"
(i still did not see it)

i must have been blinded
or maybe your piercing silence
was what i need for you to tell me

you lead me out to look at the night sky
i told you it was lovely
(but you had hated it)
i did not understand

and i thought i would never.

you asked me
what colour the moon was
i said white
and you shook your head

and said;

my love, the moon
is my heart
and the sun is my
trapped soul

it took centuries
for me to understand
what you had said
(b.d.s.)
Grandma.
musical aromas,
beads and prayers.
Grandma.
I miss my Grandma.
J A M Aug 2014
A Parisian storm
Romantic aromas, wine
Cool rain, intoxicating
An interesting place, paradise
It can be anywhere
You are

— The End —