you used to come over wearing my favorite scent
that black bottle of jean paul gaultier you had
a quiet gesture, maybe the only hint
that you might have cared

it wrapped around me, got under my skin
soaked into my sheets like you belonged there
even after you left, i could still feel you all day
your scent softly flowing everywhere
  
i would sleep as if i were holding you
hugging the traces of you left on my blanket
until one night, you lie down beside me again
if i would ever cross your mind by chance

somehow your smell disappeared day by day
replaced by vanilla-scented cigars instead
leaving me nothing to hold on when you are gone
except the ashes of you lying by my bed

Enthralling – the vanished fragrances; my olfactory senses
are akin to a daisy, each petal plucked accompanied by
a murmur of “if she loves me, loves me not”

Her scent – sends sparks of shivers through me;
a fragrance bold enough to fill the space, gentle
not to drop it all.

My dear, is that very scent that ensnared my heart.

Let love like sweet perfume
Permeate this sacred room
No longer is Jesus in the tomb
The stone was rolled away
To reveal a brilliant light
All around stood amazed
At this miraculous sight
The sweet perfume of lilies
Was caught up on the breeze
And lifted up to Heaven on high
Like the prayers down on our knees
He is risen, he lives once more
Oh, come let us worship and adore
Like sweet perfume, we are drawn
To follow and to seek the source
We search for an invisible force
May our lives turn out to be
Like sweet perfume unto thee
Attractive to others, a blessing too
But, in all things, may it point to you
Let your love, like sweet perfume,
Surround me and always enfold
As I strive to listen and do what I'm told
A love worth more than all the gold
Let your love warm my heart and soul
Kindle the flame of love in these coals
Let me burn for you with holy desire
Let it reach ever farther and higher
To you, our prayers are oh so sweet
Without your love we are incomplete
Fill our lungs with the sweet peace of God
That we may walk where even angels haven't trod

All I need is a whiff
Of You
And I expound a million poems
On bare tree limbs
innumerable theories of multi-dimensional possibilities
I explode into the wind surfing with countless wings
And I sing in languages
I had never heard or learnt before
All I need is a whiff
Of You
And suddenly it's spring
The stark days of empty eyes and
void within
The dark days of drought upon my heart
And blue necrosis of my pen
Are things of the past
All I need is a whiff
Of you
And Like unfinished paintings on a
Rain washed golden coast
Washed clean, shining,
I am a plush new page
aflush with spring
Easily forgotten the eons of glacial silence
I am ready to somersault and sing
A whiff of you
And I spin parallel universes
Always You my emperor & I the empress
Repeats in each world I create
And here I am espousing paeans
Of what's turning out to be of epic proportions
Of orginally my two para hymns
All I need is a whiff
And I know not where and how or even why
these Thoughts come flooding in
And I am rolling out an endless red carpet
of ceaseless verses
To soften your footfall
in my dreams
All I need is a whiff
And I am in eternal spring
I am a tender shoot racing to embrace the sky
A vein of gold - lode, created in an instant
And I go wild I am on a rampage
Waking ravenous
I am a dictionary of hungry cravings
Despite last night's sumptuous fare
All I need is a whiff
of you
And I am a turmoil
All my theories stand de-constructed
My defences dismantled
My spiritual pursuit mis-directed
My lofty claims in dust
I am a muddy urn of unfulfilled desires
A whiff
All I need is a whiff..
------
©SeemaKJayaraman
Seemakj
Mumbai
17 Mar 2020

Nakedly bottled.
Capturing bursting seasons
here and now.

Life, delicate in its notes,  
the top notes,
lithe as youth,
citrus and bloom,  
ever briefly,
recondite pleasure,
a suppliance of time
a rush that fades away.  

Heart notes,
the flesh of our days, unfold—  
warm spices, florals, deeper and continues to exude as winter winds careless breath.

In the middle years, the scent sits and blares and mellows—a steady pulse of sandalwood and musk.  

Sultry as the scent may have lingered,
flirtatious colors in the breeze’s hair
the base notes come,
the earthier tones,  
amber and resin,
heavier on the air,  
decays a final wisp
until faint on the skin.

A memory is born.

There are certain smiles that bend the broken crooked,

certain shades of green light that wilt flowers in the field.

It is an ‘as if autumn walked in with a jug of herbicide

and started perfuming life with death.’

Yes, certain smiles that stand on stilts to prop them up.

Smiles leaving someone so bent that they see nothing

save for dirt staring back at them.  

There are certain smiles that bend the broken crooked.

Antique
paper
& ink
& glue,
a fragrance
I drink
in through
my nose,
fragrant
like a dead rose.
I fan my face,
& fall into
an antique book aroma coma.