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Lily Audra Apr 26
The leaves on the tree outside my window get bigger by millimeters,
And the umami delight of marmite on crumpets is comforting and luscious,
One eye shut because the sun if filling it with heat and light,
This way I can still read my book in the sun,
These joys,
These small joys,
Which you have to take note of, you must,
Are endless;
Cold beer zapping my tongue like electricity, zing zing,
Dippy eggs with toast crunchy and eggs runny , salt flecked across the top,
Coconut hand-cream rubbed between each finger and thumb meticulously,
Music pouring through rooms into the flat and lilting in and out of earshot from outside, inside, next door and my radio,
Sparrows with their endless cheep cheeping,
Steam from strong black tea, gilded with rose, warming my hands nose and stomach,
The tiny hairs on raspberries, so soft and the juice so ****,
Plans to go no where, somewhere, the pub! A river! A farm! On a train! On a boat! On a bus!
Freckles springing up like stars on my girls nose,
Candles which pack the room full of floral, honeyed scents,
Crunchy apples,
Flaky pastry,
Warm bread,
The tsssssssttt when you open a can of Coke,
Lemons, just lemons,
The bbzzzz bbzzzz of my phone carrying I love yous, and for ***** sakes,
You have to take note of these joys, you must,
Because when I think about 16 women dead by lovers hands,
I feel I've hollow bones,
I need the beer, eggs, hand-cream, music, sparrows, lemons and bbzzzz, tea, bread, pastry and plans to keep me upright,
And I send thoughts of dippy eggs and lemons to those without.
hiraeth Nov 2019
crisp pages of a new book
crushed leaves
coffee and cream
cookies fresh from the oven
cement, damp after rain
Sally A Bayan May 2019
Scent... a spray  
of sweet, nagging fragrance,
borne by a rush of air,
touching nostrils as it travels,
to stimulate, and scintillate
a parade of memories,
especially, when distance is great
and truly separates...
could be from a bouquet of roses,
or a handful of jasmine...or,
the welcome smell of cinnamon, sage,
other spices...elements of what we call,
the fragrances of good cooking...or,
those of sweat and a fruity cologne,
blending, while working,
from caring....from loving...
it's a brush of summer wind
that captures, even a bit of a sniff
of any, or all of these scents...
these smells dwell in the senses
they reassure...that one person is never away
fears are held at're okay,
it brings calm to one's soul...
the nose...the other senses know,
the heart and the mind know
the source of all
these fragrances...
no perfume could ever equal
the scent(s) of a woman...


Copyright Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
January 30, 2018

(From 2018......edited a bit.)
The lightest hints of honey
A rich muggy scent of dew
Scents of the east
As the sun slowly rises
Brilliantly orange and shockingly sweet
And the lightest hints of honey
Stirs your mahogany cup of brew
And the rich drops of dew
It's that which I breath
Your skin a perfume
My favorite perfume
JP Goss Sep 2018
In the middle of it all, linoleum and cleaners
I find the shelves of candles and pry off their lids
Just to find out what scents they hid.
No noise, no racket, and nothing meaner.

The balsam fir in craters of wax
A chirstmas tree hunt and sugarsnackes
Recollect times to play and relax
Late December days and skies overcast
The carrides back smelled of this.

Of the wild rose, all pink and flush
Our faces betrayed us after stealing a kiss
And stealing away hidden with a wild blush
When asked just where we were.

I’d say the black bamboo
Where the growing pains began
I remembered what I never wanted to know
Smelling her sweat on my hands.

After every cupcake and fall harvest
We felt torn in two
Amidst the parents and summer’s zest
Everything I wanted couldn’t possibly be true,

The strawberries, the honeybees
Clean linen on a quick, tense rainstorm
I fell to my knees,
Afraid that my passions would
Take on another form.

Far too wild and winterborn,
You have your sleights in sympathy
And obtain what may decorate your court
I amuse you with love: an elegy.

But, the heart is no traitor, not to any court
And says I’m no citizen of your lovely heart
I’m a smiling nomad that goes in due time
And, love, we can trade castles
Since you’re no citizen of mine.

Again, the scents linger with no flame to their wick
Closed were their lids to choke out the burn
Cool were the insides, like ash in an urn
A single spark dazzles but goes out too quick
Each smell left unfamiliar may not have you
It’s not you and me, but me and you and you and you.
earthling Sep 2018
the faint smell of rain
and the remnants in my coffee cup
from hours of early morning
wake me from my sleep
and as i lay in the space
between dreaming and consciousness
i breathe in the scent again
in hopes that it would take me back
to a similar time in the past
when i was closer to home.
Sally A Bayan Jul 2018
The sight of rain,
of wet clothes, wet plants,
wet doorsteps, wet hopes and dreams,
and, that known scent of sadness and grief
all these...create soggy, sluggish minds

we just lost two dogs to the virus
the glum of monsoon rains affects the moods
the "yays" from cancelled classes
have all passed...
sun is shining, not too bright, though,
peeps like a tease, but,
enough to dry the ground...

i see vacant lots...almost naked now
motor's droning hum is a lullaby
that lulls the mind
a strong smell stirs the nostrils and
defines a welcome pleasance...
i sniff....and chase away sadness,
with this intriguing scent
.....of freshly cut grass....


© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
    July 25, 2018
stranger Jul 2018
It's been weeks since I put a drop of perfume on my skin
I used to love it.
Now days it feels useless.
I feel like the scent of dream tears and sweaty worries would follow me no matter what I cover my skin with.
I take more showers wishing I'd feel better.
And the calming scent lasts until memories catch up to me.
It feels useless but I'll put perfume on tomorrow... And wait for the scent to slowly dissappear again
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