#perfumes
Last weekend was “Parent’s” weekend at Yale. A time when parents are formally invited to visit. They have receptions and other events - but no potato-sack races (which is disappointing). My parents couldn’t come, they’ve never come to parent’s weekend, but Leong’s parents came again, from Macao, China, a 16,060-mile round trip.
There was a time when boys could tank my self-confidence with a word. When the male gaze seemed overpowering. I’d felt constantly evaluated - but I’ve evolved - somewhat. We’re going to a party. Lisa, Leong, Sunny, Anna and I - we’ve got our shine on and we’re drawing looks. Well, ok, Lisa’s drawing looks and I’m in the general frame.
Lisa sneezed, “The air quality’s bad tonight,” she announced, wiping her nose with a Kleenex.
“I don’t have any allergies,” I bragged. “Me neither,” Leong added.
“If you can breathe the air in China,” I said, “You’re golden.”
Leong laughed “Tài zhēnshí liǎo,” (Too true!) She agreed.
As we left the more street-lit part of the path, the moon, wandering in and out of the clouds, created moving shadows that peopled the darkness with phantoms. Was that impression the paranoia of fatigue? I haven’t been getting much sleep lately. Or maybe it’s October and Halloween’s just around the corner.
I was walking in the rear, nestled in the mingled scents of my roommates' perfumes that, like rare blossoms, enchanted and excited the child in me. I wasn’t paying attention, and I stubbed my toe on a misaligned sidewalk tile. Don’t you hate the gap between stubbing your toe and feeling the pain?
Oct 11, 2023
Oct 11, 2023 at 8:15 PM UTC
Let bygones be bygones,
Don’t want to be an icon,
I’d rather make time
For the things that are vital
I’ve been running on fumes
How I love her perfumes
Kiss her on the neck,
Tell her about the brand new
Views
Don’t get it confused
The apartment’s empty
And I’ve been on a journey
The voices getting blurry
The love has probably perished
The moments that we cherish
Forever as a memory, but
I’m losing track,
I woke up early mornin’
Covered in sweat
Oh, I got a smartphone,
I’m so fond of that
But nobody calls me
And nobody texts
The laptop’s always on
I never turn it off
That artificial light
Always has to glow;
Counting hours till the dawn
And the time is moving slow
I’m forever getting bored
And my interests become torn
But thats the simplicity, though
Thats the simplicity, though
Is the simplicity better I don’t know,
You ask me where I’m headed,
I don’t know.
Aug 29, 2018
Aug 29, 2018 at 8:11 AM UTC
This summer air carrying sweet perfumes,
Of the youths and lasses,
Coming off the elaborate costumes,
Of new fashion's masses.
The fair views are waiting to be captured,
Artist minds enraptured,
Into the bright spring each camera zooms,
With transparent glasses.
All this curious and lovely asking,
A romantic setting,
Leading to melancholic, soothing glooms,
***** put in strange classes.
One glance was stretched into a reverie,
With bliss in memory,
Like sunbeams through thin curtains in dark rooms,
And slowly it passes.
Here summery embroidery's read,
Mâhî's line is his thread,
And his imagination is what blooms,
Pages are canvases.
Apr 9, 2018
Apr 9, 2018 at 8:37 AM UTC
My favorite is the one by Jovan
The pervasive scent , nothing tops a musk
Why not Drakkar Noir or Ralph's Polo,Ivan ?
It's the appeal and aroma I love the most !
Musk is my favorite cologne.
That aromatic substance,the smell ,
The way it absorbs like a sponge
The mesmerizing and addictive spell .
The power and confidence when worn ,
the longevity and its staying power
That permeates the soul,deep as a ship's horn
Unique scent that lasts for hours .
The power of its undeniable presence
That lasts from dawn to dusk
Nothing compares to the fragrance
Of the distinct and classic scent of the musk.
Jan 13, 2018
Jan 13, 2018 at 11:41 AM UTC
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
She had her own signature scent,
A lasting aroma, that lingers in every corner of her home
As the strong winds picked up the scent,
and move it quite a distance.
She carefully prepare the mixture from the earth
Cuss ,kuss grass, Jasmine, rose buds and roots,
Before she prepare the mixtures with that special touch
Like a fine wine from the winery,
“One more drop of Rosemary oil, she would say
This would make the scent last for eternity,
Old Granddad he would make silly jokes,
His word usages, madam chemist, a witch with a spoon,
But in the end, she would always made a special potion for him
We would carefully select the flaky mahogany woods shaving,
with combinations of fresh vanilla leaves with extracting oil with oils
Those homemade perfumes from flowers had lots of potential.
Granddad hand craft the wooded bottle stoppers with his chisel,
It was a joy to watch, the old Irish typhoon working and smoking his pipe
Old Alan baffler was Nana nickname for him
She would scold and speak harshly to us
for touching the those colorful luring bottles
“Don’t open those bottles, you malicious children
Else a witch would appear: She would often say,
For me, my nana was an old chemist,
with old decade’s wooden sticks.
Preparing the mixtures like a fine wine,
I am forever grateful for those memories
I should have follow in her footsteps,
Her secret potions, her gift,
Is worth millions of dollars today
Looking back on yesteryears , good parenting
and good memories
Oct 6, 2015
Oct 6, 2015 at 8:48 AM UTC