#scents - Hello Poetry

Total me a dream Find me, a corner of an eye Save me, the turn of chaste, in whim And poise, me is a reason to be why A house... A character of decency, we delve long and tight A stirring hour, we hope is beyond a days shroud Taken with the memory, of sincerity to share might...? A place... Found with the eyes of wonder, we make for ourselves Chance heiring, in the name of a vice's pace Of coping how, and the semblance of seclusion, a wealth? A room... For sign's of witness, particular to shadows of change Wealth is to be the common, the thought to let liberty mushroom And become a friend, of worth in loyal sates; however strange... A step... Forward with communion to entail even the solitude, we meant For a night's angel, and the demands of couth we select for wit? See the composed guide me to the strength I know, is more sent... A stone we should know... Passing all to follow the method of our following Promise and privilege, in the seem, to wish once upon a time to owe Swept away with the today we accept, is a now in the hallowing...

0

Jun 28, 2023

Jun 28, 2023 at 8:50 PM UTC

david-hilburn

Breaking The Chains Of Seasons? (Suicidal Tendency's)

Total me a dream Find me, a corner of an eye Save me, the turn of chaste, in whim And poise, me is a reason to be why A house... A character of decency, we delve long and tight A stirring hour, we hope is beyond a days shroud Taken with the memory, of sincerity to share might...? A place... Found with the eyes of wonder, we make for ourselves Chance heiring, in the name of a vice's pace Of coping how, and the semblance of seclusion, a wealth? A room... For sign's of witness, particular to shadows of change Wealth is to be the common, the thought to let liberty mushroom And become a friend, of worth in loyal sates; however strange... A step... Forward with communion to entail even the solitude, we meant For a night's angel, and the demands of couth we select for wit? See the composed guide me to the strength I know, is more sent... A stone we should know... Passing all to follow the method of our following Promise and privilege, in the seem, to wish once upon a time to owe Swept away with the today we accept, is a now in the hallowing...

24

Coffee, I adore thee, somehow you never bore me. Bold and dark or mild and smooth, you get me up and on the move. In warm embrace or cool frappe, mocha, french roast, or tall latte, crema, sospeso or con panna, you never fail to make my day. It’s the best thing ever manufactured, without it, my mind is slow and scattered, for a quiz or formulating I’d be knackered, every morning the Keurig is where we gather. You pick me up and keep me keen, in complementing any cuisine, by delivering a dose of sweet caffeine, you are the original magic bean. In doses quick or lingered over, on mornings with a hangover, I reach for you, your warm embrace, the morning fogginess to erase. The flavors, the scent, which is the best? They are of compound interest. French press or espresso - take your pick - they all provide that delicious kick. Jitter juice, rocket fuel, cup of joe, cuppa, morning brew or ristretto, your flavors please, your scent rouses, a coffee shop is where the crowd is. In slang they call it Mormon-crack, but sugared up or with a snack, with creamy art or straight-up black once I’ve got it, you won’t get it back.

0

Jan 27, 2023

Jan 27, 2023 at 9:27 AM UTC

anaisvionet

coffeene

Coffee, I adore thee, somehow you never bore me. Bold and dark or mild and smooth, you get me up and on the move. In warm embrace or cool frappe, mocha, french roast, or tall latte, crema, sospeso or con panna, you never fail to make my day. It’s the best thing ever manufactured, without it, my mind is slow and scattered, for a quiz or formulating I’d be knackered, every morning the Keurig is where we gather. You pick me up and keep me keen, in complementing any cuisine, by delivering a dose of sweet caffeine, you are the original magic bean. In doses quick or lingered over, on mornings with a hangover, I reach for you, your warm embrace, the morning fogginess to erase. The flavors, the scent, which is the best? They are of compound interest. French press or espresso - take your pick - they all provide that delicious kick. Jitter juice, rocket fuel, cup of joe, cuppa, morning brew or ristretto, your flavors please, your scent rouses, a coffee shop is where the crowd is. In slang they call it Mormon-crack, but sugared up or with a snack, with creamy art or straight-up black once I’ve got it, you won’t get it back.

32

Leaf litter sheep **** verdant verges flowers that smell foreign but aren’t wet earth telling truth moves to concrete and tarmac who lie often and heat is turned to memory steps from animal tracks to animals tracked have tumble drier breeze mocking those prior flowers **** smoked appreciatively to thank the peace as if laws don’t exist and the lick of car exhaust to recall poison and then home

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Jul 27, 2021

Jul 27, 2021 at 8:37 AM UTC

drunkenkind

Following nose

Leaf litter sheep **** verdant verges flowers that smell foreign but aren’t wet earth telling truth moves to concrete and tarmac who lie often and heat is turned to memory steps from animal tracks to animals tracked have tumble drier breeze mocking those prior flowers **** smoked appreciatively to thank the peace as if laws don’t exist and the lick of car exhaust to recall poison and then home

16

DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, things called faded never were:3 losing hope on the the line a beak of joy once in my lifetime miracle from the ending never want to manipulate a bending the polar of the polar was at that stake a back to back felt like a heart break favourite on the eyes no need for excuses or pathetic lies goddesses of killers breathed into a caterpillar but the butterfly not to live ought to die on a yellow leaf to rot and cry a shoulder to hang on not written on that destiny today of all days the dangerous whispers to bethany how much of months are upcome to bare the yin battle of love in a spiced up of a resentment called yang in melody to fear connected to the neck right there to the ear to no one but me ------ravenfeels

0

Apr 29, 2021

Apr 29, 2021 at 1:54 PM UTC

raven-feels

To No One But Me

DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, things called faded never were:3 losing hope on the the line a beak of joy once in my lifetime miracle from the ending never want to manipulate a bending the polar of the polar was at that stake a back to back felt like a heart break favourite on the eyes no need for excuses or pathetic lies goddesses of killers breathed into a caterpillar but the butterfly not to live ought to die on a yellow leaf to rot and cry a shoulder to hang on not written on that destiny today of all days the dangerous whispers to bethany how much of months are upcome to bare the yin battle of love in a spiced up of a resentment called yang in melody to fear connected to the neck right there to the ear to no one but me ------ravenfeels

21

I caught a whiff of you In your cloud of tobacco It was a soft, subtle smell Enough to call me back though It tickled my nose and my other senses It wasn't floral like rose It was just your pretenses There was lavender burning But that wasn't it either It was sultry and raw I don't know why I bothered I couldn't rest my finger I don't know what it was Perhaps it was your eyes? Burning down our love

0

Apr 26, 2021

Apr 26, 2021 at 2:10 PM UTC

cosmic_laughter

Intimacy & Cigarettes

I caught a whiff of you In your cloud of tobacco It was a soft, subtle smell Enough to call me back though It tickled my nose and my other senses It wasn't floral like rose It was just your pretenses There was lavender burning But that wasn't it either It was sultry and raw I don't know why I bothered I couldn't rest my finger I don't know what it was Perhaps it was your eyes? Burning down our love

16

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! 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.

0

Apr 26, 2020

Apr 26, 2020 at 11:54 AM UTC

lily-audra

These Joys

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! 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.

28

cinnamon crisp pages of a new book cider crushed leaves coffee and cream cookies fresh from the oven cement, damp after rain

0

Nov 10, 2019

Nov 10, 2019 at 12:17 PM UTC

smokingstardust

the smell of autumn

cinnamon crisp pages of a new book cider crushed leaves coffee and cream cookies fresh from the oven cement, damp after rain

7

Scent... ............is 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 bay...you'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... :::::::::: Sally Copyright Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan January 30, 2018 HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY TO ALL MOTHERS AND GRANDMOTHERS !!!

0

May 10, 2019

May 10, 2019 at 7:45 AM UTC

sally-a-bayan

Scent

Scent... ............is 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 bay...you'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... :::::::::: Sally Copyright Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan January 30, 2018 HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY TO ALL MOTHERS AND GRANDMOTHERS !!!

41

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

0

Sep 17, 2018

Sep 17, 2018 at 5:51 PM UTC

Lahkeesha

Your skin, a perfume

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

10

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.

0

Sep 15, 2018

Sep 15, 2018 at 11:40 AM UTC

jp-goss

Candles

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.

41

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.

0

Sep 12, 2018

Sep 12, 2018 at 7:48 PM UTC

riko

nostalgia

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.

10

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.... Sally © Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan July 25, 2018

0

Jul 25, 2018

Jul 25, 2018 at 6:19 AM UTC

sally-a-bayan

Scents

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.... Sally © Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan July 25, 2018

23

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

0

Jul 15, 2018

Jul 15, 2018 at 11:20 AM UTC

stranger_poetry

perfume

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

7

I keep slicing reality With the Knife of Reason, Yet brushing winds Carry scents of hope. Neuron connections of Misconceptions - Is that causation Or empty words? I keep dicing my days Climbing the ego Of a shoreless mind You keep coming my way Wearing nothing but bands Around your thighs - Limelight moments. Ticking clocks. Shivers Down my spine.

0

May 26, 2018

May 26, 2018 at 10:46 AM UTC

ako

Strawberries & Mascarpone

I keep slicing reality With the Knife of Reason, Yet brushing winds Carry scents of hope. Neuron connections of Misconceptions - Is that causation Or empty words? I keep dicing my days Climbing the ego Of a shoreless mind You keep coming my way Wearing nothing but bands Around your thighs - Limelight moments. Ticking clocks. Shivers Down my spine.

18

Hear the chimes ringing, this sleepy Sunday singing. Monday will bring persimmons, and Tuesday a touch of snow. Eyelids grow heavy, the evening siestas are winning. The trees shade are giving and sweet scents are brimming among these lovely Sunday trimmings. Oh, what a fine Spring day.

0

Apr 13, 2018

Apr 13, 2018 at 4:51 PM UTC

JoBarb

Spring Days

Hear the chimes ringing, this sleepy Sunday singing. Monday will bring persimmons, and Tuesday a touch of snow. Eyelids grow heavy, the evening siestas are winning. The trees shade are giving and sweet scents are brimming among these lovely Sunday trimmings. Oh, what a fine Spring day.

10

is or was for confusion title from title bring scented kisses was her real man really that brutal touch me here she was so tender to the mouth as her skin let me sink in i can only speak for myself the way she makers me feel as if we fly away together she spirals me at times but my confidence shall never be shaken she shakes me here there is no contradictions in love my confidence could never be shaken she has shaken me from my core you will find me within her she has always been in me we have stood on shorelines with blotted sands through storms in the truest of dry desert lands from here to there we reach she comes to me as an lady we glady wash her feet forget that p word ? ... .. .

0

Feb 23, 2018

Feb 23, 2018 at 11:20 AM UTC

lashingstars

that p word

is or was for confusion title from title bring scented kisses was her real man really that brutal touch me here she was so tender to the mouth as her skin let me sink in i can only speak for myself the way she makers me feel as if we fly away together she spirals me at times but my confidence shall never be shaken she shakes me here there is no contradictions in love my confidence could never be shaken she has shaken me from my core you will find me within her she has always been in me we have stood on shorelines with blotted sands through storms in the truest of dry desert lands from here to there we reach she comes to me as an lady we glady wash her feet forget that p word ? ... .. .

56

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.

0

Jan 13, 2018

Jan 13, 2018 at 11:41 AM UTC

Vanguard-Poetry23

Musk

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.

16