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Anais Vionet Apr 18
Winter’s releasing us from its perpetually gray and gloomy grip.

Who can study in their room, on a beautiful spring afternoon?
Azaleas assail ya, with champagne petals of bubblegum fuchsias,
they blush in near neon reflection, with a mathematical, fractal perfection.

Courtyards that were once dark and uninviting, frosty scenes,
sport impromptu manicured carpets, of flawless, vibrant greens.

Dogwoods explode, abruptly overnight, with cherry blossom whites
they blush like brides on parade, they sachet, swaying flag-like bouquets.

Ordinary maples become emerald queens by unfurling avocado, hunter and chartreuse leaves,
accented with vibrant electric limes and honeydews, as if to say, ‘We too can please.’

New life stretches, almost yawning, in the seemingly reborn sun, insects hum as they cultivate,
birds flit excitedly, as if to say,  ‘Why’re you inside? Come out and play - why do you even hesitate?’

I know there’s something in spring that’s irresistible, pheromonal, hormonal, surfeit and emotional.
Is it the solar zenith angle or the sun’s declination that produces these delightful inclinations?
.
.

Songs for this:
Funky Galileo by Sure sure
You get what you give by New Radicals
New World Coming by Cass Elliot
BLT Merriam Webster word of the day challenge: Surfeit: too much, excess, more than you need.
ajit patel Dec 2015
Weaving a dream.
Wide awake..
Not a trace of sleep in my tired lids...
It's a fugue in technicolour...
Lots of green,  red and blues,  
pink of flesh,  a bit of yellow,  
Violet and ochre..
More there are..
That's not of it all...
Swirling and sticking in fractal patterns..
Vibrating colours resonating through my bones..
waves of liquid radiation permeating the cytoplasm.
Pheromonal colours casting heady notes..
The eyes see it,  the heart feels it,  
the mind studies it,  the hands caress it...
The senses,  limited by the  number six,  
coming to grasp the boundless!!!

Such infinite.....???

What???

beauty...
Cerrie Feb 2014
I know not what to say
Or see
As your tardy empathy
Breathes along my sutured neck.
Your lushness of waves hath borne
Golden glimmers of fragrance too sweet
That nerve endings fray.
Smirk so softly into my soul
Your pheromonal whispers
So that dreams may weep syrup,
So may my cheeks dew with sugar.
Lusher are your fallacies
Than your twirled smirks of incandescence;
Lusher are your maladies
Than your smoldered iridescent kisses.
Michael W Noland Jun 2013
So elusive in her fluid movement

Almost intrusive
These lucid
Strings

This ...pheromonal lingering
Between ...us

It pulls closed
Our dis ...tance

Unable to resist

I'm showing teeth
And losing sssteam

I am

Weakening

Receding back
From knuckle bitten screams
Anais Vionet Oct 2021
Lisa, a fellow freshman who lives in our neighbor suite, is a breathtaking beauty from New York - the kind of beauty that toppled ancient Greek empires - a sun-like beacon to the male ***. Anna (one of my four suitemates) gasped and said, “The gods walk among us.” The first time we saw her at orientation.

If Lisa lays in one of the hammocks in the quad to study - in minutes there’ll be 10 guys doing athletic male things like throwing footballs and foot juggling fobs - anything olympian and roughly physical to show off and draw her interest.

Late one afternoon, Anna and I were studying and watching such a scene from a second floor patio garden. Sunny, (another of my suitemates) just returning from class, took in the scene. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply.

“Are you smelling roses?” Anna observed.
“Better than roses,” Sunny said. Looking down at the preening guys. “They’re gorgeous,” she sighed, “Why can’t I have just ONE?”
“They’re already entranced.” Anna said, peering over her sunglasses.
“Awwww!” Sunny purred, “Look at the pretty one in the orange shorts.”
“Too late, I said, “she’s already culled him out from the herd.”
It was true, Lisa was slowly leading him away from the pack, spellbound.
“She’ll probably eat him.” I said.
“How does she DO that?” Anna asked admiringly.
“I don’t think she even tries - it’s probably pheromonal.” Sunny said ruefully.

Our envy isn’t raw enough to curdle into dislike - we agree that she doesn’t seem to TRY to be the center of attention - we just wonder where she finds the time for it all.
a snipit from college life
Onoma Mar 4
the rocking booths

of arcades.

rated: R, by pheromonal

happenstance.

inboxed: 17, at full capacity.

pacman & stale popcorn--

that gushes butter down

pipelined necks.

matchmaking with

Elio's pizza--dude!

an eighty-year-old strand

of hair.

dyed purple...too west for

its coast.

every jammed quarter's a

pit boss.

David Lynch banging his

57-Chevy fore-lock, against

glass that contains Wednesday's

bacon.

stealing out of the glass of

a corner store.

candy store--such betrayable

headspace, baggable sugar.

shoot...

— The End —