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ryn Feb 2015
Blue clouds gaze the wrapped sun
frozen kisses in my blood
travelling a thousand miles
to meet up with you.

There is none else walking
down this path where memories
wake up and dance
inside my armored heart.

I peeled off each kisses embrace
out of my parched lips.
I shook off the tree,
where your scent had blossomed.

Every step down this scarcely trodden path saw...
Each peel fall with helpless, damsel-like grace.
Brown leaves shone amber touched by fingers of the sun
Invasion of warmth through my greyed bony carapace.

Gentle tremors reverberate within with subtle anguish.
Sweet scented portal that took me back,
To the illusion of time where we once were...
In drunken stupor...laying under a star strewn canvas of black.

Senses that spoke of a great fantastical tale.
You are still here... In this cloying void with no one around...
Only that scent...your scent tugging on my core
Invisible tendrils berthing my feet back on ground.


Alone and wanting don't want to be anymore.
I want to feast my lungs on your skin once more.
I want to vibrate under your touch again,
In anguished anticipation and sweet pain.

I hurl your name to the echoing wind,
Blowing ferociously over the closed passage.
Only to find that I'm but elongating
the distance between our fading wishful stars.

Fading far only to find that I'm lost yet again,
Still harvesting a basket full of ripened hope.
Traversing planes with warped, slanted doorways,
Frantically seeking purchase on knobs with fevered gropes.

Heavy layered breaths inhaled too shallow...
Tracing missteps to decipher what it all meant.
When all is moot...weary, weathered and futile,
Forever I'll be bathing in the familiarity of your soothing, nectarous scent...



Dajena M
**ryn
My first collab with the incredible Dajena M. She had deleted her account and the collaborative pieces she had posted went away as well. But... I found them!!! Yay!

I'm so glad we had the chance to collaborate on such an amazing piece together.
Ozioma Ogbaji Apr 2019
I still see you when I close my eyes
I still smell you when I sniff my clothes
Though far, you feel so close
Especially when I close my eyes
You did not keep your word this time
You spoke the truth yet it was a lie
You said you were leaving and sure you did
But the truth is you never left
devine Aug 2018
the flowers were blooming
so were you
your eyes were glowing
so were mine

waving deserts
drank water from the river
danced through the grass
you led me closer
with just a single glance

the sweetest taste
strongest desire
i've never dreamed of
it whispered in chemical symbols
something i've never heard of

there was a lot to learn
but time wasn't at our side

i saw right through the eyes
fearful when wish to fight
despite it all
we continue on
fools in a glimpse of paradise
you saw right through the eyes
let go when wish to hold on

it was okay
while the petals covered
it was insane
to control the uncontrolled

but the flowers were still blooming
the scent of lights and waters
blue to green
i found myself longing for you
for summer
before it wilted away forever

before you
slipped away forever
Call Me By Your Name
Kemy Sep 2018
Umm, the presence and scent of a man
Magnetic attraction where his feet stands
His natural body charismatic aroma
Element of charms, seeping to awaken a woman out a sensual coma
Is it his eyes, the soul behind his life’s mysteries
Flirtation in his smile, tells me he has an undercover ****** history
It is his nose that smells out my charms
An enticing deep baritone voice, his spoken words, which turns me on

Is it the erratic heartbeat he has for a woman, his passionate relent
Stealing my breath, as he tenderly seals my lips in an impassioned moment of content
The strength in his biceps
His triceps
Strong, yet such comforting arms
An epitome of steel, circled around a woman in winter life’s storms
In the cold of night, his body providing your heated warmth

His chest, a hard pillow to tell your doubts, your uncertainties, your fears
Pulling you closer onto it, his reassuring words eradicating your tears
His intellectual mind to think as a man
A stimulating, slam bam and thank you ma’am, or your personal grand slam
His weakening love, taking your body beyond the stars
Woman from Venus, my handsome Man for Mars

His groin, and his family jewels from which it springs forth
Erected compass of his wand now pointing North
A woman’s reservation to tease, please, stroke, or allow it to choke
His loud murmurs shadowing your moans, echoing in the wind
****, I love the presence of men, and his undulated carnal sins
From the first taste of honey dipped Butter ***, me

As his giving oral fixation is traveling free
Freeing the elixir of juices that deems to flee
His hairy legs as he stands to lift my weight
In the shower, no wait, as I anticipate
Hooking my twerking bait
His physique in general…Oh, God thank you
Without the scent of a man, we women would not know what to do

Your presence to a woman is our earthly food
Our je ne sais quoi for our every ****** mood
Rather you are standing, lying still, or upside down
The blissful 69 number conquered as we’re fooling around
My Dream Weaver
My distance heartbeat receiver

His dripping sweat
Droplets to my skin have been met
The presence and scent of a man holds me throughout the night as our eyes finally rest
The best smell in the world is that man that you love.

Jennifer Aniston
DivineDao Jul 2016
Caress weariness away
Sing a happy song
Fold up fresh dry
Sun touched
T - shirts
*******
Pants
Silk
Bras
Linen
Water
Young two
Apple trees
Rosemary thyme
Basil Greek and rhyme
Kevin J Taylor Oct 2015
A gentle scent surrounds me.  It eddies,
flows, reminds me.  I dream.  Look long
and away until just so and seeing you
and having only to say—  I seize upon
some flower, something I love, you see,
and say—  This is where I begin.  This is
where I am.  This is where I am re-awoken.
And in that span you hold me with interest,
with affinity.  You who can never end,
whose beginning was before mine—
From non-existence you rekindle me.
.
Not all poems survive. I've lost a few and let others go. My current collection of poems is available on Kindle and in paperback. It is called "3201 e's" (that is approximately how many e's are in the manuscript which is a very unpoetic title but a reflection on the creation of poetry by common means.)
ryn Oct 2014
Brittle dry earth beaming with longing,
For wet kisses from heavy heavens' door,
In soothing rain, finds the heart’s belonging,
Releasing the sweetest aroma...petrichor.

The mist of warm moist wafting playfully,
Kissing and engulfing in a subtle unworldly spin...
A feeling ensnared by the clutches of fond remembrance.
Like the cadence of your breaths upon my parched skin...


A taste of your last dance on my fervent lips,
Awoken with each drop, still makes me thirst,
I lift my head, entranced by memory’s grips,
Craving you, again to make my heart burst.

Here again...two drenched hearts encased in glass,
Latent spectres melded together as they did before,
Promises wrapped and bound to the gaits of the other,
In eternal dance, laced with everlasting redolent petrichor...


Dajena M
**rhymesmith
Another collaboration of thoughts between lovers of a natural phenom.
Shout out to Ms. D. for the magic hidden within her mind, heart and written word. Thank you for another opportunity... Enjoyed it so...
So two down, 8 more to go! ;)

Hope you enjoy this, beautiful people of the universe!
Luisa C Sep 2016
i'm taking in your scent that still lingers against my hands
before i go to sleep,
to remind me one last time of the day i had with you,
and to pretend you're here whispering goodnight
with soft protective arms wrapped around me.
jane taylor May 2016
luscious lime green grass
painted sky of aqua blue
breathe in summer's scent

©2016janetaylor
i paste many of my poems over my photography
~ to see the picture i took that inspired this haiku poem http://www.janetaylorhardy.com/#!summers-scent/c186k/574d9e1c0cf28b872a2326e7
Sally A Bayan May 2019
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 !!!
(From 2018......edited a bit.)
SH Jun 2018
the scent of your aftershave
mingled with
cologne and coffee,
your radiant laughter
was a new spring flower
blossoming out of the barren winter
Shofi Ahmed Jul 2018
My sea is far away
let's meet closer anywhere
under the one same cloud.

My blue water is for the sun.
I sing beneath the wave.

My rose is for the show
I am imbued in the fragrance.
Love is in the air
the scent wafts into my heart.

My sky is open wide
beyond the rainbow
beyond the peacock's eyes.
It hugs the earth
reaching out far afar.

Catch it too
see from beneath the blue.
It casts the birdseye
slips out a butterfly!
A poem from my upcoming book Qun: Love is Unconditional
Tommy Randell Feb 2017
Gin
I take my gin with tonic in
There's not much else to add
Except a slice of lime
If lemon can't be had

My mother used to take it neat
Her kisses tasted so
That floral, perfumed breath
Before she turned to go

As I put her glass away
I'd run my tongue around the rim
Excited by the bitter taste
The committing of a sin

Or cleaning out the residue
With an extended finger
I'd hold it up beneath my nose
To let her presence linger

It is the strongest memory
She died when I was twelve
And I hid the half-full bottle
High on a wardrobe shelf

Night-times in the lonely dark
I would bring her back to mind
And the scent of gin was a longing
For her to be alive

Eventually the bottled dried
And slowly I forgot
Time and other matters
Healed up all the hurt

But gin is still a trigger
And I never drink it neat
It is an instant vision
Of my Mother's 'little treat'

Her perfume, her wedding ring
Chinking on the glass
Her footsteps as she walked away
Her fading carefree laugh

I take my gin with tonic in
There's not much else to add
Except a slice of lime
If lemon can't be had
A straightforward auto-biographical poem. Memory as narrative. My Mother died on the 20th June 1964 - An un-diagnosed alcoholic and an un-labelled bipolar disorder sufferer in a time when such people were just eccentric or mad or worse.
KiraLili Sep 2016
Wafting white Lillies
Mixed with coconut sun kissed skin
I can still smell night
Sunday Morning
Carmen Jane Mar 2019
Luscious scent, her scarf carried,
That she left behind,
On purpose.

Away she took her gaze,
That lasted a second,
On purpose.

Pearly smile, she kindly flashed,
As biding goodbye,
On purpose.

The tab was picked up by her
For that homeless man,
On purpose.

Prayers she hummed in her daily runs,
For all menkind,
On purpose.

Verses she danced, in her mind,
While whispering rhymes,
By accident.

Softly she touched with her silky hands,
Yours, on the bus,
Also, by accident.
Chrissy Nov 2017
Your clothes,
my back.
Your scent
entangled in every inch
of the fabic.
It was my favorite part
of being drowned
in your clothing.
Your scent.
Your safe presence.
No longer.
On the ground, drowning in your clothes
after you promised
it’d never happen again.
Round number 8 now.
Tears seamlessly running
down my face. Drowning.
Your scent, a reminder of each broken promise.
A prisoner of your love.
Chained by your clothing.
Drowning.
Held captive by your scent.
A Henslo May 2019
That it took some time
Overtaking our fear
Is now a precious memory
Reminiscence of yesteryear

Today it's indisputable
Permanently clear
Our bond became eternal
Our concord ceaseless and sincere

In passing I take a sniff
Scenting a souvenir
Of your folded pajamas
In case you're no longer here
AH 2017
Cristina Oct 2018
Your soft kisses on my forehead give me butterflies
Your smile leaves me breathless
Your kisses leave me senseless
Soft traces of your fingertips
And firm hands hold on to my grip

Your scent lingers for hours
Your hugs leave me weightless
Your love leaves me ageless
Soft kisses on my neck
And firm embraces hold me tight
s Apr 2019
I lose myself in a memory of scents.

cigarettes and Chanel
spices and Spring

I lose myself in nostalgic fragments.
s.alixir
Butch Decatoria Nov 2018
The drab curtains and carpet

The naked walls of this bedroom

The stillborn air itself

The hollowness of cold silences

The tendrils of smoke

From a cigarette

In a candy dish ashtray…

The Scent of Lonesome

Dark blue

candy dish &

Cigarettes...
Inspired by a poem R  wrote with very similar titles. TY traveler.
Bee Feb 2018
Down the stairs, my hands a shield
for incoming priority mail,
and trained for the way your body would
hug me closer with every exhale.

Your mother won’t stop calling.
Kind of like the week we spent hopeful
before they sent you away.
Kind of like me just trying to hear your voice,
always searching for something that’s calming.

The windows have
been open since yesterday,
and I heard the bird sing to its sky,
“I love you”
before it started to rain,
darkness swallowed up the sun’s sky
and wilted all our daisy-chains.

Rescued frames surround me,
reserved to tell your stories.
The breeze never fails me,
it carries your scent in flurries.
If I try hard enough, I could feel it

through my hair, and on my lips.
Every night the breeze
brings with it a solar eclipse
that soaks through my skin,
and intertwines with my blood cells,
going straight to the bones that
keep my body from further farewells.

Tomorrow I will build a home with
the words of your silent prayer.
My cracked walls will be painted with
your skin and the scent of your hair.
My new bed will be made with
old t-shirts you always used to wear.

If I could fit your eulogy on this page
I’d make sure to mention the breeze that whirls
through the center of my chest,
and my lungs that faithfully breath the air
that may have once circled your ribcage.
Briar Ren Dec 2018
Your scent lingers
on my pale skin,
and when I inhale
I do not feel the
suffocating weight
of solitude.
Shofi Ahmed Aug 2017
I sniffed a smell of your rose.
Oh, you know what?
It’s enough to thrill the bone.
Just leave a scent in the air
and pop in, take your turn
into a new buzzing world!
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