Hello Poetry is a poetry community that raises money by advertising to passing readers like yourself.

If you're into poetry and meeting other poets, join us to remove ads and share your poetry. It's totally free.
MicMag Jul 24
I've witnessed a beauty
I can't describe
That speaks to my soul
As it swims through my eyes
The silent sounds
Sneak into my mind
The taste lingers on
Leaving sweetness behind
The scent creeps up
To slowly remind
Of the touch that once felt
Makes all else fade
Til only your beauty
Pure beauty remains

There's nothing else
Your beauty remains
Old found poem.
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!
Mo Feb 2017
I thought I loved you,
so I breathed you in.
But It takes a lot
to love the stale air,
to appreciate the smell of a memory.
I think, if I close my eyes
I could taste you on my tounge,
pale nothingness, like luke warm water sliding down my throat. Remember?


Now, I only crave you
when I smell your cologne
as it mixes with sweat,
lingering on someone else's body.
It causes my senses
to go into a frenzy,  a yern for you burns under my skin,
And I crave your flavor.

So I find you,
And drink you down.
Knowing too much of you
 chokes me,
drowns me,
Causes a ringing to blare in my ears.
Wailing in horror,
screaming inward,
 "Why
Did you do this?

For him?"

Repulsed,
I let you get so close.
Yet, I'm sure once I run,
I'll miss the heat
flooding from your body.
That warmth
that has your particular stink.

Before I go,
I take a deep breath,
and inhale you into me,
so for a moment,
you become
the oxygen in my blood.
ABOVE THE FUCHSIA COLORED CITY
IS A FRENCH ROSE COLORED SKY,
SWOLLEN WITH ANOTHER NAME
OTHER THAN CLOUDS COLORED
SALT AND BONES.

THE CITY'S AIR SMELL OF GREY
ELEPHANT'S BREATH AND POETRY.
I BLAME THE LEMONADE  COLORED
RAIN THAT DIDN'T FALL TODAY
FOR THIS CONUNDRUM.

MAYBE THE RAIN IS PROBABLY
SOMEWHERE SITTING STILL
IN THE HOT SEAT OR MAYBE IN
HEAVEN'S COLORLESS TIGHTLY
CLOSED LAP.
SITTING
               THERE
                          THINKING
                             ­                WHAT
                                                       COLORS                      
                                    ­                               GO
                                                                ­         BEST
                                                            ­                     WITH
                                                                ­                         WILD
                                                                ­                    EMOTIONS?
Kevin J Taylor Sep 2015
Roses are red and wood violets are blue.
I love you, Babe, like the dawn loves the dew.
Oh, I love you, Babe, like the dawn and the dew.
I'm bringing home roses and violets too.
I'm bringing home roses and violets for you.

I'm sorry I left, that I never came through.
I'm bringing you flowers—seems all I can do.

I just had to walk. I just had to think.
I just had to find my way back from the brink.

So I'm coming home with the smell of fresh dew
And rosebuds I've stolen like I once stole you.

Roses are red and sweet violets are blue.
Oh, I love you, Babe, like the dawn loves the dew.
I love you, Babe, like the dawn and the dew.
I'm bringing home roses and violets for you.
I'm bringing home roses, wood violets and dew.
Next page