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ABOVE THE FUCHSIA COLORED CITY
IS A FRENCH ROSE COLORED SKY,
COLORED AS ANOTHER NAME
OTHER THAN THE CLOUDS OF WHITE
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?
MicMag Jul 2018
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.
Kitana St Cyr Jun 2018
The smell of my fluids excites me
I wait for the day it won’t be from just my fingers,
But on your nose too.

Before I run my hand softly across your face,
Make you wonder wild,
How is my natural scent is so purposefully designed to attract YOU ?

Allow me to make you live for memories before they’re created
And of this one in particular,
My scent
The scent that calls for white wine kids
Let me refresh your neurons.
-your sence of smell
-olfactory sensory neurons
-found in a small patch of tissue high inside the nose
-connected directly to the brain
Michael Solc Sep 2014
An autumn 
sunbeam on
the edge of my
childhood bed,
curled up with my
softly purring cat
nestled by my side. 
Two unlike creatures,
brought together in warmth.
Donall Dempsey Feb 2016
THE SMELL OF PURPLE

She says she can smell yellow.

She says she can smell blue.

despite, not being able to
spell either colour.

“Yellow smells the same as blue.”

“...like a wet kitty drying by the fire.”

“Red smells like
Mummy when she kisses.

Her kisses smell different
when she kisses you...

...then she smells like flames
with little orange tips!

Purple is my favourite smell...
...it smells just like a magic spell!”

I kiss her goodnight
like violet (only lighter)

with little flecks of purple
scattered here & there.
pitch black god8 Dec 2018
I.      the smell of sad

odorless colorless like *****, similar familiar sidewinder effects,
musty invasive, it has no specificity, no locale centrale, well closeted,
saddling sadding, in place, plain sighted better to toy our lives,
pervades persists, worse lingers, impervious to sprays
and even everyone’s good literature (even Will S’s),
good wishes good intentions and mood prayers
to the nearest lay god
on duty at the spiritual emergency room on weekends,
still stink

don’t think that this poem is for you; solely for the writer,
your doppelgänger ******, your mirror’s inside hiding out place,
I,
who has your sadness smell into my skin cells creepily crept
waft woof and warp wet weft-woven
into the sad receptacles hidden in my
head’s cubbies and the palms of my tree hands-covering face

there are cures so wonderful and inexpensive but unavailable
at the local Rite Aid, though they are the right aid recoverable,
so closer than close, so close that the internist
cannot prescribe them because he must inject himself first
because the live bacteria in the antidote can **** all

this odor lays down bamboo-strong roots;
to eradicate you must dig down deep,
six feet perhaps more, with heavy earth moving equipment,
uproot at the source, follow sad always all-the-way down and the root
great god gone,
but the saddest truth
stench odor yet present
first I smell myself.

the deep bass tonality of my musk,
hot, creamy, sweetness unique, of coffee and creamy,
my owned sweat oiled secretions massaged into her skin
emplaced by vigorous parts rubbing and tongue caressing,
under the fading shadows of my glancing, desirous admirings


then I smell herself.

sinking sunset glimpses of last nights parfume parfait,
scattered in random strategic locations architecturally planned,
some flavors come over me like modest waves,
others spelunking found in crevices, cracks and caves,
where humans tread in guileless search of guiltless pleasure

then I smell our sharings.

lemon and thyme, paprika, sea salt and pepper,
a basted rub laid upon animal skin consuming, and consumed,
the vinaigrette balsamic and California yellow raisins, pine nuts,
decorating leaves of red soil spinach and spicy arugula,
word salads, so miraculously ingenious, you swear off eating flesh

then I smell our combinations.

the air conditioned atmosphere that blends us properly chilled,
the olive oils pressed from two colored differing skins,
the mortal and pestle finely grinding our own fresh crumbled dirt,
appearing in places where dirt is wet panko crumbs encrusting us,
our combined liquidity, shaken and stirred, drying in martini tandem

it is 8:17am and this recipe of reciprocity,
at its most pungent peaking,
for soon raining waterfalls of potable city water
and the sophistry of French soap,
the pseudoscience of modern chemical shampoo,
together erasing, scrubbing away this poems aromatherapy tapestry,
your perplexed complexing nostrils will mock you once more,
for ever disbelieving, thinking you could no longer write of
only love poetry that crested high above the trite


Friday, March 29 2019
Aroma olp musk balsamic paprika sea salt ***** martini olp
KiraLili Sep 2016
Down
Dirt
Roads
We
Walk
Clattering
Fallen
Maple
Leaves
Pungent
From
The
Days
Heat
As
Noses
Fill
With
The
Smell
Of
Fall
Day hike #fall
the moon light above your skin
your edges moving
making my head spin
the taste
the smell
all new
but felt so familiar
like I've been there before
your body
floating
your hair between my fingers
you touch everything so blue
darling,
but my body
is crimson like fire

[and my eyes turned black like I'd known all your secrets]
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!
Eryri Sep 2018
Thank you for the memories,
The unexpected, sudden hits of nostalgia
Taking me back to carefree days
Of playing football after a summer rainstorm,
Of laughing in woodwork class,
Of my grandmother's awesome cakes.

Like time travel on the cheap,
You weather away the years,
And the strata of cynicism and regret,
Momentarily eroding my reality,
Revealing the manchild at my core,
Allowing him the briefest chance to once again explore.

But these are unpredictable reveries,
Three dimensional snatches of memories.
It's time they developed some kind of smell recorder,
Just like sights and sounds can be held for posterity.
But such technology would not compare to my physiological wonder;
Magically transforming scent into vivid memories.
sidra Apr 9
I lose myself in a memory of scents.

cigarettes and Chanel
spices and Spring

I lose myself in nostalgic fragments.
s.alixir
Kara Jean May 2016
Tightly forcing her body against the clay
Scraping her tarnished skin, on its unforgiving stones
Determined
Unhinged, narrow thought became disturbed
Intention, soaking the soils energy
Becoming one with nature
Persuit, rapid decaying
No trail of life
Evidence faded
Secluded mountain peak
30 miles in, her only goal accomplished
Her pocket knife she holds over head
Pretending to cut the fluffy clouds in half
One fast Stab
She lays in her vanishing grave
Kara Jean Apr 2016
Propped up I see the the lush green thirsty grass
Confusing and pretty
I feel its needs
To want to be nourished
Always to be trotted on
No reasoning for our disrespect
Yet never disrupted  
Disaster we love
Sleepz Feb 2018
There was once two,
that cared about each other.
They were happily together so long,
it was unimagined that anything could go wrong.

When he saw her,
with her beautiful blond hair,
that coiled around his fingers anytime he felt it.
Her sweet chocolate eyes that stared
and pierced through what pumped his blood
to keep him there.

Her sweet voice attracted him like a honey bee to a flower,
soft, like the ocean waves.
A sound you could fall asleep to,
but wouldn't because you'd never get bored.

The taste of her lips unique,
He loved to kiss her cheek.
When they hugged and he bowed his head over her shoulder,
he felt his cheek pressed against her clavicle,
wondering if she felt the discomfort of bone against bone.

He could smell her perfume, especially on dates.
But nothing could smell better to him than her natural scent;
Freshly showered every morning,
coffee on the table waiting,
setting the expectation that today will be a great day.

He leaves to work,
believing when he returns she'd be there.
At the same time,
nothing makes him more sad,
than knowing she is allowed to leave forever.
yet, more beautiful than a dove in a cage,
is the one that is always free.
MJL Mar 7
Dawn
The routine
Awake to a standing pause
Before the wheel turns again
Beans break the seal
The fresh start of a new day
Slowly grinding into movement
This disturbance is accepted
Its purpose is measured
Against the quiet peace
Deep berry-breathing oils the wheel
Pale orange rays soothe the stiffness
Inhale everything
While milled dewdrops drip comfort
Share a moment with an old friend
You
No words needed
Just a pause between turns


© 2019 MJL
I love the quiet coffee time early, before the day begins. Either alone with with my love, just a pause before the new day begins. Time for introspection.
Your cologne is on my shelf
So at least I don’t have to miss your smell
French rose Aug 2018
You smell like love
The scent of arousal with a hint of lust
Desire of an unknown perfume

You taste like ***  
A taste that will last forever
The flavor fresh when my face slipped inbetween your legs

You felt so wet but was as sweet as honey
My hand feeling every inch of your body
Fingered inbetween your virginity

You sound like heaven
Your whining intoxicating like poison
Your voice seductive as it gets

You felt swift as you showed me the woman in you
Riding your hips gliding without hesitation
You felt innocent and naive as I guided your hips

You loved the taste of me thrusting into you
Crying out my name your face filled with pleasure and lust
You love the flavor of me going further than before

You drowned in my attention relished it
Hungered for it you were lit up by my infatuation
You felt a hot spark and electric energy that sent tingles to the very center of you

You just made love my dear
Steve Page Sep 18
I sit with you, mutually leaning comfortably as we tremble on the sofa with Adam ******* filling our evening with laughter and I breath in your aroma - that bouquet of shampoo that you prefer to all the other scents offered in the ad breaks.

I'm no good at remembering brands or labels and your bottle of choice doesn't appear on the screen anymore in any case, but I know the smell of you fresh from the shower,

and you fill my head with happiness.
Saw a shampoo advert and thought of this.
Jasmine dryer Dec 2018
the smell of mint fills the air
brother is here
been gone for a year
mother is crying
hugs are shared

kids opening gifts
smiling
the sound of they're laughter is bliss
as mother gives the youngest a little kiss

sitting around the fire
were all together
with the smell of mint
cold and sweet in the air
Planejane2 May 19
I’m sensitive to scents
Because they always drop hints
On where the hell you been or
Where you’re going

I’m sensitive to scents
Because I’ve never smelled that scent
It’s like you got a new love interest.
Where the hell you going?
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