Poems based on Favorite Smell
A whimsy whiff takes me back
to the good timesó
tugging the pink zipper
of my first purse,†
its shiny new plastic
shrinking my worries
like a popsicle on blackened asphalt.
A momentary smell,
a plastic shovel cracking†
scooping the sand, dirt, and rocks,†
building a palace for a princess,†
forgetting the world outside my sandbox.
One fleeting scent
and Iím twisting the perfect plastic limbs,
tangling the perfect plastic hair,
living my Barbie doll perfect life.
One breath in,
and I rememberÖ
I was happy thenó
back when plastic was enough.
A floating scent hovers around the swing,
carried on a cherry-almond breeze.
I inhale memories of grandmaís hugs--
being held in the crook of her arms,
suffocating in her powerful fragrance.
Just as quickly, the memory fades.
Yet, here she is rocking on the swing,
me snuggled into her side
enveloped in her petite embrace
that smells of cherry-almond.
Comforting warmth blows through the trees.
We all sit around in the swing,
on the grass, and in hard plastic chairs
that feel like recliners.
Getting back to our roots,
we eat with God-given utensils.
The watermelon juice and seeds
are everywhere, including the air.
The entire family gathers
for this one, rare snack.
The annual occasion that gathers all cousins
takes me back to a simpler time.
This tow-headed, roan man
is hated by many who
swill his strong personality†
too hastily and superficially.†
Hating what they have not
yet learned to appreciate--
his bitter flavor, not sweetened past perfection.
Loving their acquired
desire of soothing taste--
his blissful essence, not intoxicated past pleasure.
This joe is diverse,
measured in a cupÖ †
Either crŤmed or black.
A dizzying sensation
a cascade of scents
warm and earthy
dark and seductive
rich and powerful
a forbidden love
a walk on the dark side
swaying in the wind
offer a captivating fog
a crushing wave
never to be forgotten
--- S Guillaume
A deep lust.
A sweet temptation presented in squares,
soft and rich and filled with goodness,
a fresh batch from the stove, waiting for me to taste.†
With a knife, I sink in to satisfy
the longing want and need for the moist,
the warm, the soft, melted appearance.
Tears run, escaping as the fragrance fills the air.
Knowing that each bite is filled with sweet ecstasy,
each bite followed by the laughter and joy of siblings.
The smell, the dessert of royalty and seduction,
a pair of black queens enjoy pleasurably.
Each taste fills my nostrils,
awakens my sleeping taste buds.
I am home at last, floating in the clouds.
enjoying a day of rest, relaxation, and pampering.
a heaven-sent trip
My sweet Desires
Like a thick cloud
spreading from the fryiní pan,
the enticing spices
allure the family who wait
until twistering out of control,
dishes dropping, water pouring,
shells blustering in a feeding frenzy,
fixinís pounding the table like hail.
Like the manna-eaters who wanted meat
and didnít appreciate the guiding cloud,
the family wanted tacos
and didnít see God there either.
So knowing the unholy mess
wonít last Ďtil morning,
the family gorges their way
to the land of milk and tacos.
-- A Fulton
The Smell of Home
The smell of home is like no other
From the moment you walk in the front door
the smell hits and brings back the memories
of the many good memories you have experienced
It will bring back the memories of birthday parties
and smell of barbeque
and beer during a Super Bowl party
The smell of home-baked cookies and pie
Golden-topped hills rise in the distance
Warmth permeates their being
Buttery rays grace their crowns
Melting with flowers purple and red
Becoming one with the hills
Gets me out of bed in the morning
As I slumber dreaming of fat and blubber,
the most beautiful thing happens,
I awake to find my nose taking a dive
in the sweet delight of a smoky kitchen.
Itís not just any smoke.
It is the type of carbon monoxide that kills you sweetly.
Itís the sweet aroma of pancakes smothered in butter
and topped with white eggs and bacon.
So overwhelmed with the scent of all that bacon,
I search for the need of fulfillment.
My senses all awake now
and my mind beats heavily on my heart
I need the sense thrilling
the stomach filling
and the sweet release of pancakes, eggs and bacon
Like fluffy clouds laying next to over-easy sunshines
with strips of burnt rainbows,
I suddenly feel impregnated with longing symptoms.
Itís the smell that has me intoxicated.
Itís the taste that has my mind running wild.
Itís the seeing of such a beauty that has me mesmerized.
Itís the sound of its creation that has me excited.
And to touch seems sinful enough.
Itís a mixture of a need
I got to have,
Itís an addiction
and I am an addict for pancakes, eggs, and bacon.
the arm around my shoulders
is my love††††† he is my love
the fold is open and
the scent makes my nose tingle
my life is warm now
I feel whole and pure
the comfort of old
the spice of new
it is uncontrollable
designed to keep dry
bust moist still
designed to end foul
as the embrace ends
my being longs for spice;
fragrance that reach
into my soul and
bring memories and emotions
feel the cool breeze
for all the senses
of mind body soulólove
--- J Potts
Russian Olive Tree
Soft silver, green leaves cover her head.
Her hair is caressed by the sunís long fingers.
Her arms are too old now to birth blossoms.
Her clean, cool, earthy perfume
captures the attention of all.
Her rough skin scared and torn by abusive winds,
is now concealed under mossy brown.
Her legs, folded, lead down to her feet
covered by soft blankets of velvety green.
When I was younger,
she cradled me in her graceful branches.
Today, we sit in silence.
Now only her fragrance
comforts my saddened soul,
as two lives near their end.
Tired and warn out
My body sits in a car
The snow continues to fall
Traffic moves like a turtle
I peel a juicy orange
A citrus blast travels through car
Delivering a scent of happiness
Stress begins to lessen
Smell comforts one body and head
Hiding the frustration and pain
No more care about traffic
For a moment stress is forgotten
The snows will continue
As the smell goes away
The moment of happiness has passed
And this cold and gloomy day
They cut my green hair,
shave off my base,
skin my prickly
my ripe yellow flesh.
Piece by piece,
my person.† Crying
all over my murderer, I know
that all I once was,
is now gone,
†trashed to the core.
Through open mouths,
I make my way to my final resting place.
Merciless, they delight in my intoxicating
nectar, inhaled as I am consumed.
The rectangular marbled-red chest
sits in morningís golden light
the wedding dress
the coffin flag of a lost brother
drying the eyes
closing the lid
One morning I wake
and find the sun beaming
through broken clouds
leaving the air fresh
The scent of spring flowers
glides along the breeze
bringing happy memories and
leaving many smiles and laughter
Yesterdayís problems vanish
leaving lessons of courage
and filling me with strength
to make it through the day
The pain still exists
calling from the back of my mind,
but, ignoring this,
I move forward