Best Petrichor Poems
music
reminds my soul
of peony and rose
efflorescence petrichor scents.
Roaming among fountains of her blossoms,
lost in bucolic elegance.
Whispering sweet sighs
like verses for
music
ash smoke
brought drops of doom.
Was it a mere mirage
or a brief dance with dalliance,
but this ephemeral epiphany,
just like nature's seasonal moods,
left lyrics on my lips,
until storms blew
ash smoke
Petrichor petals
float with departing zephyrs,
misplacing misunderstood messages,
whose true meanings are misinterpreted.
Mislaid memories
reflect on picture perfect puddles,
mentally memorising mistakes,
leaving behind a legacy of regret.
Painful passages
monopolise melancholic mind,
bittersweet swansong symphonies,
seduce soulful spirit into a sabbatical.
Pessimistic penitence
engraves on blank expression,
depicting disease, drifting to death,
nauseating numbness perpetually laments.
Silent One
Simple Musings
26 January 2018
"Petrichor "
Two minds
have made an entrance
magnetic bodies electric
minions babble
it’s just wasted white noise
sandpaper against back stories hit
The Wall of Wasted Time
He’s read most between the lines
He’s all hard hot and cool
unruffled piercing eagle eyes
forever on the hunt for willing prey
She’s incognito in disguise
seeking a challenge amongst
the spoilt and unsoiled
green-eyed fray
the two watch
in studied silence
like heat seeking missiles
they will find each other
poles apart
opposites
light and dark
fascinated
they are each other’s mark
the ozone is now charged
the crowd dissolves
invisible all their faces
unread their lips
unheard their madding mob words
whispered all graceless
passionless empty pages
time departs
the fuse is lit
Two minds’ eyes connect
both burning id reflect
the moment before they met
neurons travelling at lightning speed
through pulse to fingertips
reach out towards
each other’s mortal form
to touch the cerebral net
then later
find fingers reading skin
like braille and thirst
to drink from reigning lips
the moment before the
welcome storm hits hips
to taste the salt in
the cumulonimbus bursting
blue feral hollows
of their naked terraform
the Two minds
like absent gods
high and lost
in each other’s ocean
bent and tossed
live their story
tattooed at the place
where bodies leave clean sheets
and souls connect
electric bodies ignite
La Petite Mort
wave after wave
their drowning moans
ecstatically deplore
their final becalmed
silence approaching
the sweet mercy of
Petrichor
(LadyLabyrinth/2018)
https://youtu.be/5hFCZ1tzWR0
"Body Electric"/Del Ray
"I sing the body electric,
The armies of those I love engirth me and I engirth them,
They will not let me off till I go with them, respond to them,
And discorrupt them, and charge them full with the charge of the soul"
I Sing the Body Electric, Walt Whitman
(American Poet, May 31,1819 – March 26, 1892)
"The love of the body of man or woman balks account, the body itself balks account,
That of the male is perfect, and that of the female is perfect."
I Sing the Body Electric, Walt Whitman
The birdie whistled
A wet and wild song;
Damp feathers bristled.
Wild song, rain-scented;
Trills of petrichor,
With flapping, vented.
Petrichor afresh.
A hot steam, released.
Buds unfurl-refresh.
Released melody;
Shines sweet bluebird’s wings
In storm’s brevity.
Bluebird’s wings fluff bright,
As the sun billows,
At the beak’s delight.
Billows, of warm tweet
And zephyr, compete.
A choir of rainfall on soft stones
Bookmarked by wistful nature
Sweet melancholy shelved for
Another day in bed with a book
Yet he opens not only his heart
But windows and soulful founts
Pitter patter from musty pages
Chorus of dew mellowed to words
The roof leaks his wallet is empty
As the mind gathers metaphors
A lonesome apostrophe beckons
Dangles caresses cuddles a stanza
The poet has forsaken a world
Of power greed stark domination
Alludes to breaking their mould
Lavender scent creeps into verse
Sensual meaning drops off fragrances
Lights a passionate fire becomes one
With a precious deluge in anticipation
Precipitates tender longing of harmony
24th February 2020
the s e a
remembers the taste
of cinnamon sunsets~
the essence of
emerald embers
and resonances of petrichor
when the tides tremble
in turquoise delight,
amidst the marine snakes
slithering through
oceanic echoes,
mirroring Medusa melodies
in envious tones.
and as the morning
stars nestle in the
wildflower warmth
of the honeyed sun,
wine-red ink
flows within midnight
vines in vain,
aching to be heard,
while the jealous jasmines
jinx the sanguine spirit
of January garnets
I wear in
grace and gratitude.
yet if my sky knows
not the colors of darkness,
would the moon still
be my poetic savior?
silently sewing sequins of solace
to the fabric of love,
floating like cosmic candles,
elegantly emanating
perfumed perseverance
for I am the silhouette
of the horizon
wrapped in a plethora of
p e a c e lilies,
sprouting in the
glistening garden
of gossamer verses,
finding roseate reasons to rhyme,
when eclipsed
is the luna-light
and monsoon monsters
are the cynical spectators,
knocking on my canvas
with needles and nails
sharpened with
paper-thin confetti
of resentful remorse.
but I ponder,
will the blind still feel
the storms I breathe
and the strength I wear
to waltz through wicked weeds,
eager to chain unspoken needs?
this is me running from the toxic rain,
pushing me back into
the twilight zone,
where I surf
through nothingness,
engrossed in timeless trust,
tied to written tranquility,
manifesting magnetic waves
of inner truce and magic
as the sea remembers
the serenade of serenity
and the sky knows
the metaphors to merge
winds of love and
waves of kindness.
spooning atmosphere
dust off you, lilac
eyes with you again
and the water's tight
urges in your hair
rain's attaching
us cheek to cheek
we are the same
tears as flowers
forever
drops; though a
christened fall,
raincoat,
scented
song
My heart sings
with the drizzle
it swings
and wistle
sings oh drizzle!
the pitter patter and the long awaited cool
that bolt of light and the rumble
it is the heavens rule
lifting my spirit it makes me humble
wanting some more, no rule or rumble
the murky water and the ground lush
my eyes behold the nature green
dancing trees lingering beads, a wondrous mesh
the petrichor makes me swoon and keen
a keen urge to jot, to hearts content the minds glean.
©Nadiya (16 Jan '15)
The long drought’s dust daughters
lie writhing upon arid soil,
a scorching bed;
my tongue is heavy in my mouth
parched, longing for moisture;
my skin dry.
Dark clouds rise
along the whispering horizon
where storm breezes waken, bend and stir;
weary souls rush outdoors to wait,
eager for first drops.
The rain mantle thickens overhead;
the dust daughters rise and dance
to the drumbeat of the wind.
Ichor flows, dripping through cloud pores,
the scent penetrates, fresh and clean,
the odor of earth and rock permeates the air
tantalizing dry nostrils.
Faces turn upward
and drink in the fragrance of long awaited rain.
My feet follow my heart in happy rhythms,
a tattoo of joy written in fresh mud,
the lovely offspring of dust daughters and the deluge.
Copyright, August 11, 2016
Drops of rain begin welling up
Water particles suspended at a considerable altitude
Lighting crashes and my thoughts get loud
A black nimbus cloud with a splatter of gray matter
My voice is the thunder, and I project it
Indiscriminately
“Who wants some rain to quench their thirst?”
'Who wants a drop of rain on their tongue?”
The heat from the day will set me free
“Pale faces, gather your buckets!”
Hairs on arms slant upward in anticipation of my arrival
I soak the souls that are owed alleviation
With the wind as my catalyst, I cannot be stopped
Drops are formed as particles are spun
The first drip I cut loose falls free from fear
Of its lonely existence in the atmosphere
Petrichor is the scent produced when rain creates steam
Petrichor is the fluid that flows through the veins of God
Those who seek for the simplicity in minuscule things
Shall cherish the visits a drop of rain brings
Petrichor reminds me of you and me
When we were still in love
Wandering in Manhattan was what we used to be
Petrichor reminds me of you and me
Way back when we were still happy
You and I was all that we have
Petrichor reminds me of you and me
When we were still in love
I have many koalifications,
Numbed by gum leaves, stupefaction,
Glazed by arid summer drought,
Real hot today, there's no doubt,
What's this? Black storm clouds?
Who said clouds were allowed?
Now there's rain a'drenching,
Oh, it's stopped, not worth mentioning,
There's a eucalyptus petrichor,
I'll daze now, did it rain at all?
petrichor zephyr
instill aroma senses
in foggy friday
4-15-2016
we breathe the same air
but I'm not who you think i am
someone else is wearing my face
writing poems
in your sleep
over the mountain, the sun rises
lifting heavy eyelids of earth
it is morning, the dance begins,
the abalone night has fled with
beggars and thieves
the white lotus opens to reveal
the Buddha of Compassion
rising in a gown of crystal skin
i peel the onions and crack the eggs
straighten out the closet
in which we hide our dreams.
you go now, my love, we'll meet
again when the day ends and
I'll be the goddess on your tongue,
coiling to strike,
you are the poem I touch with a thousand
sighs,
let us begin to rain.
The night still sings with
The memory of rain; the air
Is drenched in the pungent
Scent of damp earth and
The grass is dripping with
Starlight like liquid silver...
The stars are raindrops caught
On the gossamer wisps of cloud,
Which hang across the sky like
Ribbons; like the ghosts of rainbows...
And I?- I am a ghost moving
Soft like a breath in the dark,
Trying to learn how to dance to
The sound of a Spring night
As the breeze tries to remember
The words to the song it used
To hum on lazy Summer evenings,
But only just recalling that it had
A melody like warmth...