Best Sachet Poems
I had seen - her calm, cool, composed - like a soft soothing breeze,
Though she could turn tempest or tornado or weakly wheeze;
Like a formless cherub in an endless garden of love,
She covered the earth while racing on cloud-Morgan above…!
Lovely you are! I said to her, Love's living conqueror!
Aren't you, yet, noisy nomad, gypsy, or mere wanderer?
I am vagrant sure, she said, and a tireless traveler,
I have jailed you, yet, in my sachet, like a prisoner…!
It was when I moved much away from the maddening crowd,
And when pondered over her bewildering words aloud;
Enlightenment dawned in me like the wisdom of Buddha,
Many great truths got revealed slowly like Brahma Chakra...!
True as very truth is my brief existence in the breath,
Who on this earth exists, devoid of her, from birth to death?
She murmurs, whispers, commands, demands, like Divine Spirit,
She creates! Destroys! Takes to zeniths! Grants highest merit…!
Soft, serene like nectar secreting in a rose flower,
She sleeps in; grows glows like a flower on a green bower;
Consciously conscious! Unconsciously unconscious! Solace!
Plows through the interiors, like Yacht through water, flawless…!
Shifting my state of mind, working like a leaven within,
Sleep, wake - like my mother - in feasting and fasting she's in;
She is the beginning! End! Center! Whole! Totality!
She is the starting and ends of the whole humanity…!
What an engulfing like a fiery inferno and smoke,
What an empowering and overpowering soul-stroke!
What a change, like unique bloom! Great is the life-giving breath!
What Calm! Peace! Tranquility! Bliss! Awesomely saving meth…!
With her, no stress! No strain! No phobia! No mania!
Her free-blow within free from frightening insomnia;
Abandoned to her eternally evolving Spirit,
Body and soul reach zenith beyond the mundane limit…!
Growing high, I gladly come to the realization,
That I'm part of the classic universal cognition;
Wherein my inner unity freely fondly extends,
And to the external eternal harmony, it tends...!
Knowingly? Unknowingly? Willingly? Unwillingly?
Breath has adopted me - calmly, cutely, and cautiously!
Has made me a flute, lute, melodious rhythmic consort,
I play on! I am played on! Till I reach restful retreat…!!!
16 September 2021
Categories:
sachet, life, love, mother, music,
Form:
Rhyme
We live in the perfume of our sweet love each day
Its scent adorns me with each sachet fragrant ray
Categories:
sachet, change, cry, death, deep,
Form:
Couplet
"A spoonful of fantasy is often the best medicine for reality." - Poet
Somedays I'm a pale apple wishing to be a tangerine.
Fantasy focused fulfillment fondles contentment dreams.
Enthrall me free amid emerald enthused energy,
wrapped snug-complete in scented sachet sheets -
let gleaming threads golden-gloss this glorious bed.
May lyrical lilacs air link, lift and softly dance while
harmony twists and peace dips to dazzle me.
I shiver, smile and sigh sensing the sheen of sky -
an ebony-onyx symphony sympathizing with me
and the ground, a gushing-grass generous scene.
Somedays I'm a pale apple wishing to be a tangerine.
Categories:
sachet, dream, emotions, endurance, fantasy,
Form:
Free verse
"Just living is not enough, said the butterfly fairy...one must have sunshine, freedom and a little flower" Hans Christian Anderson
She’s the Butterfly Princess of the magical valley of fairy Kings
I saw her dancing with her sisters in the enchanted forest glen
Her body of sweet nectar being sun kissed again and again
As she fluttered about on tiptoe with her gold gossamer wings
The woodland nymphs played a melody on lyrical harp strings
Her dress of ethereal light all a flutter with a hundred or more
Swooning butterflies who adorn her effervescent flowing caress
Golden curling tendrils resplendent in a sweet flower headdress
The iridescent undulation of swaying hips is their complete adore
Her gentle grace the epitome of butterflies wondrous folklore
They gathered all around her to lift her gown as she flew away
To her wedding that day, a Butterfly Prince was always her ecstasy
And their love was often said to be the kingdoms new destiny
Around his body he wore a gently woven honeysuckle flower lei
Amid his wings he had woven her gift of a lavender sachet
As the trumpets did herald the Princess on soft petals she came
All bowed to the glorious sight of their love soon to be bound
The next time you see butterflies in the garden, turnaround
You may see the fairy Prince and Princess in the sun all aflame
Swirling and twirling about in a butterfly dancing game
written: 10-3-2019
Writing Challenge, October -Butterfly- 2nd place
Sponsor, Dear Heart - Wiishkobi Ode Thank You so much!
Categories:
sachet, butterfly, fairy, fantasy,
Form:
Quintilla
Forgotten field of forever - I knew you once . . .
in daffodil days when I wandered in wisteria ways.
Sprightly I skipped and rarely tripped.
Hope really did spring eternal then
in the spring of my strawberry youth.
Dahlia daydreams drifted often like dandelion fluff
through the corridors of my mind - a mind not yet tainted by
taxing times inevitably to come as faster and faster
I would speed along my path of life.
Like a gamboling lamb, fresh, frisky and free-spirited,
I faced my own little fun and frivolous world.
Hardly was I heedful of the woes of those
forced to fight in foreign fields across the ocean,
in a nation where peace was hardly known.
In killing fields the most innocent of citizens
were pawns of a futile war. Such things did not enter
my pre-teen mind. I was but a child.
Sachet sweet were my springs
and sassy sassafras my summers.
In back-to-school autumnal afternoons
I fled home to fields of happy play,
never with a thought given to the heartache of mothers
whose soldier sons were lost to bullets or bombs.
I sleepwalked cluelessly through a decade of war
far removed from me as I played games of pretend
with equally clueless friends.
Blissfully we skipped our ropes and chattered merrily
like monkeys in the school yard.
So innocent was I then that barely can I bring back
those sun-filled daffodil days to my recollection.
In too short time, my grand little dreams of long ago
wafted upward to a cumulus of forgetfulness.
No more do I lay myself down in grass
to look up at diamond-studded skies
or drift into slumber with visions of the visages
of my juvenile crushes while cheesy 60’s love songs
linger softly on my radio. Those faraway times are
as forgotten as the lives that vanished in Nam.
They can only belong to the forgotten field of forever.
Categories:
sachet, childhood, war,
Form:
Free verse
MY FIVE SENSES
In my fifties I disavow the taste
but back in elementary school
the image would drift into daydreams —
pork kidneys with savory gravy
went well with the pucker of dills.
The fleabag oil of dog fur,
the weighted polish on nails,
and the brush of bangs on my forehead —
equally threatening.
Honeysuckle to a virgin’s pulse points,
like the aroma of heaven. Lavender seeds
sewn into a sachet. A long sniff,
the bag pressed to the tip of my nose.
My patrons walk into the library, eyes wandering,
lips gripped tight in thought, but with a proper hello
the curvature of their lips in upswing, eyes meet mine
and for a scintilla of time our hearts touch. Likewise —
the smiling eyes of children virtually untouched by experience.
Background sound unsettling, loud sounds deafening,
chomping, chewing — I run! Yet the good conversation
of friends at the table, at work, on vacation — I hug.
My five senses not always sensible, surely sensitive,
and poetic fodder — even in the negative sense.
7/25/2018
My Five Senses
Sponsor: Viv Wigley
Categories:
sachet, senses,
Form:
Free verse
Sea in a
Small pot;
Sun in a
Small dot…
Sky in a
Silhouette;
Stars in a
Sachet…
It's a stream;
It's a dream;
It's a treasure;
It's a pleasure…
Touch it once
You will feel as though
The Bible has
Taken another flow…
Words just seven
In a line;
Giving meanings
Many a million…
Meter minimum
Music many;
Murmuring of this
Makes melody…
Total Kural counts
One thousand and
Three hundred and
Thirty poems profound…
Tamil Holy Book
As it's known;
This is an ocean whose
Depth is still unknown…
(Thirukkural – verses of wisdom - written by an ancient Tamil poet, Thiruvalluvar, was composed between 450 to 500 CE)
Categories:
sachet, books, poems, poets,
Form:
Free verse
trees dilly-O sing.
mellow skies surmise —
they’re not quite blue, white nor gray.
knocking in front and back —
pileated woodpeckers, shockers
with crests, crafty
to home owls and bats,
like royal courts of yore
dillydally the enemy within
mine walls.
the oaks shade their eyes,
press into my panes,
scratch during a storm,
rain on my parade.
yet, I can’t help...but adore
the pines and oaks,
ivy that wraps serpentine around bark,
wild flowers ready to leap
on ballet toes,
touch my nose with romantic scent.
so Spring,
the sachet of hidden things,
like a freeze game come to life
with intrigue, potentiality
of pairings — doves, robins,
crows and the like.
what if i could climb the tall trunk
high, below the unseen clouds —
easy does it.
my hair sailing like a pirate.
my grin foolhardy.
my heart doesn’t know what it needs.
it needs trees.
2/27/2021
Categories:
sachet, bird, imagery, spring, tree,
Form:
Free verse
The Eiffel tower stands gaunt,
like a tall iron finger
whose shadow petitions God
for the right to scratch heaven.
My girl loves me to woo her
with polished charm and finesse,
and yet, tonight, it's my turn
to cash in on payments due.
A diamond cuts the glass
as I break into her rooms,
and her perfumed decadence
near makes me gag from the fumes.
Rifling her jewelry box
I find a small silk sachet,
whiffs of potpourri wafting
into the air at my touch.
I decide to pocket it,
and a smile crosses my lips,
a small, scented memento,
to remind me of this night.
(Blank Verse)
1/28/2016
Categories:
sachet, adventure, betrayal, feelings, french,
Form:
Blank verse
(Apologies to Rudyard Kipling)
If you can cope with no view of the trees but only sky
if you can navigate some toenail clippings floating by
if you can use duct tape to stop a wound from bleeding faster
because you're 90 million miles from the chemist for some plasters
if a flatulant spaceman's gasses reach your lungs and start to fill you
and you can't open a window for that very act would kill you
if you like the taste of potato processed like papier mache
and don't mind drinking real ale with a straw from out a sachet
if you know that the Rams are playing Man United with a full gate
but can't get the result for thirteen hours to celebrate
if when systems start to fail and all hope is gone
and you should have stayed inside the bar of the White Swan
if boldly going somewhere is your real idea of fun
then you deserve all credit, and you'll be a man, my son.
LLAP
Categories:
sachet, humor, space,
Form:
Light Verse
A Seasoning of Scent
Each season wears the scent of its own seasoning
A signature perfume – wafting spice that beckons
Awakening
When my memories come out of hiding shadows
For misty autumn Sunday mornings when a bouquet
Of frying bacon and brewing coffee play tag
To rush up the stairs to look for dreamers missed by the dawn;
Titillating the deep recesses of amnesia
With a sachet of floral elegance
Gathered up in spring days of sweet Daphne’s mood
As apple blossom aromas drift on vernal billowing -
A lilac scented ballet and spring rain on dry earth
Or linen sheets dried on the line –
Alluring incense of roasting turkey or simmering stewpots
Rushing through icy nights of early twilight
When falling leaves give up their essence -
Aromatic balm, fanned by cinnamon and nutmeg,
Flavoring ambrosial apples
In teasing allure of fresh cut pine and fir –
Bayberry candles drifting invitation
To frolic through captivating potpourris
Of holiday cookies from the oven
Teasing from waiting anticipation
The smell of new fallen snow
Or bergamot’s balm on a winter afternoon
When hot cocoa memories sashay through recollections
Embossed in flashbacks of new mown grass
For the boys of summer or watching clouds
Bathed in tones of copper – wet dogs and towels
Sending up a strong whiff of summer
Fanned by salt spray remnants, barbecue grills
And ozone’s thundering incense –
The anamneses of dark chocolate to entice a lover’s heart
Drawing me back into a sacred aura
Elusive, unidentifiable, beckoning me with bouquet of grace
From the eternal perfumery
3-25-21
Contest: Favorite Scents
Sponsor Chantelle Anne Cooke
Categories:
sachet, memory, seasons, senses,
Form:
Free verse
Restless is the evening's song,
so eager to release the throng
of scented jasmine's sweet sachet.
A first star takes my breath away...
while clouds pile high like pink parfait
with fringes gold in soft bouquets.
Two lonely spruces thrash and sway
in orchestrated breeze ballet,
while dappled in the shadow's play,
a weary earth turns shades of gray
My silhouette is growing long.....
as moonlight begs to come along.
_____________________
Now Entered in PD's Contest: Never Before in a Contest: #7
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Duo Rhyme Contest: Lovely invention of poems by Mary Port: Sponsored By Andrea Detrich
Categories:
sachet, nature, peace,
Form:
Rhyme
My garden is dressed in lavender lace.
Fragrant flowers blooming in sweet array.
Sprays of lilacs bring a smile to my face.
Delicate charmers, swaying with such grace,
lure hummingbirds and bees with their display.
My garden is dressed in lavender lace.
Butterfly wings enfold them in embrace.
A few branches make a lovely bouquet.
Sprays of lilacs bring a smile to my face.
Planted near my porch is the perfect place,
their scent will linger for many a day.
My garden is dressed in lavender lace.
Arranged with ivy in cut crystal vase,
they brighten the room, painted soft dove grey.
Sprays of lilacs bring a smile to my face.
When fresh blooms are needed I will replace
them with new spikes. The dried become sachet.
My garden is dressed in lavender lace.
Sprays of lilacs bring a smile to my face.
6/19/16
Villanelle me a flower or flowers contest
Categories:
sachet, flower,
Form:
Villanelle
An Impossible Dream (A Cry of a Truck Pusher)
The street is my home
It is where I belong
I know no love
So I make it not part of my daily vocabulary
One sachet of pure water
Enough to perform the magic
In cooling down the body
The small lotto kiosk is my sleeping place
My heart was filled with merry
The day she looked my way
I wish to dream a dream
Even if I lost my memory
Her beauty I will always remember
But we both belong to different worlds
I push and pick before the hand can go to the mouth
She is welcomed with smiles
With servants at her beck and call
What am I feeling?
Is it love?
But how can this be
Love is not love
I can only dream of her love
I can only visualise her embrace
I can only imagine her warmth and kisses
Oh! Allow me to dream a dream
I have long suffered on this street
For tomorrow may not be mine
Don’t blame me,
Maybe I have a slow faith
From her posture
I knew she were a creature
And it’s in her nature
To capture my heart
Oh! How I wish I were a preacher
To tell the world about the moisture in her love
Oh! How I wish I were a teacher
To lecture about how she will feature
In my future dreams.
But it is just an impossible dream
Because I am only a truck pusher.
Categories:
sachet, imagination, dream, dream,
Form:
Couplet
I've not, in truth, knowing the late Ms. Carolyn,
It might be owing I am quite late to come in;
It's when I know about her from you, dear masters,
And learn you've found in her love's true lasting treasures;
Wildfire of adore, I feel, burning in! Spreading!
As the feelings underwent by, you, tears-shedding!
=====
===
Understand, please, my forms are betraying me here,
I've forgotten all styles taught by you to endear!
See how the very thought of death makes me forget,
Each feeling I've been treasuring in my sachet!
=====
===
Sentiments that you've been sharing of her sweetly,
Indeed, you've been loving her forever fondly!
It's this makes my mad mind to tell you so sternly,
Death has succeeded in making you feel lowly!
=====
===
Carolyn is not dead! She's caravanning! Feel!
She's researching on grave and coffin, with great zeal!
When she's out, kindly, convey my wishes to her!
Ask her to compose me, rhyme on her study rare!
15 August 2021
Tributes to Carolyn Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
Categories:
sachet, death, poetess, tribute,
Form:
Rhyme