Best Smelling Poems
What are we fussing about.
Is there any reason to be in doubt.
Are the bird's chirpping each morn.
"Do you not want blessing */* thru-the storm???"
What are we all fussing for.
Everything is smelling like roses.
And there is a package of Grace at
every believer's front door!!
"Be Grateful " from: Cheryl
Down on his hands and knees is Frump
But which end is his Rump!
Both ends are putting out so much hot air
To guess which, I wouldn’t dare
Making his stink smell good is an art.
But not hard to do when your audience isn’t smart
He changes ends so fast and well
From which end it comes, is hard to tell
To put your head in a daze
He puts it out from both ends to create a haze
If he gets caught for what he did
He passes the buck or tells a fib
If it smells bad or goes the wrong way
It was done by the Democrats, he will say
I hear all his raves and rants
Go home and change your pants
When he’s pinned down he turns on the bull
Just wait, the FBI will see whose diaper is full
2/28/2018
The smiling loch gives a welcome
Along with the vigorous pine,
Time to recharge the soul
And smell the coffee on the Isle of Skye.
Misty mountains of mystery
Are a drug with a natural high,
And offer more to discover
Sipping coffee on the Isle of Skye.
The landscape changes each minute
As clouds give way to the shine,
As the sun whispers the invite
Smell the coffee on the Isle of Skye.
White washed homes contrast colour
Of illuminous mountain sides,
That greet the Cali ferries,
And bring life to the Isle of Skye.
You can almost touch the mountains
As you're touched by the Western Isles,
Three dimensions experienced, while
Sipping coffee on the Isle of Skye.
But the likeness of God in nature
Stirs the fourth dimension inside,
Marries the natural and spiritual, while
Smelling the coffee on the Isle of Skye.
Chaos theory must answer
To the Western Island design,
A place too wonderful for me
While smelling coffee on the Isle of Skye.
The Gaelic heart of Scotland
Melts into the core of mine,
As the wide-eyed little boy
Smells the coffee on the Isle of Sky.
Going to work is more like play
I’m cruising on my new Segway
A flower is still in bloom
As the summer exiting soon
And, the sweet smell is tempting
But, soon it will lie down
To give way to a sprouting bud
Then butterflies keep hovering
Of differing beauty of the future
Obliviously, time may have walked so fast
And, the bud reinvigorated
Later to spread out her exotic petals
Flower, you are endowed not abandoned.
Hello, Skeptical Mind Controlled
I dance in the pale moon light
under the devils nine delights
he watch's me play without a care
under the technical deceit of mind bending needled wear
You many be a skeptic
so the devil laughs
but he will put your blind at easy
no need, to pay (PRAY) to God
you have already prayed (PAYED) to me
without your consent
i have place a many of agents
to pump your den with many unscented things
called incapacitating agents
OH! do not think i do this just for fun
this physiological warfare
is a means, to a money making end
to which your hole (WHOLE) family
can join the hell on in
you look so at peace when, your at sleep
and my minions sing chloroformed lyrics to your many of dreams
then your heart is mind (MINE) and i control you
so what the first thing i will make you do!
Petrified pottery ponders plots. Ploys play putting purring. And a frantically fraternising pickle arch can glow on many a skyline at dusk. In many hues. Many dusks many arches many hues and many hues mean many hundreds and many hundreds mean invite to investment of innermost inherited insectivorous institutionalised ignorant ignoramus's ingots'. But glowing of an ear bug is common in a torque typed torture chamber and a chamber is not a champion nor a charred crispy cross crossed conifer. Camels that eat hard cheese are said to be better prophets than penguins on skateboards. Fornicating false frocks falsely fall. And a little black and grey horse was speaking kindly to a tiny ball of fur which turned out to be a mouse name but cat in shape and body. How rather cruel! And derogatory too. Yet the smirking slug like actions secreting slime of a prawn headed monster with many man tentacles' and tentacles are terror and definitely not treacle treading treats. Salivate not a big bit of pie then? Fir pie is a composition of sorts types and kinds and akin to a pulsating ball of confused idiosyncratic ideological wisdom of orders originating from a glass bottom jug which weighs forty two kilos and cost eleven cities, two million towns, twenty thousand small villages, and ten hamlets. These are in a deposit global zone. A whirl of supposed suppository suppers in stupors seen but senseless. It is wise to break a mould then to create a new work for the art show shower. And bathe before baking the perimeter of pie. For pie without radius is a ravishing radish reaching radii. And how polite is a polish then? No ha no x and a big x to it as well. And one should always dangle mirrored glasses while wearing a sun hat and riding a one centimetre bull down the tidal bores. Z refurbishment z at two hens to twenty one ducks at half time. Z
Not every day do I smell like poo
But my aroma is like my shoe
Completely bad
I’m feeling sad
Don’t get too close to me would you
Russell Sivey
I want to be the girl smelling flowers
Breathing them in and dreaming
Both our faces up-turned
Sun-soaking and beaming
To be the girl with shoulders like feathers
Bright eyes, a song on my tongue
A dance on my hip as I travel
Fresh air polluting my lungs
They'll be tucked in my hair, my blooms
When I become this girl I admire
I'll carry the sun as a crown
and pollinate the world with my fire
I want to be the girl smelling flowers
With only the sweetness to consider
Her heart filled with weightless clouds
Floating about within her
To be the girl with dew soaked ankles
From my walk on the morning's sighs
The girl with nectar in her veins
And the Milky Way in her eyes
Could be she's just a wish away
This girl I wish to be
Could be she's somewhere in a bud
Growing from a tree
One day, she'll walk along the path
With the flowers through the mist
Meeting with the lily pads
For their early evening tryst
One day, she'll misplace minutes
And idly lose her hours
Rescued from too much wishing,
I'll be the girl smelling flowers
Jessica Highstreet
10/14/15
My cuffs gather the dusk’s dirt,
I wait alongside Albert’s dog;
The sentry of the rain stares at me
Like I was a resident of the bog.
I have a murderer beside me,
She’s sitting with quite a sad look;
“Ants ants they are everywhere!”
I wonder why she wrote that in her book.
Belinda waits for me in a gutter,
She wants me to bring her flowers,
But rubbing my back against a wall,
I throw her obsolete coins.
In a palace of glass, I drink
Wine and medicine with ice;
In a palace of cloud, I sunder
Like Salvador at his funeral’s brink.
William worries o’er me a lot,
He is afraid of my carelessness,
He writes on melting air with lots of thought,
“When wilt thou return again?”
The gems, the drugs, the pages,
All wait for me in groups of wrongs;
Yet, here I am, silently smelling
Of antiseptic and incomplete songs.
-Pin Dew (01/05/2017)
Wearing Great Smelling Deodorant
From Trump each and every word
We heard from him was totally absurd
After hearing him came to conclusion
Was optical illusion in mental institution.
With what he wore would try to impress
And also occasionally he tried to abscess
Worldly woman he wanted to have been
But in female bathroom didn't let him in.
What did it take to be an Olympic winner
On Wheaties box by name of Bruce Jenner
Who was playing a role about his anonymity
Wanting to be Jane who was a cute calamity.
I did determined that things may not differ
When I was being a good wiffer of her
Made no difference where he or she went
Were distinguished by desirable deodorant.
James Thesarious Hilarious Horn
Retired Veteran and Poet
I AM Walking Smelling the Fragrant Flowers
I WALK THROUGH GARDENS
FILLED WITH LILAC, JAZMINE ROSE
LAVEN HYACINTH
HONEYSUCK LILIES
SMELLS SO FRAGANT THE BLOSSUMS
MOCK-ORANGE FREESAS
MORN GLORY YLANGS
TUBEROSE HELOTROPE AND
LOB MARITIMAN
1/26/18
by James Edward Lee Sr.
If bathtubs grew onions
then feet might have bunions
that stink as well as get sore
If you can't remove all the dirt
your toes will sure hurt ~
that your husband
will ignore as he snores
Grateful to God* for deliverance from anosmia
I praise Him for the pleasant breath of life
midst jubilant smelling optimization
oozing with wondrous delights...
On a restful day of redolent vibrancy, my nose is greeted
by minty scent of my special child's shampoo
with citrus body wash along bubble gum-cologne
and refreshing baby powder after his bathing spree...
Oh, I enjoy the aroma of steamed breakfast rice
sizzling barbecue, creamy chicken-vegetable soup
with mango yoghurt while allowing hot chocolate
to blend with the smell of toasted bun midst peanut butter.
Concluding my morning festive flavorsome meal
my olfactory sense is welcomed by serene balmy room
verily therapeutic as I immerse for writing pursuits
gripped with the lavender fragrance of my own perfume.
*In every thing give thanks: for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you.
September 12, 2023
2nd place, "Five Senses (Smelling Emphasis)" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Sotto Poet; judged on 9/13/2023
As fate hangs
in a precarious equilibrium
and a mammoth iceberg
of uncertainty crumbles
into the sea
As quiet moments start to rattle
like angry thunder and the
maddening world plunges
head-first into a bottomless pit
of existential chaos...
as the populace wrestle with stress
engendered by a plethora of unmet
obligations and expectations
in the midst of all the hustle
and bustle of everyday life...
as world leaders vie for hegemony;
as wars are fought on far-flung battlefields
or in our ship of state over human rights,
ideals, political control, and so on,
I search for my peace of mind...
in soothing "me-time" relaxation
I take time to breathe and reflect fondly
in solitude, unfettered by the troubles
of the day, or simply be out
in the open air, counting my blessings...
as I smell life's roses.
BRIAN'S CHOICE 4,any form,any theme poetry contest(Winner: 2nd Place)
Sponsored by Brian Strand
Date submiited: 05/05/2020
Screwed XIX Poetry Contest
Sponsored by rob carmack (Winner: 6th Place)
Date written and posted: 12/16/2018