Best Sweet Smelling Poems
The mean old housecat has bulgy eyes
when she looks at us in our fish bowl
Oh, how much we've come to despise
that big mouth of hers, the black hole
Poised to pounce with sharpened claws
She's taking jabs with hatred brimming
that ugly feline beast with drooling jaws
for us little fishes, innocently swimming
Our little bowl is cosy, room for only two
bad kitty on the outside, always looking in
If her paw ever grabs us, what are we to do
we’d be much safer in a smelly sardine tin!
If she ever catches us, we’ve got big troubles
perhaps in her dreams she sees us as fat trout
In fear we produced a stream of gassy bubbles
If only our owner would give bad kitty a clout!
All the chaos made us soil ourselves with poop
so we let that mean old cat feast on a tasty treat
When her nasty tongue slurped intestinal goop
the beast screeched in horror! Revenge is sweet!
Our owner came home and cleaned out the bowl
Soon we returned to our safe sweet smelling home
Kitty got banned but can see us through the keyhole
Now we don’t suffer from irritable bowl syndrome!
I saw her sitting in a wheel chair,
crippled, mute and almost hairless,
over pumped with chemotherapy,
and aged more than she really was.
Yet I prefer to remember the one date
we had a long, long time ago.
Oh how she laughed that day
as we swam in a lonely bay,
stumbling on the wet sand,
tumbling and turning, the white grit
covering our bodies, infiltrating our suits.
Finally we jumped into the sea, dived down
to bathe amongst sea horses and anemones,
and kiss beneath the shimmering surface of the sea.
Later that night we danced to soft music,
gorged on the sweet smelling bar-b-q piglet,
and drank homemade sweet wine.
Not for you, my mother said, and I was mad.
But mum was right. Soon my date married,
had four delightful girls, till she escaped with them
and with a rich man to another place, another state,
until ill fate struck. And seeing her thus disabled,
tears welled in my eyes, not only for what she had become,
but most of all, for what she could have been.
Alas I will never forget…..
#3~"Lost not forgotten"
"A solitary star had gone astray, yawning before the dark,
hiding; straight ward, waver the wink of light, slowly fading.
By my window I shed a tear; I farm the fields of my soul."
#2~"Down-under"
"Above the winter masses, buried, I wait for the sun.
Sweet smelling kitchen, the hunger rise, within, my tongue swings...
Rise away from the table... noisily I yell for my bike."
#3~"Dreaming with the God's"
"Downhill of Mount Olympus, everything felt real.
In the orchard of my dreams, I am structured as a statue.
Mr. Sandman made a fool, of my midnight summer dream."
~SKAT~
SIJO contest.
Take it easy on me, i'm a SIJO -Virgin-
Yesterday I dreamed a dream,
that had no end.
You in your white gown, and long, black hair flowing.
You were calling my name.
I heard you, but I couldn't reach you!
And when I say your soul was tainted.
You went out in the night life.
You dressed in your black, evening ball gown.
You danced till the Red Sun came out, over the horizon.
You smiled at me.
A flame in my heart burned red hot!
My knees and hands shook with nerves;
Nerves of love and joy.
I blew you a kiss,
but you turned away!
Oh, please don't turn away from me,
for I would die, if it happened again!
Your beautiful and golden heart showed me the truth.
The truth that every gentleman wants to hear.
I've seen you walk the streets,
in the blue dawn of August.
As I followed you, you stopped and looked at me.
You smiled so beautifully, and my heart fluttered into oblivion!
You walked with your friends and I went my way.
I couldn't find a single trace of you that day.
I cried out "Why did I leave her like this?!"
I looked for you, all over the courtyards and town squares!
Yet no sight of your beauty.
... No sight of your golden heart, that I hold so dear to mine.
Where did you go?
Why did you leave?
Why did I leave... that is the question!
I should have stayed by your side,
till the ends of time.
Yet I had left.
Why...?
One gloomy and parish midnight.
I came along a road,
and soon found myself in front of a wayward cafe.
Smiling faces all around me.
I spotted a beautiful face that outstood all the other faces around me.
It was yours.
Your face brought me to sanity and I went over too you!
You spotted me and tried to run!
I caught you in the dirty hallway and pulled you in.
Our eyes met and I fell in love once again.
Sanity re-entered my mind, body and soul.
I kissed you and you kissed back.
You held my hand, and we left the cafe and walked down the street.
The street was gloomy, yet we together brightened the dark street.
We went back to the lit up city streets, of the lands filled with smiling faces,
and we fell in love and slept together.
You lay there in my restless arms and I gave you a sweet kiss,
upon your sweet and soft head.
Your dark hair was sweet smelling and felt of silk.
I closed my eyes and fell asleep with you,
there in my arms and we dreamed together
till the morning came and woke me up,
and took you away from my weak and weary arms.
I dreamed a dream of you.
They are laughing like naughty children calling out
As they run through the sweet smelling heather
Watching for a gnarled tree trunk to sit and rest about
Looking up into the sky they're wondering whether
The clouds will break and fine rain will fall
Nothing could mar this moment of joy of being together
They sit close arms entwined shining eyes showing all
The love they have kept hidden all this while
Life has been tough apart as they waited for this call
No more do they need a watch, time is no longer a trial
Together for always, kisses exchanged, love songs sung
Touching her sweet smelling hair he whispers with a smile
The years have not aged us as we waited for this moment we are forever young
As I wandered alone without a task
All around me wild flowers sprang forth
My face a sad contorted mask
Of emotionless strife since birth
My eyelids closed against the day
Enjoying the fall of darkness on my Earth
The sun tried to spread its ray
The sweet smelling fruit kissed my head
As beneath the mighty mango tree I lay
The deep red scars on my heart fled
When a strange melody on my fancy grew
And the balm of stillness on my limbs spread
An unknown peace I soon knew
When the leaves danced with the breeze
The shadows of my life I threw
The butterflies and the bees
On me did comfort heap
That amazingly I found under this tree
My shallow life and forgotten sleep
This wilderness made new
With pleasure my heart started to weep
The grave cares now seemed so few
My life found a new definition
And into the azure sky my soul flew
Spring has earned a special place in my heart:
a season so fair,
She dispels despair.
And I anxiously wait for Spring to start;
for craving her touch,
I miss Her so much.
I long for the sensual perfume She'll wear;
a blend of sweet-smelling flowers and fresh air.
She taught my heart to sing.
At this time, Spring is no more than a wish:
no reason to cheer,
She is not yet here.
But She's such a tempting, delicious dish,
I can hardly wait:
and circling the date
on my calendar: I'm counting down the days.
Whiling away the hours in a thousand ways;
She taught my heart to sing.
Winter winds are finally in full flight
as snows melt away;
Spring is sure to stay.
As sunlight stretches Day and shortens Night
ice-free rivers flow,
while Daffodils show.
Nature dabbles the landscape in tints of green:
while the air's invigorating, fresh, and clean,
and tweeting songbirds, add music to the scene.
She taught my heart to sing;
I love that about Spring.
Most of us play, our lives like a game
Both ends of our candle, consumed by the flame
Choosing a curtain, buying a vowel
Planning tomorrow, forsaking the now
In days gone by, not so long ago
We were dreaming of spring, through icy windows
Fields of green clover, budding trees and daffodils
Cooling homemade cobblers, on open window sills
Walking barefoot in the yard, after warm morning showers
Lost in our daydreams of sweet smelling flowers
Now June awaits, with anticipating brides
Spring has sprung, as we hear distant tides
Our minds look ahead, to tropical destinations
Free time with loved ones, on family vacations
Camping, hiking, perhaps water skiing
Traveling far away, for some casual sight seeing
While we're relaxing, with minds elsewhere
Spending today, on tomorrow's big dare
In the hot summer sun, we'll think of the snow
Taking for granted, the time that we blow
For Americans, tomorrow is Memorial Day
Religious or not, we should all stop and pray
For all the people, who gave their lives
At home and abroad, for their sacrifice
Fighting and dying, for the time that we waste
Ask God to love them and show them His grace
Pray for their families, for the love they lost
Paying the price, with the ultimate cost
Think of the fallen, lost in their prime
Be thankful for them and keep them in mind
an original poem by the "Poemdog" Daniel Turner
Is there any creature prettier
Than a butterfly fluttering by
A creature of the utmost beauty
Like a rainbow high in the sky
Varied paths on wings of colour
A conspicuous fluttering flight
Darting forth from flower to flower
A delightful peaceful sight
Dancing amongst the blossoms
Drawn by the sweet smelling nectar
Preserving nature's eternal scheme
This fanciful pollen collector
Is there any creature prettier
Than a butterfly fluttering by
A vision of pure artistry
These delicate wings on high
© Jack Ellison 2012
RED-
Pillar boxes that stand open-mouthed
Waiting to be fed.
And plump ripe strawberries,
Dipped in sugar,
Smothered in cream.
Or just popped in your mouth
And squashed between your teeth
YELLOW-
Buttercups that shine under your chin
To give away your secrets.
And hot corn on the cob
That drips with butter
And smacks your lips.
PINK-
Candyfloss,like fluffy cotton wool
That glues to your fingers
And disappears in your mouth.
And gooey icing on the top
Of long sticky buns.
GREEN-
Grass that prickles your skin
When you run barefoot.
And unripe apples
Hanging from trees
That beg to be eaten
Till your tummy hurts!
ORANGE-
Fruit that juices your throat
And dribbles your chin.
And bonfire flames
Glowing and warm
That crackle and spit
And reach with poker fingers
If you get too near.
VIOLET-
Like the flowers, and the lilac
In blossom time.
And sweet smelling lavender
That crushes itself
On your hands
And reminds you of Grandma.
BLUE-
Sky on a clear sunny day
That dangles above your fingers
Just out of reach.
And the warm sea
That plunges you
Into its' playful waters
And wraps you up
In its' waves.
And then there are
Multi-coloured things,
Like ribbons,ballons and streamers.
Kites that play chase with the wind.
The wings of butterflies
And painted carnival faces.
And of course the rainbow
That appears bright and magical,
Soaring high above
Houses and tree tops
On to nowhere land,
Lighting up the sky
With its brilliance.
Then is gone,
Scattering itself
To be remembered
Among colour favourites.
Author: Runping Chen
The desk sends forth its particular fragrance
That gladden people’s hearts.
That is the sweet-smelling of the old camphor bodies
And into the impression of my childhood immerses.
The shade extended my fellow villagers’ strolling;
Countless summer nights embraced people’s joyful cooling.
The huge and tabescent trunk held up
The wind and frost for generations’ living.
The refreshing breeze was kissing the head of the tree.
Kindly pulled the old camphor closer
Some strands of cooking smokes
Vaguer and vaguer.
The production teams’ whistles were resounding over the village,
And grownups shouldered the sun and moon
Hurrying to the hills and fields
While the old camphor collected the children’s imaginative yields.
--In its chest
The childhoods would not be lonely and flurried
Counting from the stitches of leaves
Thousands and thousands of suns.
Many rivers of time were flowing around;
With no sense of time, the sadness I’ve known.
Since I was away, many shifts of the sunrise and sunset
I came back home and found the old camphor fallen on the ground.
It’s lying on the ground with no voice and sound,
Being dying and breathing
The merely last fragrance of its life
In front of the horrible carpenters who circled around.
The carpenters held their stainless saws
Ignoring the old camphor’s itches and aches.
On its shoulder was an owl
With the mouth open, and family ruined after all.
Prizing up the mouth for no use of vomiting sadness,
The birds sang no songs any more in the sky
Because they could hardly find back
Houses and household articles among the green leaves.
Children carried in both hands the remains of the old camphor’s bones,
Hating to pile them in the firewood house.
When the setting sun was sliding down the west hill ridges,
I walked back and forth around the old camphor tree.
I heard my name in the wind where the willows do weep,
Such a moment of bliss I will evermore keep.
For I sat in the silence, just a moment or two,
With paper and pen, thinking only of you.
Then I scrolled out a verse, a most delicate rhyme,
Unaware of the hour; unconcerned with the time.
Till my eyes were made blurry by the sun through the trees,
As the sweet-smelling jasmine arrived on the breeze.
So I took in a breath, just as well as your heart;
It was beating for all, and no longer a part.
Then your touch, as the grass, teased my delicate skin--
Such sweet innocence this; or such wonderful sin.
Ah, the earth is our playground; our home is the sky,
As I proudly remarked, "Look how high we can fly!"
Thus I give you my love, may it evermore keep...
Hear the wind in the willows? They no longer weep!
Collaboration: Mel Merrill and Casarah Nance
05/12/14
A picture hung upon the parlour wall
Of a brother I'd never met at all
Tony was the eldest child in the nest
Loved, cherished, by parents truly blessed.
Sadly Tony had lived for just four years
His passing left enormous grief and tears
Though I'm one of five sisters, ever dear
How I wish that my brother was still here.
We’d visit the grave often on Sundays
Where sweet smelling flowers each sister laid
We all said prayers asking the Holy One
To gently care for our brother and son.
Now Tony’s sitting on my parlour wall
And my sisters, so that I can recall
The memories we made along life's way
Though none of Tony, so sorry to say.
I often wonder how life would have been
If my brother had remained on the scene.
Absurdity, chaos,
strife:
The poet chooses
virtuous reality.
Sisyphus, a
titanic wave of metamorphosis, waiting, salted nausea:
The thinker roughed by sand
a solitary tree in a barren desert
defies absurdity
by seeking meaning in the absurd.
Authenticity,
vision, conformity, religion:
The rebel a roaring
wildfire igniting change like:
authenticity,
vision, and non-conformity
forging their own path.
Project,
reflect, individuality:
The human river
tasting the minerals of experience
expresses identity
and discovers themselves.
Leap,
Übermensch,
ethics,
logotherapy:
The agent
acts with freedom and responsibility
finding purpose.
Meaning,
joy, void, hope:
The sweet-smelling optimist a sunflower
fills emptiness with hope
seeking light in the darkness.
Truth,
illusion, reality, fiction:
The rationalist
discerns the real and the imagined.
Contradiction,
logic, emotion:
The harmonist
strives for balancing
the rational and emotional.
Freedom,
authenticity, manipulation, conformity:
The individualist
resists pressure and influence.
Awareness,
paradox, courage, hope:
The existentialist
embraces the absurd and transcends.
Leak,
speak,
strike,
kneel:
The activist challenges-
The status quo and injustice.
Tirelessly fights for justice!
Death,
suicide, violence, genocide:
The mortal
faces limit and horror with courage.
Despair,
nightmare:
The lover
shares and cares with love.
Existence
precedes essence?
Or essence
precedes existence?
The question
haunts forever.
The Stoic
Observes, unmoved yet aware:
Virtue alone suffices
whether essence or existence;
In reason and nature
we find our constant companion.
From life to vivaciousness
wood chips will nourish with nutrients' fix.
Ah... whiffs of fresh pine sift as temperature rises,
steam swirling from this pile higher than I.
Should I climb upon it and slide down,
I could drown in the sweet smelling heat.
Woodland bits would grip garments like embellishments,
pokes groping my skin as I whimsically wince,
pinecone punctures perceived as pleasures.
My hair would wear the wilderness afresh,
twigs twirling between tresses to rest.
With sought satisfaction of childhood carelessness,
hugging trees' sacrificial splendor,
I plunge in and spin.
2/29/2020