In her absence, her reflection is my poetry.
Quill could ink a million verses about her perfection.
Her heart's a gem not found in any rare jewellery.
Legacy of my ink will embed her history.
Musings without metaphors to show my affection.
In her absence, her reflection is my poetry.
Her poetic garden blossoms in deep mystery.
Diamonds, rubies and pearls lay on her path's direction,
Her heart's a gem not found in any rare jewellery.
Sweet scarlet lips form like a succulent strawberry,
dipped upon her chocolate satin bronze complexion.
In her absence, her reflection is my poetry.
Her sweet scent enchants like celestial perfumery,
shines brighter than a crystal starlight constellation.
Her heart's a gem not found in any rare jewellery.
Rainbow blessings highlight her masterpiece artistry,
sunshine after the rain warming our heart's connection.
In her absence, her reflection is my poetry.
Her heart's a gem not found in any rare jewellery.
Oh, my precious press, you are my
praise-worthy kitchen helper.
You take a clove of fresh garlic, bland,
and soon it becomes a brilliant burst in
minced, crushed, or creamy paste.
My gentle press, you transform
the wild garlic and tame it in a most
determined and delightful way.
You impart fine perfumery in the air.
You make a delicious marinade possible.
Your actions provide a tantalizing tongue treat
as a succulent addition to marinating
lean red or white meat, or veggies.
Oh, were it not for you, dear press,
my life would be a thankless kitchen
chore, well-intended, but poorly executed.
I applaud your bold audacity!
exotic jasmine
exuding exuberance ~
tempered thirst tantrum
pink perfumery
nature’s nourishing nectar ~
busy bumble bee
Like the scent of springtime lilacs
You're sweet perfumery
Like an ocean mist in summer
You wash right over me
Like a sudden rain in autumn
You cool my passion's flame
Like a soughing wind in winter
You gust your lovely name
Why all these many thing's
Shine and smell like bedazzled
diamond's inside a plush pottered bowl
containing fresh picked petal
perfumery
That banishes every spec of rustic
dust clinging desperately onto a
swinging chandelier
Hanging resplendent in a castle
greeting banquet hall so everyone
can see
Or it's exhibition library decked out
with many bound leather book's and
cigar lounging chair's
That make the hair's upon one's neck
elasticate snap back with deadly
electric shock infusion wonderment met
Have and both provide oh so so many
pretty thing's all bar none
But the final answers to where
they initially came from or what
they actually mean
To those precious lucky few who
throughout the ages have stood
before and witnessed
These such treasured priceless piece's
and work's of classic artistry
Stowed away and closeted inside private
collection's unlike in a public viewing gallery
So not the many but very few will
ever see neither it the light of day
All of these so many pretty thing's
Hidden so the whole wide world will
never see
They set to work upon our minds
To market sprays of many kinds
To give the world a different smell
More aerosols they then will sell
But first our minds they must corrupt
To pave the way for new product
So they begin the odour game
And make us feel a sense of shame
Because we have our own odour
Better we smell like a flower
Be gone the smell of pheromone
And other odorous hormone
With chemicals we spray each part
Perfumery becomes our art
We freshen air in every room
Spraying the synthetic perfume
Then carpets and curtains are sprayed
Along with towels and bedspread
And when this done we spray the dog
Now everywhere a perfumed fog
To market sprays of many kinds
They set to work upon our minds
Inhale ballets of swaying spring fragrance.
Perfumery leaps upon warm breezes,
swirling her into spingtide's guided dance~
gentle caresses, romantic teases.
Soars of bird encores sing, fresh wings flapping,
zephyr of evergreen upon each waft.
Redemption and love's lungs overlapping
sun brushed breath of lilac floating aloft.
Youth of spring rejuvenates, green abounds!
Ahh, fresh grass clipping whiffs sift through warm air.
Hugging beauty's arbor, sweetness surrounds;
climbing roses and wisteria flair.
Lilies and tulips lean into a kiss.
Breath of spring welcoming aroma's bliss!
3-12-2021
Bees in blooms, buzzing and swirling the sunshine,
As meadow creams, reds, fushias and oranges attract,
Beneath wild lapis blue skies, with coconut clouds.
Honeybees are on the wing, buzzing their lives away!
Nearby, forest green trees appear to touch the skies.
Crimson songbirds sing, then wander like butterflies.
Bees on blooms! In the overcrowded house of beauty,
As magic is wrought from nature's exotic perfumery!
Bees in midair! For joy is at the end of the line,
Before a berry sunset ends the afternoon activities.
Found from Mexican forests, to Southern Brazil,
The jeweled honeyless bees are very sweet still,
In colors blue, purple, red, gold or a mixture,
Their glossy bodies among the greenery a fixture.
Instead of honey, the male makes fine fragrancy,
And in place of a beehive, is a fancy perfumery,
So as to fascinate his beautiful female intended,
Like the smoky vibrancy of sky when day has ended!
Solitary creatures, they prefer to go it alone,
The male is stingless, but his queen has her own.
A love of blooms is had in common with honeybees,
As they flash and glitter among the emerald trees!
I remember when I was a child of seven wearing a mask for Halloween
how we took hours to get ready laughing giggling behind the scene
then I became a teenager and it brought on a big switch of costumery
I dressed like cat woman and enjoyed the sensual glide to perfumery
as time went by the only mask I wore was made of clay and cucumber
honesty was dear to me so I wore makeup, but no mask to encumber
as I got older in the hay day of 70's I chose a Venetian mask of black
and I danced all night beneath the disco ball like a dervish maniac
then when I got to be in my sixties a virus crept in uninvited and fast
I made a homemade mask , God only knows how long Covid will last
I've come to an era of my life when I realize that I don't need to bask,
so if I need to go to the store I wear a mask, no mask no task!
July 19, 2020
long hot summer days
chlorophyll in abundance ~
green and lush landscape
english rose garden
natural perfumery ~
sweet scent in the breeze
Written on 24th day of June 2020
For summer haiku poetry contest
Sponsored by Tania Kitchin.
Syllables checked on how many syllables. Com
Walking down the quaint city street entering the sweetshop,
Oh yes! Hershey’s Almond Milk Chocolate tasty flavor
Sweetheart chooses sweet licorice and hot fudge brownie delight,
Sweetie pie and I flavor sweetmeat crystallized fruit.
Sweet tooth such a happy mouth vibrato to have;
Healthy sweet corn with sweet pepper and sweet-and-sour
Rest in front of my Dear Heart and I with a sweet pea,
Sweet cherry edible fruit on ice cream dessert, oh yum!
Sweet sultan annual herb varicolored flower in garden
Touches sweet acacia shrub fragrant flowers for perfumery,
Enjoying sweet basil on my sweet potato pie with my Sugar Love
Sweet nothings sound to wife trompe l’oeil painted photographic reality.
Sweet cicely herb white flowers brighten garden sipping
Sweet cider with cinnamon and raspberry shortbread warm
Soul with endearments, together speaking love honestly husband
Wife meshed together in all things sharing sweet clover; blessed.
perfumery pink
a doll of a twilight sky —
the scent drifts my way
2/25/2020
Blackberry bushes barricade the background
of your immature stature.
Braided chestnut hair rests gently
on weakly shoulders
as your hazel eyes beam a child's rippling wonder.
Bee-glazed berry juice permeates your smiling cheeks.
The taste streams alive as I gaze upon you
with your burgundy splashed denim jumper,
which belongs in an art museum,
but remains in my heart.
Your quarter full pail fills with sunshine brined time.
In search of the best, you request my help
to reach the hierarchy of treats,
those that brush the sun's ripening wonder first.
A perfumery of sweet harvest freshness
tickles my nasal cavity with nostalgia.
Your imprinting hand hugs mine as
my prime pickings are exchanged for smiles.
I can almost hear your laughter,
scattering impulsively throughout my longing.
In this photograph, for only a moment,
I can almost bring you back.
2/25/2020
O, Valencia's prized possession,
perfected in your prime,
to pluck you without resistance
from a beaming, bowing branch...
Gravity's gentle transaction
would roll like attraction into my open palm.
To feel your textured tenderness within an easy grip,
senses saturated with sun kissed sleekness...
How juicy you must be underneath your polished peel.
Tenderness is just one press away
from these longing lips.
Digging in, cuticles' thirst would be quenched
like a manicure's pleasure.
The citrus mist would burst beneath your flesh
with the sound of captive release, freedom's sigh.
Fragrant as orange blossoms under active inhales,
sweet as honey perfumery,
tantalizing taste buds would smoothly
squeeze your ethereal pulp upon them,
dripping with delectable desire fulfilled.
Seamless in freshness, unblemished,
each bite would be a lover's delight,
binding beauty, external with internal
in this connoisseur's lifelong find.
2-18-2020
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