Scenting Poems

Fall is Coming

Brisk falling temperature
Blue sky turning into a soothing gray
Hinting of Winter snowflakes
Shorter days with early nightfall

Spring bulbs hibernate in the cooling soil
Birds gathering in pine trees at night for warmth
Searching for bird feeders during the day
Leaves falling creating a multi color carpet on the ground below
Fireplaces scenting the outside air with a sweet smokey smell

Attention turning inward
Sweater weather
The smell of hearty meals fills the house
Sleeping on flannel sheets

Enjoy all the fall changes

Quarantined Abandon

Allowance is issued by allegiance 
Descent
De scenting the grain
Defection from account
The man above watches 
As open journal 
His story is carved
And reared 
Nearer grown abundant

Recital of vow and order
un adhered 
Ends actions statements
A fold is created

Company is kept seperate

SWEET SCENTED UNITY

SWEET SCENTED UNITY

Scenting their sweet love,
In their black and white ones,
Two skunks seeking birth:-

Sweet Summer

To thrushes’ serenade at blush of dawn
and with the blooming of magnolia trees,
sweet Summer wills the sun to smile upon
the meadow flowers scenting morning’s breeze.
Sometimes she’s mellow; other times she’s bold.
She’ll sizzle, yet she’ll soothe with wind’s embrace.
She’s strawberries, fireflies and marigold.
In azure skies, she plants a rainbows’ grace.
Then drawn-out days at last come to an end.
Persimmon sunsets disappear from sight
when shadows creep and into darkness blend,
but her bright stars can light the blackest night.
I still recall how all my cares were flung
when she came. Oh, to be once more so young!

Nature's Fireworks

Flowers are nature's fireworks.
Especially in May.
The explosion of color
takes one's breath away.

From the finest artists' hands,
come morning, day and night,
in all their different hues
and every shade of light.

Swaying in the wind,
majestic, sleepy or gay;
scenting the blustery air
with heaven's secret bouquet.

Feeding the hungry insects,
drawing the busy bees,
hiding the smallest forms,
decorating spring's trees.

The pink flowery beds,
the evening velvet rose,
subtle changes of smell
lifting one onto their toes.

So when you're feeling down,
and energy begins to drain;
think of nature's fireworks
to fill your heart again.

The Louvre

Beneath strands of citrine dangling in the sky
arms glitter on a Moulin Rouge display,
neon bulbs flirt with the Arc spinning high
its rich tableu, like pastel from Monet.

And streets float on floods of traffic yellow
unleashing a thousand monarchs on flames,
scenting an evening airbrushed by Van Gogh
as figures grind on roulette of oiled frames.

                              -
Paris night , after 9 pm...a few years back
Third place

HIM

Annunciated, 
Germinated, seed of God;
Blooming in heaven:
Scenting the foul air of earth
With his divine peace and love:-

The Feast of Power

Walls breathe insistent hunger,
red as the inside of a split pomegranate,
richer still where the tallow has melted,
slick as the fat from a burnt offering. 

Scarpia does not eat.
He savors—sounds of gristle 
snapping in the next room—
—low, wet gasps—
body writhing beneath unseen hands,
a melody of muscle breaking.

Tosca stands, spine locked,
as he drinks from a goblet brimming with the color
of a mouth left too long in the sun.
He watches her throat move,
slow, careful, like a deer 
scenting iron in the air.

A scream glissandos through the walls.
Scarpia wipes his lips.
His fingers, thick as butcher’s twine,
gesture toward the door—
an invitation, a demand—
a sermon delivered without breath.

Tosca does not kneel.
Not yet.
But the feast has begun,
and the host holds the fermata. 



(note: this poem was inspired by a scene from the opera Tosca by Giacomo Puccini)

Winter Jasmine

Well-favored Winter Jasmine,
how have you managed to survive?
It's long past the briskness of Autumn days.
Yet, your exquisite beauty lingers, and you thrive,
lovely petals still intact when you shouldn't be alive.

Oh, wondrous Winter Jasmine,
your plant has lost leaves of jade green.
Such a picturesque paradox within my garden,
botanical glowing when moonlight casts a sheen
upon you, creating the glint of a glimmering scene.

My perfect Winter Jasmine,
as white as the day you bloomed
on your stout stem you still stand tall,
scenting the air around you, softly perfumed.
Visions of you laced with snow, my eyes consumed.

Winsome Winter Jasmine,
I fear you're encapsulated in ice.
Not grown in freezing tundra on earth
like alpine flowers of stark white, edelweiss.
I hope your stunning show has not been a sacrifice.

Enduring Winter jasmine, 
I hope you remain until Spring.
When you are warmed by the sun,
to your greening bush will you still cling,
attracting pollen seekers; honeybees on the wing?

HAILING MARY

HAILING MARY                     
(A Haiku Quintet)

Gardening Mary...
Her fruit of love blossoming...
The Christ child is born...  

Her Rose of Love, born:
Crucified stem…petals of resurrection;
Gracefully scenting:-

Gardener’s womb flows…
Her ripe fruit of love is here…
Let’s cistern it’s fruit…

It is harvest time!
The son of God has arrived;
Mary’s star shining…

Hale Mother Mary!
Fruited womb releasing grace—
Glory be to Christ!

AWAY THE FLEETING BUTTERY FLY-

fleeting butterfly
fly away son be autumns
sway flower breath breath
~
waving quietly
sweet scenting quite so temping
aromatic plants



9/23/24
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2024©

Tumbling

Over the flume in a barrel,
consumed by a rainbow cascade;

Oh, the adrenaline of inundation!
Sumptuous the rush of shock therapy;
Chaos is the fresh start,
that flow is the restart of your heart;

Cataclysmic charge inside the mist,
heightened by Ozone scenting the air;
Rolling me like a beast,
gutted of everything but the fall;

Over the flume in a barrel,
consumed by a rainbow cascade;

Petrified, high on the speed tumbling;
I want it to stop, I want that ride;
In it’s mouth I taste it,
the rush racing from fingers to toes;

A mirror of personality,
ideas explode into action;
Insanity is chance,
don’t sweat it you’ll float to the bottom;

Over the flume in a barrel,
topsy-turvy is unnerving;
When you stand up you’re left awestruck,
consumed by a rainbow cascade.

Canticle For The Cosmos

Every atom and molecule
of me was made by you 
in the cauldron of your womb 
and these five senses of mine
are as much yours to mirror
back your majesty.

For you I assemble the morning
with its chilly wind coming across
the bay, the bloom weighted branches
of magnolia bending over my way
and scenting this last month of winter
with a promise of spring.

And here, just over the water,
great scoops of cloud
sitting like sun licked ice cream atop 
of the city skyline, soft serve
for this sensory breakfast
that I offer you

lifted on the laughter of children
on their way to school,
all this a blossoming 
of abundant life held in a morning
gifted me, beauty born 
of such unimaginable savagery.

Minus Identity

Shines the season brimming with grandeur, rich
In winter... frills of ice and snow bewitch 
My pine trees capped with tinsels evergreen :
Comes spring-- dizzy where buds' hues turn to sheen
While air minty weaves on glens to unfurl
My trail scenting walks on plush lanes...hours whirl.

Then summer calls, hundred moths blaze cloud's  fire,
Red-hot nights flaming, sizzling moon's desire 
To entice a June love I bring to shore,
Till fall chants... boughs spilling lace on damp floor 
Relishing life's harvest...true hearts content
When I trace cycles blooming but not spent;

For this spirit thrives on stars, earth, 
' neath clay...
I am life that begins and ends each day
Between seasons,  time pauses for a while,
As hands nourish solstices that beguile.
For I, God's nature child, could grant relief
Bringing hope for man's journey...root to leaf

The Lotus At Midnight

  



    

      Floating blissfully alone in a moonlit, silvery repast.

      Scenting the night with her heady, fragrance of romance.



                                      4/12/2024

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