Do not toast to tomorrow!
Unable to even gaze upon this very moment,
Is tomorrow truly a blessing meant for you?
Yes, she hesitated.
For a moment, I surrendered reality.
Before I knew it, lingering with a sweet kiss,
Suddenly, her own "Lord of the Rings"
Found its way onto my finger.
"Today too, when I get off work,
I surrender my entire body
To her sense of smell."
"It's not your bonus day today, is it?"
The white almond blooms once again
Who hasn’t wanted to sing the praises of the complete
Trigger the sense of smell with this special odor
Green pickles used to be so eager, now hears my groan
I hate thinking of the blue moldy, the debility of aging
With a wrench I closed the lid of all pleasure
In the treetops the crows roared with laughter
- that it is terribly rude to laugh
If laughter was their only joy, frailty showed
A fire burned in me, the soul tormented
I can’t bear to eat my food with a toothpick
after becoming slow and contemplative
How good it is that I can see;
rain pouring on the window,
letters arriving, life moving on,
a cat sleeping,
many bills to pay...
and I can feel:
a wave, a sneeze
when it comes,
the cold chilling me,
the sun warming...
victory coming...
I can hear: divine hearing...
clocks ticking,
snoring, music. divine music,
dogs barking.
cars speeding up
fireworks popping
drills drilling,
even idle chatter...
lemon scent in the air,
the smell of roses
a woman's perfume,
the air of happiness
a well-honed sense of smell
The Midas touch,
the caress of my beloved.
a friendly hug,
the soft touch of silk,
a good-enjoyed touch...
beer!
other wonderful juices...
food of the Gods,
the most incredible taste;
the flavor of your mouth,
the taste of your skin...
beloved mia....
The tall man cannot see,
He has lost his sense of smell
He is my best friend
Who's life could be a life of hell
He is seldom miserable
And doesn't complain about his fate
He is a man of compassion
Who's heart has no space for hate
He walks tall and proud
And does not need a crutch
He possesses a vivid imagination
And a very tender touch
He is never bitter
Or bemoans his lot
He gets pleasure from living
Content with the life he has got
Sadly, he was born this way
So does not know any other
His affliction will never go away.
But he is more intelligent than his brother.
how many taste buds do we have? Asked the tongue.
Thousands she told her, discerning them looks like fun!
First I would organize them into the right kitchen bin.
Sweet, salty, sour, or bitter, placing them in the right tin.
Taste buds carry messages to the eating seating brain.
Your sense of smell helps you determine taste in the rain.
You can't paint the sky blue
Or make the sun shine
Create the flowers and make them bloom
Or touch the moon
See eternity and destiny
Can't smell perfume if you have no sense of smell
Walk on water
Grasp a summer breeze
Or bring up water without a bucket from a well
Make the grass green
Stop the hands of time
Drink from an empty glass
Can't reach a heart that's hidden behind a defensive wall
Make diamonds sparkle and twinkle in your eyes
Or go or travel back to the past
Fly through the sky without a balloon or a plane
Can't make a day last
Can't climb a mountain in slippery shoes
Open doors that won't open
Or look through windows with shattered glass
Can't always win sometimes we have to lose
Or make an ocean emerald green or blue
None of this is possible
But it was possible the day I first met you
I smell a mountain goat she says
halfway through our wild walk.
Sure you do I almost gloat,
I won't indulge such silly talk.
But, sure enough 'round that next curve
it's standing there and looks at me as if to say
Hey there Bud, you've got some nerve,
and I ...
I do not doubt her sense of smell unto this very day!
Inspired by a photo and commentary at Scot Rubey Photography on Facebook
TO BE ABLE TO SMELL THE SWEET SCENT OF BLOOMS
THE CRISPNESS OF FRESHLY CUT GRASS
THE WOODINESS OF A LUMBERED TREE
IMAGES IN YOUR MIND ARE CAST
THE SENSE OF SMELL IS SO DEFINING
IT ENABLES THE IMAGINATION TO BE FREE
SWEET, SPICY, WOODY OR MUSK
A CONNECTION TO IT THERE WILL BE
SMELLING SOMETHING AS IT COOKS
STRAIGHT AWAY IT’S OF FOOD YOU THINK
BUT THE SMELL OF SOMETHING BURNING
SUGGESTS FIRE AS THE LINK
IT’S A BLESSING TO HAVE THE SENSE OF SMELL
IT EXPLAINS WHY WE WERE BORN WITH NOSES
LIFE JUST WOULDN’T BE THE SAME
IF WE COULDN’T WAKE UP AND SMELL THE ROSES
When everything about me still thrives,
And everything is a sight for sore eyes,
I'm thankful for my sense of SIGHT.
When noise abounds with the hearing of sounds,
because my eardrums are enough to Astone,
I'm grateful for my sense of HEARING.
When never taking for granted a savory taste,
And as Jesus said, let nothing go to waste,
I'm thankful for my sense of TASTE.
When my bride is baking with sweet working labor,
And overwhelming me with smells of succulent flavors,
I'm grateful for my sense of SMELL.
I bow my knees and heart when I feel that loving touch,
And when I realize that I have been blessed with so much,
I'm thankful for my sense of TOUCH.
082023PS
I wander through deep sleep where dreams come true.
My heart, a vessel longing to pursue,
Transforming into echoes of your view.
With every whispered word and tender sigh,
I journey closer, never asking why.
Your essence seeps into my soul,
A metamorphosis I can't ignore.
Your laughter dances, mingling with my own,
Our souls entwined, in synchronicity sown.
I'll shed my skin, embrace your every sense of smell,
Our destinies merging, a sublime embrace.
Through fields of passion, we shall intertwine,
Bound by the tapestry our hearts design.
No longer I, but a reflection true of you,
we shall become as one, my love, I do.
Our spirits merge, two flames forever bright,
An alchemy of love, both day and night.
In unity, we'll soar on wings unseen,
A symphony of souls, forever seen.
No longer two, but merged in perfect blend,
A love that knows no limits, knows no end.
In harmony, we'll paint the world anew,
For I shall become as you, my love, I do.
If some scents stir romance, reminiscence,
If jasmines evoke forgotten good times,
Lavenders if spread peace, tranquil fragrance,
Enigma, scents of mild lemons and limes,
Some scents treat stress, enliven, create lull,
If some work hard to make you feel alert,
If mints sharpen memories long since dull,
Does mine make you any naughty and pert?
Yea, summer be when hot we muse of rain,
In cold, mind goes to warm conjugal bed,
It’s hard toil to recall bitter-sweet strain
Of that rare omnipotent trail ye spread.
Yet, times are when in a dilemma caught,
My sense of smell endures long spells of drought.
__________________________________________
Sonnets |12.05.2023| scents, romance
Poet’s note: A couple in a conjugal bed discusses scents of nature— the varied types and what they do. And suddenly the wife, curious a creature as they all are, asks about her naturally emanating scent. If truthful answers are not likely to be acceptable, one has to adopt a round-about way, and this sonnet does the same.
Today we went to the zoo,
clouds scud high and the sky was blue.
Mum,sis and me filed in the queue,
Gran and Gramps waited too.
Giant giraffes,six metres tall,
looked over a stable stall.
Short sighted rhinos with a keen sense of smell,
hippos wallowing in a mud-filled well.
Asian elephants lifting logs,
leaving the crowd all agog.
Gorillas foraging fancy free,
penguins 'catching' fish for tea.
Free to roam,bok and antelope,
sea lions leaping over a rope.
Amazing scenes to recall and digest,
picnic places to eat and rest.
Gift shop,ices and more besides,
entertainment diverse and wide.
Copyright © Brian Strand | Year Posted 2007
australian numbat is cuter than a chipmunk, monkey or cat.
with deep claws that know how to dig out food so fat.
tiny brown eyes and shiny nose remind us of the snout of a deer.
his striped eye socket is chipmunk-like, and crystal clear.
termites are the numbat’s diet of choice of course.
never a poetic subject of Poe or Joyce, like a horse.
but he devours termites twenty thousand strong.
not yearly, but daily. I do not think this is wrong.
reptiles and raptors – pythons and eagles too….
try to catch and devour numbats as foxes do.
numbats sense of smell is overly developed, keen.
at Yookamurra Sanctuary they can easily be seen.
mumbats' caves and cottages are actually hollow logs.
where he can hide from feral cats and dogs.
george moore recorded his first one in 1833.
“Looks like a squirrel, weasel or striped cat to me.”
No sense of smell
No sense of touch
Oh, how I miss that sense so much
I cannot hear the words you say
In your inimitable way
I cannot taste your lips on mine
The way your arms around me entwine
I cannot smell the warmth of you
And cuddle like we used to do
BUT
I have vivid dreams at night
Dreams that fill me with delight
Memories come flooding in
And a new life for us begins again
The nighttime for us turns into day,
Where you and I can laugh and play,
A place where we can embrace
And look into each other's eyes and face
With love so pure
We can endure
The daylight hours,
Until my life on Earth is through
And my dream turns into reality with you.
I'm truly sorry for those who died.
From that cheeky little FauchXi virus.
And those demonized for deflecting
the virgin big pharma prick.
I'm embarrassed to say that I thrived.
During the height of the lockdown madness.
Didn't mind wearing a diaper on my face.
I've always been a plain Jane.
It's all about the eyes anyways...or so they say-
I enjoyed the unclogged commutes.
The rock star parking.
Thinner lines at the five and dime...
Six feet of personal space at all times...
The downside was I caught the FaucXi virus... twice.
The first time was a breeze-
I got a little cocky and careless.
The second time was much more vicious.
Lost my sense of smell and taste.
I'm quickly out of breath.
As my lungs were laid to waste!
Now, the texture and color of food are paramount.
Maskless faces appear plastic now...
Some people still mask their scars.
Fear along with jealousy and greed
are the hardest things to glean...from really living.
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.