Athar, Javadhu, colognes of delight,
Brut in a bottle, glass catching light.
Fragrances gather, they fill up the air,
A new look is given to all who wear.
Shapes and sizes, so dainty, so tall,
Perfume parades, I admire them all.
Lovely sprays, tiny pots on display,
Mesmerise seekers who pass by their way.
From Parisian fashion to Gulf’s scented art,
Ancient secrets with herbs play their part.
A jar once closed holds a world inside,
A fragrant breeze with the wind will ride.
Yet when I open, a sneeze takes hold,
Nose in protest, blocked and bold.
All ends in rain of sneezes untold—
As I’m allergic to perfumes.
Tea bags and wet dog, crossword ink on fingertips.
Chocolate biscuit wrappers, garden pond algae.
Hairspray that held those curly grey locks in place. Regal.
Scents mixed and shaken,
ground and stirred – a dusting of her
that wafts through air like a time
machine, shuttling me back to a
bowling alley, a country show digging
up worms. A couch that belched
stories when sat on. Vegetable broth.
I’d bottle it. I’d use it sparingly.
Red carpet occasions only.
Or for our backyard patio boardgames.
I Smell Like Your Perfume
With a morning hug.
I smell like your exquisite perfume.
Fragrances exposed.
Herbal aromas.
Just the two of us.
With captivating moments.
Your smile is like oils and spices.
Your emerald eyes move me.
You stood by me through the tough times.
Dancing through radiant harmonies.
When we grow old.
There will be memories through enhancing purities.
Together always with morning coffee.
No one can ever replace you, truly.
Roses never smelled wilt quicker,
For the roses cry and since tears are salt water,
And salt dehydrates, the roses shrivel.
In addition, the whole plant might rebel against life
all because no one stopped and smelled the roses...
So if you ever spot a rose bush make a beeline for it
And sniff every single blossom.
When asked what smell they like, most people name
sweet flowers’ fragrance or aroma of
fresh baking bread, but one smell has no fame,
yet it is one I personally love.
I still remember all so long ago
when gas stations emitted quite a scent.
I know not why today this isn’t so;
one day away the gas station’s scent went.
My dad would stop to fill our car with gas.
I’d roll my window down to breathe it in.
Deeply I’d inhale it. Sniff, sniff! Alas,
the car got filled up fast to my chagrin.
It even beats paint, glue and vaseline.
How beautiful the smell of gasoline!
“Wake up, breakfast is cooking.”
Bacon in cast iron skillet,
sounds and smells, wafted through the tent.
“Coming”, the crackling bacon got me!
There's a terrible smell in the kitchen
like rotting fruit
or a dead mouse
high and lonesome, eye-watering
thin and whispering, fuzzy with grief
Whenever I think I've located it
it goes into hiding
You can bleach the sink
and empty the bins
look under the table and behind
the cupboards, but
you won't find it any of those places
smooth shaving cream suds
waking up wily whiskers
gentlemans fragrance
I Smell Like Your Perfume
With a morning hug.
I smell like your exquisite perfume.
Fragrances exposed.
Herbal aromas.
Just the two of us.
With captivating moments.
Your smile is like oils and spices.
Your emerald eyes move me.
You stood by me through the tough times.
Dancing through radiant harmonies.
When we grow old.
There will be memories through enhancing purities.
Together always with morning coffee.
No one can ever replace you, truly.
"There is a harmony in autumn, and a lustre in its sky,
which through the summer is not heard or seen,
as if it could not be, as if it had not been!"
- Quote by Percy Bysshe Shelly
--------------------------------------------------------
"Lingering leaves of gold frolic
frolicked in the autumn wind"
humid air-dampened shy trees
start to shed slowly all
inhibited emerald green
Friendly few trees stand guard
taking in gawking stares
so does fallen leaves, naked nests
make those flying colors chill
all fresh souls blush deep
As leaved earth listens to wind
gleeful birds join symphony
elated critters crush leaves
create sweet musky smell of joy
captivating senses of breath
You may not believe me
But I know it so well
Every lilac tree
Has its own special smell
This I fail to describe
Its expressless to me
Each tree has its own type
Blooming easy and free
There's no equality shared
No familiar democracy
Lilacs fragrances spread
Fugitive meritocracy
Flattering you with the one
Sweetest lie
You are still fair and young
If you give it a try.
Smell Of An Old Book
Pages turn yellow.
Black ink at work.
Your mind is thinking.
Solitude sky shines many.
Exhale poetry.
Words written yesterday.
Turn each page.
Fall slumber, away.
Shadowy eyes a haze.
Smell of an old book fades.
The love of reading.
Someone else's story.
Another chapter ages.
Clean air after the rain, to memories.
A poet to paper.
Rain in the mud makes a foot print.
I’m just writing you a letter.
I wish you were near.
So much time lost.
Smell of an old book.
enticing bouquet
canopy above my head
feral timberland
i swear june dew has a smell
the smell of summer at my door
the smell of freedom
that first day school is out
the smell of realizing
i get to decide what to do
with my days my weeks
with my summer
that taste of freedom
permeates the air
it’s come on suddenly and
everything looks different
june dew brings on
a whole new world
an expanse an open door
an invitation
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
another weekday
she awakens
to the sunrise aroma of
preset coffee brewing
her eyes still closed
she thinks about her day
and slowly starts to form
thoughts in her head
so much to do
so little time
a jolt of java
revs up the engine
give her a minute
she'll come to life
another sip
and there it is
it's all systems go!
AP: 1st place 2025
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