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Poems about smell

poems about smell

Like 2. Sorry, this post can only be viewed by registered users: [ resonance ] - DancesWithWords. Mine Now Artificial fog clings to abiotic surfaces and bellows from between the cracks of her shower door. It's steamy now. How appropriate. Once that great portal opened her tapestry-draped silhouette engulfed the frame and allowed the fog to hang about her ankles like a rock star's introduction.

In a flash, she has arrived- and blind-sided the room with the force of an earthquake. The aftershocks of olfactory satisfaction register a 9. It is not Chanel, nor Creed, nor Cartier but Eau de Shampoo; and it's rich impression is forever etched into the pillows we once shared.

Roses Quotes

Memory foam, indeed. Now the lady is long gone, but the fossils of her shower routine were abandoned with extreme prejudice. My paleological expedition yielded the unexpected results of: "Why the hell not? Eau de Shampoo gifted me the strength to move on, and good-smelling silky hair! It's mine now. There's probably a lesson in empowerment somewhere in here, but it's really just the story of how I came across my new brand of shampoo.

Learn commenting. Is it you or is it me? We must combine our energy. Inbox x.Below are the all-time best Smell poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of smell poems written by PoetrySoup members.

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See how to enable ads while keeping your ad blocker active. Thank you! Member Area. Word Counter. Read More. A Cathartic Weave Of Three listen, the whispers of leaves turn colour autumn is here. I could tell you how much I love you, But, that will never heal the pain. Best Friend Defined What's a best friend, But the smell before rain?

The hand that we give, When a friend is in pain It's the things that we do, The words that we The Wind I am the wind You cannot see me but you can feel me Breezing gently through your hair Brushing slightly across your cheek Whispering softly 'neath your ear I am Ancient Warrior I see the wrinkles in your suntanned brow, You carried burdens then; you see them now.

He was the neighborhood drunk.In Time Of Grief Analysis of this poem Dark, thinned, beside the wall of stone, The box dripped in the air; Its odor through my house was blown Into the chamber there.

Remote and yet distinct the scent, The sole thing of the kind, As though one spoke a word half meant That left a sting behind. I knew not Grief would go from me, And naught of it be plain, Except how keen the box can be After a fall of rain.

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Perfume Analysis of this poem Shake out your hair about me, so, That I may feel the stir and scent Of those vague odours come and go The way our kisses went. Night gave this priceless hour of love, But now the dawn steals in apace, And amorously bends above The wonder of your face.

Should the days needing armies, needing fleets, come again, O to hear you call the sailors and the soldiers! O to hear the tramp, tramp, of a million answering men! O the ships they arm with joy! O to see you leap and beckon from the tall masts of ships! O to see you peering down on the sailors on the decks!

Flag like the eyes of women. Justification Analysis of this poem See how the Rainbow in the skie Seems gaudy through the Suns bright eye; Harke how an Eccho answere makes, Feele how a board is smooth'd with waxe, Smell how a glove putts on perfume, Tast how theyr sweetnesse pills assume: So by imputed Justice, Clay Seemes faire, well spoke, smooth, sweet, each way.

Poems About Food

The eye doth gaze on robes appearing, The prompted Eccho takes our hearing, The board our touch, the sent our smell, The pill our tast: Man, God as well. Walnut—leaf Scent Analysis of this poem In the high leaves of a walnut, On the very topmost boughs, A boy that climbed the branching bole His cradled limbs would house. On the airy bed that rocked him Long, idle hours he'd lie Alone with white clouds sailing The warm blue of the sky.

I remember not what his dreams were; But the scent of a leaf's enough To house me higher than those high boughs In a youth he knew not of, In a light that no day brings now But none can spoil or smutch, A magic that I felt not then And only now I touch.

Farewell, Life! My senses swim, And the world is growing dim; Thronging shadows cloud the light, Like the advent of the night,— Colder, colder, colder still, Upward steals a vapor chill— Strong the earthy odor grows— I smell the mould above the rose! Welcome, Life! Strength returns, and hope revives; Cloudy fears and shapes forlorn Fly like shadows at the morn,— O'er the earth there comes a bloom— Sunny light for sullen gloom, Warm perfume for vapor cold— I smell the rose above the mould!

As A Perfume Analysis of this poem As a perfume doth remain In the folds where it hath lain, So the thought of you, remaining Deeply folded in my brain, Will not leave me: all things leave me: You remain.We would be wise to plan for this when we plant a garden. Immediately at the moment of perception, you can feel the mind going to work, sending the odor around from place to place, setting off complex repertories through the brain, polling one center after another for signs of recognition, for old memories and old connection.

Without them, - these sticks, stones, feathers, shells, - there is no Deity. Through the open door, stealthily, came the scent of madonna lilies, almost as if it were prowling abroad. Care stops at the gates, and gazes at me wistfully through the bars.

But in its very purest form, this "sensual awareness" is non-symbolic, non-conceptual, momentary consciousness. Neither can you taste, smell, see, touch or hear the future. In other words, organismic consciousness is properly timeless, and being timeless, it is essentially spaceless. Just as organismic awareness knows no past or future, it knows no inside or outside, no self or other. Thus pure organismic consciousness participates fully in the non-dual awareness called Absolute Subjectivity.

The faintest waft is sometimes enough to induce feelings of hunger or anticipation, or to transport you back through time and space to a long-forgotten moment in your childhood. It can overwhelm you in an instant or simply tease you, creeping into your consciousness slowly and evaporating almost the moment it it detected.

Each fragrance, whether sweet or spicy, light or heavy, comes upon you in its own way and evokes its own emotional response. You have to spread it around or it smells. Paul Getty. She smells regeneration in the moist breath of decay. In fact, they waste it only when nobody except a human being is there to smell it.

It is for the bugs and a few birds, not for men, that they dye their petals or waft their scents. They send their perfume over trees And roof and streets, to find the bees. White, Onward and Upward in the Garden But in the early morning only a faint fragrance drifted through the garden, an airy message, an aromatic echo of the dreams during the short summer night.

I got a whiff of the leather on all the old books, a smell that got real strong if you picked one of them up and stuck your nose real close to it when you turned the pages.

5 Senses Poem: Smell

Then there was the the smell of the cloth that covered the brand-new books, books that made a splitting sound when you opened them. Then I could sniff the the paper, that soft, powdery, drowsy smell that comes off the page in little puffs when you're reading something or looking at some pictures, kind of hypnotizing smell.

In the odor of young men there is something elemental, as of fire, storm, and salt sea. It pulsates with buoyancy and desire.

Wake Up and Smell The Poetry: Open Mic

It suggests all the things strong and beautiful and joyous and gives me a sense of physical happiness. I like the crackling logs, the shaded lights, the scent of buttered toast, the general atmosphere of leisured coziness.

That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet. The whole thing is mingling of unwholesome greens, livid purples, and pallid pinks, the livery of putrescence in fact, and it possesses and odour to match the colouring. Fisher, The Art of Eating.

Smells - Poem by Christopher Morley

I put it near my nose and nearly pass out. It smells of old houses and aged wood and dark secrets, but also of hard, hot sunshine through ancient shutters and long, wicked afternoons in a four-poster bed.I truly enjoyed writing the following poems about food. I was inspired to write them due to my passion for food and healthy living. At times it was a challenge, as I was literally drooling on my keyboard.

I don't see myself as a health guru far from that. Sometimes, I am guilty of eating foods that are not as good, but I do try to stick to the healthier choices most of the time. For most of us, I think food not only needs to have nutritional value, but it also must taste good.

So the challenge we all face is trying to eat foods that are both; high in good for us nutrients and taste amazing at the same time. We all enjoy delicious food, Makes us happy, fixes our mood. It's all about the juicy taste, Doesn't matter, where the food is placed.

poems about smell

We should consider, nutritional support, We shall need it, if we engage in a sport. Energy; food provides - plenty Need a bit more, if we're over twenty. A great dish, we should all savor, Eat slowly, as we taste the flavor. Choose our very favorite cuisine, Is it red? Or is it green? Personally, I'm a very huge fan of many different types of sweet treats. However, my favorite is definitely apple pie.

I'm talking about my 85 year old grandma Alice's legendary apple pie. I can't even describe how amazing her homemade apple pies taste. This next poem is dedicated to my wonderful and loving grandmother Alice. I can't wait to see her again, and thank her for everything she has done for me and our family for so many years. I'll take sweet, any day over sour, Mouth-watering pastries depend on the flour. Dessert usually comes, at the end of the meal, Sugary sensations, the taste is surreal. Belgian chocolate truffle cake, Cures every single, emotional ache.

Some may say, it's a bit too rich, I'm in love, I'll never switch. How about grandma's apple pie, I don't care, if goes to my thigh. When I see it, I think of heaven, Feel so lucky, call me Seven. Recently, I also became a big fan of Belgian chocolate truffle cake even though it has a very rich flavor. This cake is made by La Rocca, and tastes amazing.If only getting up were not required! O whirring brain! I must release the clutch! This pre-dawn engine-racing is too much!

Coffee Nightmare Ga-bring-galling. The truth? I fail. The kitchen pulls with magnet force— not really. My brain upon the grind is perched, until the very last is ground. I watch the maker boil and shake and then begin to percolate. NO POT! Buffalo Nickel stepped into a cold cavern damp and dim, wet walls I thought others were with me I turned around, alone dripping sounds echoed from deep hollows wet footsteps, voices but no words I stood still, waiting I woke from that scene with echoes still fresh on my mind the moist aroma of coffee a light from down the hall drew me to the kitchen table momma sitting, counting coins she smiled, held up a buffalo nickel I remember when you found this on that bluff in Wyoming surprised I still have it almost put it in a parking meter once sometimes a dream becomes a poem Goodnight My Ravages Into Black Liquid Shifting cauldron a bending sensation, beneath the graves of my elders from kidney failure.

Continously binding rail I seek, further pine withered as I seek artistic construction. Nostalgic nights of endless creativity fracture fields within, corpses of winter remain. Cleavers form in the clouds, announce my high demons a ritual, a carving into skeleton.

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Resemble twisted limbed wolves a prosperous perspective in the voices I now brew softly. Kalimba from redwood majesty embark strenuous seeds of mechanical crow a whisper. Clear near the roaming lakes of night, for be aware of the few branches I further embrace. September society reform the seasmoke drifting, celestial walrus distrust this canvas. Foaming mouth of a miserable maniacal wound healer has become my stalker, closer.

Severed reflection in the wake of northern baleen whale these words, find answer. Dripping wax meadows vanish, every leaf I seek in Earth's caress doom creative key. Further blinding liquid that invite the stomach a pleading misery, my corpse listens. Mentality flourish while I gift the gates of starving hand a fear of passions past.

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Hosts of the welcome sea, not near for applauding shadow, one must seek change. Cracked vessel disrupt vibrancy core, shaking mind as water in memory, body in need. Recession of the receding disabilities, damaged days of timid seasons, workers are broken. Worried by the depths of how far one will develop fractures while the mind soon suffers.

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Selfish consumption in ridiculous waves while my quill reveal the rebellions in reflection. Sight this silent tea beside kettle fire, plenty of water resume the coming years collective.

Sudden casket of my speaking corpse, not be the rain that which hault my renaissance. Dim lantern serenade insightful words from within, in meadows where coyotes and wolves lurk, their voices must brew change.

What is it that you see here? Thank you for your time. Inbox x.You have an ad blocker! We understand, but PoetrySoup is a small privately owned website. Our means of support comes from advertising revenue. We want to keep PoetrySoup alive, make it better, and keep it free. Please support us by disabling your ad blocker on PoetrySoup. See how to enable ads while keeping your ad blocker active. Thank you! Member Area. Word Counter. Words: smeersmegmasmellsmelledsmeller.

Smell Poems - Below are popular examples of all types of smell poetry to share and read. This list of poems is composed of the works of modern poets of PoetrySoup. Read short, long, best, famous, and modern examples for smell. Read More. Sweet vibes waft up with the spicy smell of the feast. Abu plans another plaza above the dunes in Dubai.

poems about smell

As Rome Burns Alarm bells sound at the sight and smell of flames burning on the distant horizons of my soul and they bring them great reason for concern as an uneasy awareness comes to light that I have at last reached the Cthulu lurks in the evil cabin in the words Cthulu lurks in the evil cabin in the words Deep in the bayous of Louisiana sits an abandoned cabin in the swamps the cabin is inhabited by an ancient evil creature newly risen from the depths of hell He has taken over the Mermaid 'There she was, Lying underneath the sun, Her skin-- As if a crystalline affair, Her hair-- That makes you want to-- Ruffle it to its core, Eyes that twinkle, With a glint of serenity, Her smell-- That would take you into a different dimension.

And as I inched further, Time came to Lilacs Lilac bush full spring's ties to nature's core. Buds that clarify smell Sweet layers of scent weaponry. Panoply burst of blooms modesty displaced. Flower cradles The Coffee Mug The coffee mug filled with hot Bru Does not rattle as it sits Upon the table facing the wind Fierce and cold It waits for me to pick it up, Take a sip and enjoy its warmth.

The words I use why do Oil of Oregano Running a fever which mocked her she took ibuprofen and a bath. Wondering, should she call the doctor, she decided on a cheaper path. Oven-baked in a shop just A Welcomed Haunting I am haunted awakened by the smell of your perfume by the sound of your voice by the soft warmth of your skin against mine Haunted am I yet bound bound to that world apart that land of dreams that place in which you find me that time The disgrace continues Life is a Dream of chocolate covered trees life is a dream of chocolate covered trees makes me so hungry to eat the trees dark brown chocolate covered trees as I eat them I hear the crunch of the leaves and smell the dark chocolate smells feeling the leaves in my mouth as The One I Love I look to the one I love and ponder what I'm feeling: I see the arms that hold me tight Connected to the big yet gentle hands The system that hugs away my fright I hear the heart that makes mine race Pumping blood throughout Not by the aid of photography But by capturing and saving it in the memory that never gets full For when you want to relive it you can just think about it Then All Out of Soap My chores are all done, what now shall I do?

I woke up this morning face down in the grass.

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