Poetry exercise: Theme - Scent and memory
FinsburyParkCarrots
Posts: 12,223
Please write a poem in any form you like, about how a smell brings to mind a vivid memory and sense impression of the past.
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the world changes....
people change....
reality changes.....
you can get on teh number 12 to Peckham,
and sit down beside a woman reading a book on Satan.....
or you can see things that don't exist
like 'Marijuana se Alquiler'
'pot for rent' signs in Madrid.....
and people can hold Satanist cirlces around you
when you're in the Maudsley & Bethlehem Hospital in Camberwell....
but the worst thing about going to Hell
is the godawful smell....
it smells of sulfur and putrifying bodies.....
and if you get to taste it....
you know it'll be over soon.....
Has never had a universal odor
But for me, it's the same every time.
And I don't know the name
Of the aroma she wore that evening
But I catch a draft of it, once in a while.
And the funny thing is,
It wasn't all so great in the end,
But at the moment I smelled that, so much lie ahead.
And so optimism
Has a specific odor,
The smell of new love in springtime.
Why do you build me up, buttercup baby, just to let me down?
I mean to a 19-year-old kid on prom night, optimism can smell like a tasteful, light perfume.
Or rather, the smell of that perfume years later can trigger the memory of optimism.
...tell me my prom date was the poetic equivalent of laundry detergent...
Men, set your sarcasm to "stun."
This thread shows what happens when you take 8 poets, put them in the same thread, and they stop being poets, and start being real.
That's right: The Real World, Poetry and Prose Forum.
smelled of boxes to be opened later
reminds me of her boxes
of pepsi in the basement
to be drunk in the metalllic colored glasses
today
grandma's attic
is someone else's attic
The risk I took was calculated, but man, am I bad at math - The Mincing Mockingbird
if you wanna play games with me.....I'm afraid I'm not biting.....
don't go
down to the crick,
where rat poison spoils each stick,
and young boys and girls are in a state of joy...
please stay,
whisper the calm of a transient day,
stay your course,
press the love which might be coarse,
play on and enjoy...
trick the mind if you must,
lest you deny your crazy lust,
compounds built in a hippy world,
crazed degenerates in a swirl,
focus, forever on your feelings of joy.
As she slams the door in his drunken face
And now he stands outside
And all the neighbours start to gossip and drool
He cries oh, girl you must be mad,
What happened to the sweet love you and me had?
Against the door he leans and starts a scene,
And his tears fall and burn the garden green
so i can sniff
and inhale deeply
of your man smell
the piercing spice
of you alone
makes me weak"
i lov u hony!!
nobody elz
comz clos
freesias and roses....
tonight when I walked to the shops
I heard a baby screaming
and being slapped....
and I shuddered and cringed.....
but I also saw a ripe moon enclouded in spectral mist....
and I smell the gum trees sometimes
and listen to the crickets....
on my walks.....
there's a house on the corner
with tall fences.....
they have roses in the front yard....
the smell is overwhelming on a warm day
I love the smell of freshly cut grass
and freshly washed clothes
and freshly washed hair
and freshly washed babies
wrapped in arms
I love the smell of flowers
and the taste and the colour.....
oh, I wish I had my first book back again....
it was pink......and it was fairytales (no offence)....
I wish I was six
I wish I were small
and could live backwards
and grow forever.....
I want to rule the world.....
and I want death overcome and silly shit
I want Kerouac to be pope.....
I can smell Kerouac
and Steinbeck....
I can smell Cannery Row.....
I can smell War and Peace
I can smell Portuguese coffee......
I hate men that smell like fuk
I remember reading in the Economist
that the pheronomes are really how
we become attracted.....
I hate men that smell wrong
I want to smell good tobacco right now!!!!!
this is great!!!!
olderman is a man for all seasons.....and he knows all the reasons
boys and girls go to play......and he's very very gay!!!!
You might have to move to cuba.
Your poem reminded me of two of my favorite smells -- home.
Books, the smell of walking into a library. I grew up in libraries, that smell is home.
Tobacco, I grew up a little more in the green fields; there is no warmer smell than fields of tobacco; they really do smell like the sun and heat. You can't replicate the smell in a humidor. There just isn't another to match the fields.
poured all over the cement
reminds me of that time last year
when I held you in my arms
and for once in my life,
my God, I had nothing to fear.
I write down good reasons to freeze to death in my spiral ring notebook. But in the long tresses of your hair--I am a babbling brook.
searing moist heat
artificial cool in a cabin
a blanket sledge of heat
moved into from an air curtain
crushed under its intensity
branded by its conviction
weighted into descent
heat that scents itself
ashes in a dish,
try to sleep next to that..
can't move,
nights of black stains,
stun the sciatic nerve..
convulse with discontent,
grasp at the miles ahead,
the green grass above you has been freshly cut..
and it's another night in middle america,
steaks seared to a sizzle,
another bottle of Syrah please..
As she slams the door in his drunken face
And now he stands outside
And all the neighbours start to gossip and drool
He cries oh, girl you must be mad,
What happened to the sweet love you and me had?
Against the door he leans and starts a scene,
And his tears fall and burn the garden green
and darkness smells of a new feeding tube
or a freshly sanitized linoleum floor.
This sterile inhalation (through the mouth only)
cleans out thought
of leaving
the same
as you
were
bef
or
e
.
The risk I took was calculated, but man, am I bad at math - The Mincing Mockingbird
it is true ..
i am a lesbian trapped in a man's body...
As she slams the door in his drunken face
And now he stands outside
And all the neighbours start to gossip and drool
He cries oh, girl you must be mad,
What happened to the sweet love you and me had?
Against the door he leans and starts a scene,
And his tears fall and burn the garden green
Finally! My Dream 8er8 Person! The best of ALL Worlds and what the truly evolved will be.
I can't even begin to TELL you the fantasies I've had about having a lesbian manbody ravaging me - "is that your arm or mine, are those my toes or yours? No matter, we love us!
~ D.D.
wherein youngsters pretend to be soldiers,
defending the old world from an invasion of salted sea dogs,
whose tempered leathered skins,
once ruled the seas and coastlines,
twice ruled the southern plains..
the bodegas now are filled with wine,
gypsies stomp upon the grapes,
such is the scent of Andalusia,
this is my memory,
of the beautiful Senoritas,
dancing Flamenco,
clapping Castanedas,
smiling at me,
a young man,
enthralled
and
in lust
As she slams the door in his drunken face
And now he stands outside
And all the neighbours start to gossip and drool
He cries oh, girl you must be mad,
What happened to the sweet love you and me had?
Against the door he leans and starts a scene,
And his tears fall and burn the garden green