Posts Tagged ‘scent’

Finding The Divine Lotus: Revolutionary Blogging Free Verse Poem

July 31, 2016

working in a new ,
central mountain desert Temple,
noticed a carved symbol
high on Godly walls.

The lotus blossom,
not seen locally.
“International symbol
of the divine”
I was told.
8 petals,
gorgeously carved.
But why there?
Why that Buddhist symbol
in the Beehive state?

I was amused,
thinking “How silly
to use a blossom
so distant,
so unconnected,
so foreign.”

Summer drew me east,
away from that desert temple,
to the Midwest,
to the muddy creek
that had been my contemplative home,
my temple of solitude and thought
growing up.

Paddling up river
after heat,
muggy weather,
I noticed large water pads,
never before seen
in my decades in the swamp.

Then something newWhite lotus, symbol of the Buddha, reaching heavenward out of the muck in Mud Creek, Lake Winneconne, Wisconsin
rose up.
Coming out of the mud,
the decay,
through the water,
reaching heavenward,
large pods.

They opened,
eight petals,

The scent,
took my mind
and soul
even farther heavenward.

sitting in my canoe,
my portable temple,
eyes overwhelmed,
nostrils overcome,
soul purified,
I understand why
lotus is divine
whether in the desert
or the marsh
or the Ganges.


I Sent No Scent: Romantic ImproVerse Rhyming Haiku Lament

April 10, 2013

Raindrops on a Red Rose in DallasI took this picture;/
thought of you. Now I’ve no one /
I can send it to.

How I Sometimes Wake Up Alone: Romantic ConTEXTing Haiku Laments

August 13, 2012

The following is a series of haiku I wrote this morning, all with a similar theme.

Promises Unfulfilled 7:33 a.m.
With beauty the Rose /
beckoned me. When I bent for /
her scent, there was none.

I’m Back In The USA! So? 7:43 a.m.
What’s good in being/
back when there’s still a lack of /

My Drug, Your Addiction 7:47 a.m.
You are still my drug,/
as I’m still your addiction./
The difference? I write.

Truly Too Busy For Me 7:59 a.m.
I knew that you were/
too busy for me. Still, I /
had hoped otherwise.

Maybe She Intensity 8:02 a.m.
Someday, maybe, my /
deep intensity will be /
attractive to she.

How Can You? Romantic IMprov Poetry

July 18, 2011

How can you make me laugh
in the midst of romance?

How can you take the cold, clammy fear
in my hands, feet and forehead,
and turn it into emotions flaming up
from deep in my heart?

How can you take my tears of pain
and, in a few words,
make me weep with joy and relief?

How can you make me miss you so?

How can you hold me
and rock me gently to sleep
with just a few typed or spoken words?

How can you, with the skill of a cardiac surgeon,
open up my chest
and expose all my innermost hopes,
dreams and feelings…
without hurting or scaring or bruising my heart?

How can you, when my heart aches
and when butterflies dance nervously in my stomach,
reach across the hills, lakes and rivers
and apply soothing balm,
calming the butterflies
and soothing the aches?

How can you make my brain remember
every nuance of your scent,
every wisp of your hair,
every touch of your hand,
the feel of your skin,
your curves,
your breath?

How can you do that?

Frag’ nicht warum.
Sei einfach froh,
daB es ist so.

Lavender Mind Memories: Revolutionary ConTEXTing Haiku

May 20, 2011

Sweet lavender scent./
Memories stretch like spun silk./
They wrap ’round my mind.

Foto Flowers From Far Away: Revolutionary ConTEXTing Rhyming Haiku

May 9, 2011

Daffodils reflecting in a Wisconsin pond
Foto flowers from/
far away, sent without scent, /
still say: “Happy Day!”

You Overwhelm Roses Of Red: Romantic ConTEXTing Poetry

April 2, 2011

Roses of red,/
violets of blue;/
blooms whose heads/
show ev’ry hue/
and sweet scent known,/
pale and wither/
when your beauty is shown/
and your fragrance delivered.

Chicago Deep Dish No Scent Can Be Sent: Revolutionary ConTEXTing Poetry Lament

August 12, 2010

Chicago Deep Dish Pizza Sent No Scent
Of the pizza no taste/
nor scent/
can be sent./
Such a waste!/
What a Pity!/
It’s soo deep-dish pretty.

Sonnet of a rose unnoticed: Revolutionary Sonnet

July 31, 2010

Of all the garden’s fair blossoms, I thought she
Stood apart as beauty’s blessed epitome`:
A rose whose fresh scent and color of deep pink
Would cause passers-by to stop, stare, and think.

Or so ran my thoughts and reasoned story
As I stood in the garden shadow of her glory.
I, whose visage and carriage drew nary a look,
who was frequently passed by in my garden nook.

Until I realized, at last, one summer’s day,
That my passers-by also ignored her on their way.
And the pain and rejection I owned so deeply
Was felt by this fair rose just as bitterly.

I learned that no matter how fair or common we as roses may be,
Our beauty fades, wilts and dies when we’re ignored completely.