Early this morning
Early this morning
when you waked me up
I experienced your tender smell
like a garden of fresh flowers blooming
and your hot soft body were clinging to mine
and your breath was fresh like apples
in a orchard
but your eyes my love, flamed
as if being on fire
and something indescribable were
between the two of us
and some people call it love
but I know
that it was much more.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Related quotes
I am empty, old, poor, but smell good
got a fresh one... everytime we look for food,
vegetable, milk, fish, and even our eyes want
to see fresh beautiful women and handsome
gentlemen... a part of us is something that
tells that we came from fresh origin
remember when the first time we meet our
husband and wife... they were so sweet and
tender.... like a first morning dew, waiting the
early morning to come, beneath the horizon
dawn of the earth and sky
it is the present that tells the past, for today
is the present and it tells that iam fresh until
you lost your appetite of what is today
today is what you saw, in the yesteryear's, for
it does not close my dear, it is only your eyes
that closed, ages... is moment to live....a state
of wisdom to share...a grit.... to hold on too..
with you
as you steer at me...iam old....rotten...broken...
yet so sweet to smell... like as years gone-by,
the smell remind you the fragrance you want...
is yourself that lives in me......it is in me that.....
is in you.... we smell
poem by Antonio Liao
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I Be Or Don't Be (A Song)
I be or don’t be
Would be spreading whiff
As a blossom, As a bud
In the orchard of love
I be or don‘t be
Whatever the weather
I always will be there
To keep the orchard fresh
And in colour of desire
Will be watering it ever
As a blossom as a bud
The orchard of love
I be or don’t be
I will unfurl my shirt
And sway in the breeze
Will glow like flower
On the blossom trees
Would spread fragrance
As a blossom as a bud
In the garden of love
I be or don’t be
When I won’t be there
Her eyes with tears
Would be finding me
She would stop in reverie
Where I will meet her
As a blossom, as a bud
In the orchard of love
I be or don’t be
poem by S.D. Tiwari
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Walking Ahead.....
early mind so fresh, telling
new ideas
with new, way of how to
win a living
sweet fresh of saliva; fresh
smell, true
deodorant of an early
morning fumes,
a style that
need not a gargle
with eyes half awake, the
heart that makes
a break, and
the body wet, take a
little burp for a little dandy
step by steps move
your feet
ahead, forward
with hands in fit, distance
squeeze and jump for
sweat
looks what you see
your
path make its way
i'am moving
on ahead of you
poem by Antonio Liao
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August Mornings
On a fine August morning
As I stand before the clearing
I would see the dappled clouds in the east
Turning orange-red.
I would then see
A round red ball rising up slowly
And would close my eyes in her honor.
In response, she would send
The first rays of her light to kiss me.
Fresh breezing air from the garden
Would then hurry up to hug me.
August mornings are lovelier like my mum
They are fresh and tender like her love
They are caring like her hands.
So what if my mum is far away in the east
I keep getting her call
Every morning when
The first rays of the sun kiss me with love.
poem by Krishna Sharma
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A Never Ending Kind Of Intimate Thing
Your white body lies like a continent
with breasts as hillocks, slender thighs
and the valleys somewhere in between
while tiny shadows fall in the afternoon.
I bury myself with great pleasure in you,
feel the warmth of your blazing volcano,
reach up to the centre core of my existence
and each and every glance in your bright eyes
draws me deeper, draws us still closer together
and the lost of self, where nature flees from me
there is a tender kind of peace at twilight
while we love each other past all feelings.
There is peace in the separation that comes later,
the separation of skin, of thighs of genitalia
but still your gaze were burning into my very soul
and I love you; love every part of your body,
with the smell of love like fresh rain around us
rising from the rose of your tender hot pubis,
with nipples still somewhat hardened aroused
on your soft firm breast that are fragile to touch.
Boundless desire flames again and again,
while your beauty bringing sheer joy,
bringing a kind of very deep tranquillity,
as if the thirst, the yearning for each other
is a never ending kind of intimate thing,
that always exists, with a kind of grace,
that has an infinite kind of ache for fulfilment
a kind of indescribable joy that comes with bliss.
poem by Gert Strydom
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When The İrises Bloomed At The End Of Summer
When the irises bloomed at the end of summer,
in radiant bright colours
and the evening star was out early
with the blue in the sky wavering
I was mourning the day I lost you
in a similar setting,
but then it was early spring
with all the blooming flowers inviting
me to look at them,
to smell their fresh aromas
and you were lost to me
as if somebody had picked you.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Scents... ' (or) Tea - Baby
S
C
E
N
T
S
I So, Love The Scent, of A Fresh, Cup Of Tea
Like, I Love The Smell, of A Fresh-Bathed Baby
Both, Are So Very Delicate, Soothing & Sweet
Both, Are A Unique, Fragile-Moment Complete
And With Rose Petals and Soft Lavender Scents
And Apple-Blossoms, Honey and Fresh Peppermint
All Come In Lotions Or Talc-Powder For Baby
And In My Teacup, These Aromas Are Tasty
I So Love The Scent of Steeped-Leaf Tea
And A Fresh-Bathed, Gurgling Baby
Come, Sip A Cup of Tea With Me
While I Hold & Sniff The Baby
poem by MoonBee Canady
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Blooming
Spring already
Flowers blooming
Birds humming
Sing their sweet
Sweet song
The air
Full of blossoms
Blooming flowers..
Blooming plants…
Blooming love
Spring is clean..
Spring is fresh…
Spring is that new beginning
We pray for in the end
poem by Alexsis Daniels
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Market Women’s Cries
APPLES
COME buy my fine wares,
Plums, apples and pears.
A hundred a penny,
In conscience too many:
Come, will you have any?
My children are seven,
I wish them in Heaven;
My husband ’s a sot,
With his pipe and his pot,
Not a farthen will gain them,
And I must maintain them.
ONIONS
Come, follow me by the smell,
Here are delicate onions to sell;
I promise to use you well.
They make the blood warmer,
You’ll feed like a farmer;
For this is every cook’s opinion,
No savoury dish without an onion;
But, lest your kissing should be spoiled,
Your onions must be thoroughly boiled:
Or else you may spare
Your mistress a share,
The secret will never be known:
She cannot discover
The breath of her lover,
But think it as sweet as her own.
HERRINGS
Be not sparing,
Leave off swearing.
Buy my herring
Fresh from Malahide,
Better never was tried.
Come, eat them with pure fresh butter and mustard,
Their bellies are soft, and as white as a custard.
Come, sixpence a dozen, to get me some bread,
Or, like my own herrings, I soon shall be dead.
poem by Jonathan Swift
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The Smell of Purple is in the Air
Late Spring, Early Summer
Breeze Blowing Along with the light Misty Rain
Ah.....How wonderful the smell
So Fresh, So Crisp
Reminding Me of Grandma's Homemade Pie
Ah.....That Breeze Blows letting the Smell glisten through the Air
Right into My Window, Soft as a Rabbit's Fur
The Smell of Purple is in the Air
I just lie back on the bed and relax
That smell brings a Calm Peaceful feeling over me
Peace...
Ah....How great that feels...
Wonderful
The Smell of Purple is in the Air
Field of fresh Blueberries...Bushes Full
Sweet, Soft, Spring, Summer
Breeze Blowing, The Mist of Rain
Ah....Bring on the peace...The Wonderful Feeling
Beautiful..... Is that ' The Smell of Purple is in the Air '
poem by Lorene Erwin
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Like A Fresh Brook Flows
Winter is gone.
And again Spring is here...
On the scene.
Dawn leaves its chill to a warming.
As birds are heard chirping.
And all of nature seems to sing.
Smiling faces seen to grace,
In places where we go.
Letting known their feelings shown.
As blooming flowers are exposed.
And laughter shared among the children,
Bring instant memories.
And romance filled remembered dances,
Slowly...
Like a fresh brook in a forest flows.
Winter is gone.
And again Spring is here...
On the scene.
Dawn arrives with Sunrise warmings,
As nature scents with a lingered tingling.
Ah-ee-ah-oh,
As blooming flowers are exposed.
Ah-ee-ah-oh,
And romance again like a fresh brook flows.
Ah-ee-ah-oh,
As blooming flowers are exposed.
Ah-ee-ah-oh,
And romance again like a fresh brook flows.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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A Fresh Graduate With A Scholar Tag
The fresh bread out of the oven,
May smell good, but has to be toasted.
The fresh graduates out of the universities,
May look smart, but have to be experienced.
What knowledge that can be obtained,
Reading through these heaps of books?
What intelligence that can be settled,
Doing all these assignment and paper work?
How efficiently that we are molded,
Attending those seminars and half baked workshops?
How out of world scholars are we,
When the lay man on the sites call us fools?
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Her love
Who waked up the morning shine?
Who waked up?
the love in my heart
soared the feeling of my soul
Oh; the glow of her smile
The glance of her smart
so gentle and tender her smooth
Skin, the golden shining face
of her, and the darkness hair of her
Her lips's callingness love
called life in me
Oh her dress which dressing her
is beauty her dress?
I can't define
if the beauty her or her dress
She waked up in me
the morning rays
whispering the love in me
poem by Sallam Yassin
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Carnations in the garden
There are carnations in the garden
in colours of ruby red,
pure white and blossom pink
and some pink with deep purple inside
and others purple-blue.
I smell the sweet fresh flowers
and look at colours
hue as if by magic
into each other.
Some grow in flowering pots,
some are planted in flowerbeds,
others even in the rock garden
and the flowers at places are mixed
to catch the eye
and everywhere there’s care
and a lot of love
that went into the tending of it.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Closeness
your hand
entwined to my hand
your hair under my chin
your head resting on my chest
you smell my breath
there is no sound from your mouth
you close your eyes and see some trees
and ponds and waterfalls
and birds and clouds and flowers blooming
over a field of green grass
and butterflies and bees
the air you feel is as fresh as the scent of our skins
i caress your arms you let my hands go
you touch my face and then you look at me
we kiss and then we both melt
in paradise.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Italian Myrtles
By many a soft Ligurian bay
The myrtles glisten green and bright,
Gleam with their flowers of snow by day,
And glow with fire-flies through the night,
And yet, despite the cold and heat,
Are ever fresh, and pure, and sweet.
There is an island in the West,
Where living myrtles bloom and blow,
Hearts where the fire-fly Love my rest
Within a paradise of snow-
Which yet, despite the cold and heat,
Are ever fresh, and pure, and sweet.
Deep in that gentle breast of thine-
Like fire and snow within the pearl-
Let purity and love combine,
O warm, pure-hearted Irish girl!
And in the cold and in the heat
Be ever fresh, and pure, and sweet.
Thy bosom bears as pure a snow
As e'er Italia's bowers can boast,
And though no fire-fly lends its glow-
As on the soft Ligurian coast-
'Tis warmed by an internal heat
Which ever keeps it pure and sweet.
The fire-flies fade on misty eves-
The inner fires alone endure;
Like rain that wets the leaves,
Thy very sorrows keep thee pure-
They temper a too ardent heat-
And keep thee ever pure and sweet.
poem by Denis Florence MacCarthy
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Ode to Friendship
This is a special ode to friendship
whispers of urgent telegraphic message
running through the membership
dormant friends given the delet passage
lack the ethos of apt consistency
a few real friends are always contributing
their smiles interest the tendency
not shaky, not silent but always inviting
why do you see my COF and whistle
“Boy! Nice pretty chicks you got smiling there
his only chick slept and on a trestle
I smiled at him, “these are real cool friends here
I trim, water them, always nurture
I must only plant a few flowers I well care for
so that their fresh smells give pleasure
he wept “yours smell sweet, mine like camphor
stop crying Boy! Go back to your garden
trim your flowers, reduce their size take just a few
nurture them well your heart must gladden
to see them flourish well and smell sweet in the dew
the lovely flowers in my COF you do envy
I always pray for, care for, feel for, water with love
tender devotion makes the task less heavy
the gentle breeze cools, so is the smiling sun above
poem by Dela Bobobee
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A Rose-Bud By My Early Walk
A Rose-Bud By My Early Walk
A rose-bud, by my early walk
Adown a corn-enclosèd bawk,
Sae gently bent its thorny stalk,
All on a dewy morning.
Ere twice the shades o' dawn are fled,
In a' its crimson glory spread,
And drooping rich the dewy head,
It scents the early morning.
Within the bush her covert nest
A little linnet fondly prest;
The dew sat chilly on her breast,
Sae early in the morning.
She soon shall see her tender brood,
The pride, the pleasure o' the wood,
Amang the fresh green leaves bedew'd,
Awauk the early morning.
So thou, dear bird, young Jeany fair,
On trembling string or vocal air,
Shall sweetly pay the tender care
That tents thy early morning!
So thou, sweet rose-bud, young and gay,
Shalt beauteous blaze upon the day,
And bless the parent's evening ray
That watch'd thy early morning!
poem by Robert Burns
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Love Asleep
Lay a rose upon your pillow
I watch your breath
futter the petals
To see you sleep
my heart does leap
Your hair
so fair
soft to the touch
I love you so much
I lay down beside you
breath in your smell
your aroma like morning dew
of freshness I can tell
Your heart I will keep
My love is asleep
Your not mine to keep.
RG/NB
poem by Robert Green
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That's It That's All
Back on the scene for ya'll people's delight
You want peace for the people then ya say alright
'Cause George W's got nothing on me
We got to take the power from he
When I'm on the mic I feel good to go
Like a snow day for school with hot cocoa
So don't speak what I heard, just say what I know
And my zodiac sign is Scorpio
Look what the cat dragged in
The creme de la creme without the skin
So take a rest and mind your own biz
And that's it that's all that's all there is
Fresh...fresh...fresh...for you...for you...for you
That's fresh...fresh...fresh...for you...for you...for you
One for Brooklyn, two for Manhattan
Let's go to work, get those hands clappin'
Make you bounce, rock, roll and skate
Don't underrate how I operate
It ain't what you say, it's what you mean
Intention leads to action, that is my theme
So pay attention now as I begin to recap
Puttin' words and ideas stacked back to back
Some rhymes go flat, well mine go fizz
I got no time for the drama 'cause stress is for kids
'Cause when you're dead and buried well you got no biz
And that's it that's all that's all there is
Fresh...fresh...fresh...for you...for you...for you
That's fresh...fresh...fresh...for you...for you...for you
Brand new
The time and place for the mind is here and now
Keep the mind present less to worry about
But like the hammer to the nail hit the nail on the head
Well I don't shoot blanks and I don't shoot lead
Well I'm a freaky streaker like Winnie the Pooh
T-shirt and no pants and I dance the bugaloo
Like George Whipple on New York One
Got a hairy ass and that's no fun
I'm in the rhyme zone a different time zone
And on the microphone you know that I'm at home
It's time we looked past all our differences
An' that's it that's all that's all there is
Come on
Fresh...fresh...fresh...for you...for you...for you
That's fresh...fresh...fresh...for you...for you...for you
An' that's
Fresh...fresh...fresh...for you...for you...for you
That's fresh...fresh...fresh...for you...for you...for you
song performed by by Beastie Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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