En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Today a Windy Monday

Today a windy Monday,
brisk, businesslike north wind,
I would make a great altar
and pile it high as heaven
with washing straight off the line
shirts like roly-poly hunchback
astronauts like human kites
a sharp flapping of hemmed edges
the squawk of hens surprised
laundry baskets full of the smell
of Spring and freshness and new beginnings
laundry baskets that smell as if
a walk along the shores of love

all Your wind and air and water, and
sunlight soap, soapy sunlight making
iridescent bubbles in the washtub
the squeak of the mangle,
dripping into the sink
stained heavenly with Dolly Blue
the smell of love and motherhood
the hot iron’s steamy smell
the starch, the sharp warm ironed piles
ready for the cupboard shelves

and say, look everyone
this is a woman’s lifetime of unspoken love
see it made of the holy elements themselves
as on the first day of Creation
that is ever a woman’s life

men, worship this

poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Smell Of Love

You left your smell in me
It won’t go with the ashes
I would not let wind carry it away
‘you are in me’, it would say!
When I stop being there
I would hold on to the smell
I would not let time take it away
‘love can’t die anyway’!
Moving around with your smell
Wherever I am heaven or hell
The spring of love would never dry
I would never let it die!

poem by Pradip Chattopadhyay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Smell Of A Woman

The smell of a woman,
When I am down there.
There's nothing on earth,
That quite can compare.
Earthy, moist, steamy, and rare,
Like tropical flowers perfuming the air.
The smell you find, at a womans core,
will make you want her, more, and more.
I can smell a woman across the street,
Way before our eyes will meet.
That delicate scent carried on the breeze,
Coming from a woman, seeking release.
The scent of a woman, when she is in heat,
You'll find yourself commonly looking for it.
And when I find it, it's a matter of time,
Till close up I smell that scent so sublime.
The smell of a woman all over my face,
The sweet scent of a woman, will have me crazed.

Don Juan Tenorio

poem by Don Juan Tenorio
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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That Smell

Whiskey bottles, and brand new cars
Oak tree you're in my way
There's too much coke and too much smoke
Look what's going on inside you
Ooooh that smell
Can't you smell that smell
Ooooh that smell
The smell of death surrounds you
Angel of darkness is upon you
Stuck a needle in your arm
So take another toke, have a blow for your nose
One more drink fool, will drown you
Ooooh that smell
Can't you smell that smell
Ooooh that smell
The smell of death surrounds you
Now they call you Prince Charming
Can't speak a word when you're full of 'ludes
Say you'll be all right come tomorrow
But tomorrow might not be here for you
Ooooh that smell
Can't you smell that smell
Ooooh that smell
The smell of death surrounds you
Hey, you're a fool you
Stick them needles in your arm
I know I been there before
One little problem that confronts you
Got a monkey on your back
Just one more fix, Lord might do the trick
One hell of a price for you to get your kicks
Ooooh that smell
Can't you smell that smell
Ooooh that smell
The smell of death surrounds you
Ooooh that smell
Can't you smell that smell
Ooooh that smell
The smell of death surrounds you

song performed by by 3 Doors Down
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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That Smell

(allen collins - ronnie vanzant)
Whiskey bottles, and brand new cars
Oak tree youre in my way
Theres too much coke and too much smoke
Look whats going on inside you
Ooooh that smell
Cant you smell that smell
Ooooh that smell
The smell of death surrounds you
Angel of darkness is upon you
Stuck a needle in your arm
So take another toke, have a blow for your nose
One more drink fool, will drown you
Ooooh that smell
Cant you smell that smell
Ooooh that smell
The smell of death surrounds you
Now they call you prince charming
Cant speak a word when youre full of ludes
Say youll be all right come tomorrow
But tomorrow might not be here for you
Ooooh that smell
Cant you smell that smell
Ooooh that smell
The smell of death surrounds you
Hey, youre a fool you
Stick them needles in your arm
I know I been there before
One little problem that confronts you
Got a monkey on your back
Just one more fix, lord might do the trick
One hell of a price for you to get your kicks
Ooooh that smell
Cant you smell that smell
Ooooh that smell
The smell of death surrounds you
Ooooh that smell
Cant you smell that smell
Ooooh that smell
The smell of death surrounds you

song performed by by Lynyrd Skynyrd
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Smell Of The Wind

the smell of the wind
consoled some of the tears in my eyes
the smell of the wind
softened some of the pain in my heart

the smell of the wind
lifted my mood by an inche
the smell of the wind
it did something to me

poem by by unknown author
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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New Girl Smell

Houses like limpid shells,
So limpid, smell and taste like their
Previous masters,
Like girls so god-d-mned old;
They no longer smell of the sea
Before it might have been the sea, but of
The wash basins and jet fuel;
They don’t smell like swing sets anymore,
But their daughters are still arcing in
Sunlight:
Their daughters are real play- Just these
Things: believe me, you don’t understand,
Not even if you think you got it on
The tip of your tongue:
Pretty little girls sandcastles, spider-flume,
Arcing in the breaks of God,
But if you lay a hand on them, corrupted:
He will leave them,
This jealously abstaining bachelor:
He will just get on his bike and ride away into
A greener neighborhood;
And all the little girls you’ve seen will settle down
From play.
They will either graduate high school, or
They will not: making love in newer beds further up,
Or their own,
But they will live in their new masters’ homes,
Like dogs’ houses, enchained, washing dishes,
Pulling out laundry like the guts of game,
No longer smelling like how you left them; but of
The dry-walled shells, shellacked,
Landscaped by palms, as with her shampooed pubis;
and though the house
Is beautiful, she goes all day weeping with it
On her back; shopping,
Drinking with her enslaved sororities as if drinking alone,
Never to smell like god, like nothing, ever.

poem by Bret R. Crabrooke
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Like Smells

i like smells...
woodsmoke, and food,
black coffee in the morning.
the smell of rain,
of mud, of wetness.
the smell of the walls
of the cave, of the stone,
of the moss...
the smell of sex, of arousal,
of a woman's neck.
the smell of pine needles,
of an old house,
of fresh turned earth...
the smell of old books,
of old dogs, of shadows
without form...
i've even become accustomed
to the smell of death!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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I Think I Smell A Rat

Oh I think I smell a rat
I think I smell a rat
all you little kids
seem to think you know
just where it's at
I think I smell a rat
walking down the street
carrying a baseball bat
I think I smell a rat
Oh I think I smell a rat
I think I smell a rat
all you little kids
seem to think you know
just where is at
I think I smell a rat
treating your mother and father
like a welcome mat
I think I smell a rat

song performed by by White Stripes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Woman Enough

Because my grandmother's hours
were apple cakes baking,
& dust motes gathering,
& linens yellowing
& seams and hems
inevitably unraveling
I almost never keep house
though really I like houses
& wish I had a clean one.

Because my mother's minutes
were sucked into the roar
of the vacuum cleaner,
because she waltzed with the washer-dryer
& tore her hair waiting for repairmen
I send out my laundry,
& live in a dusty house,
though really I like clean houses
as well as anyone.

I am woman enough
to love the kneading of bread
as much as the feel
of typewriter keys
under my fingers
springy, springy.
& the smell of clean laundry
& simmering soup
are almost as dear to me
as the smell of paper and ink.

I wish there were not a choice;
I wish I could be two women.
I wish the days could be longer.
But they are short.
So I write while
the dust piles up.

I sit at my typewriter
remembering my grandmother
& all my mothers,
& the minutes they lost
loving houses better than themselves
& the man I love cleans up the kitchen
grumbling only a little
because he knows
that after all these centuries
it is easier for him
than for me.

poem by Erica Jong
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Smell Of Money

(intro)
One more day, with a tumble fall,
Down the money pit, with nothing to show
Hey hey yeah
Another twist, in the horror tale
Its an open coffin, that needs one more nail
Smell of money
Maybe Im a victim, (soft silk and bamboo? )
Maybe its the smell of money
Attracts me to you...
Hey hey yeah money
Two clean shirts
Im out on bail
As the barroom baits
They start to wail
The smell of money
Maybe Im a victim, (soft silk and bamboo? )
Maybe its the smell of money,
That brings me to you
Stretched out across the ceiling
? ? domes shimmer and glow
Golden citadels
While the autumn wind billows and flows
(instrumental)
Dancing nights, in the lost and found
Move really nice to that money sound
Smell of money, smell of money,
Smell of money, smell of money
I need
I bleed
(sudden stop)

song performed by by Ufo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Smell Of Money

(intro)
One more day, with a tumble fall,
Down the money pit, with nothing to show
Hey hey yeah
Another twist, in the horror tale
It's an open coffin, that needs one more nail
Smell of money
Maybe I'm a victim, (Soft silk and bamboo?)
Maybe it's the smell of money
Attracts me to you...
Hey hey yeah money
Two clean shirts
I'm out on bail
As the barroom baits
They start to wail
The smell of money
Maybe I'm a victim, (Soft silk and bamboo?)
Maybe it's the smell of money,
that brings me to you
Stretched out across the ceiling
?? Domes shimmer and glow
Golden citadels
While the autumn wind billows and flows
(instrumental)
Dancing nights, in the lost and found
Move really nice to that money sound
Smell of money, smell of money,
smell of money, smell of money
I need
I bleed
(sudden stop)

song performed by by Ufo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Little Soap & Water

Stink like a bear stuck on a tree trunk
Baby you smell like a nasty payment
Wishing you had soap you couldn't buy Old bread in your Ice box
Ted in your knee trunks
Girl your boyfriend got a stinky job
Better then smoking steaks on a grill
You missing new points smoking a bottle
Your woman is a woman that sleeps all night
Know she stinking off her panties
Co patties where you work
Dancing like you twerk
Nasty manager never taking baths
Plane air pollution smell a bird
Oil got my clothes stinking
Go home FizTzle take a bath
She smells you but she work in air conditional
Clean your clothes smell good
America stinks how about you
Smell pollution like I'm smoking
A Little Soap & Water.

poem by Tommy Laster
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The Dirty Laundry Poem

This is the dirty laundry poem-
because we have traveled from town to town
accumulating soiled linen & sweaty shirts
& blue-jeans caked & clotted with our juice
& teeshirts crumpled by our gloriously messy passion
& underwear made stiff by all our joy.

I have come home to wash my clothes.
They patter on the bathroom floor like rain.
The water drips away the days till you.
The dirty water speaks to me of love.

Steamy in the bubbles of our love,
I have plunged my hands into hot water
as I might plunge them
in your heart.

After years of spots & splatters,
I am finally coming clean.
I will fly to you with a suitcase of fresh laundry,
strip my clothes off, heap them on the floor,
& let you scrub my body with your love.

poem by Erica Jong
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Surprise, Surprise )

-"there's a break ev'ry time, there"
-"................?.................."
-"no, oh, i thought it was you, sombody was hangin' over, maybe a foot on the pedal or something"
-"................?.................."
-"well, would you do it, jim? eh, i don't know what you do it on.....yeah!"
-".one, one, two, three, four"
Sweet as the smell of success,
Her body's warm and wet.
She gets me thru this god awful loneliness,
A natural high butterfly.
Oh, i, i need. need, need her.
Just like a willow tree,
A breath of spring, you see.
And, oh boy, you don't know what she do to me,
She makes me sweat, forget who i am.
Oh i, i need, need, need her.
Well, i was wond'rin' how long this could go on,
On and on.
'cause i thought i could never be surprised.
But could it be that i bit my own tongue?
Mm-hmm,
It's so hard to swallow when you're wrong.
A bird of paradise,
Sunrise in her eyes.
God only knows such a sweet surprise,
I was blind, she blew my mind,
Think that i, oh, i love, love, love her.
- "stay on your d! - d! - stay there. hey!"
Sweet, sweet, sweet,
Sweet, sweet smell.
Sweet, sweet, sweet
Such sweet, sweet,
Sweet, sweet smell.
- "ok, thank you! stop! let me just check it

song performed by by Yoko Ono
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Spring In The Air

How can it be, I'm smelling Spring in the air?
There's snow on the ground
and on the trees, everywhere!

Yet the smell of Spring
entered into a sniff of my nose.
As I stood at the sink
up the scent, of Spring had rose.

Is it my girlish heart?
that is wanting this so?
That I smell now it's freshness
in the morn of the air?

I'll keep looking for it
no matter how long it seems to take!
And eventually it will be here
four months of time, and Spring again will awake!

poem by Linda Winchell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Song of Quoodle

They haven't got no noses,
The fallen sons of Eve;
Even the smell of roses
Is not what they supposes;
But more than mind discloses
And more than men believe.

They haven't got no noses,
They cannot even tell
When door and darkness closes
The park a Jew encloses,
Where even the law of Moses
Will let you steal a smell.

The brilliant smell of water,
The brave smell of a stone,
The smell of dew and thunder,
The old bones buried under,
Are things in which they blunder
And err, if left alone.

The wind from winter forests,
The scent of scentless flowers,
The breath of brides' adorning,
The smell of snare and warning,
The smell of Sunday morning,
God gave to us for ours

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

And Quoodle here discloses
All things that Quoodle can,
They haven't got no noses,
They haven't got no noses,
And goodness only knowses
The Noselessness of Man.

poem by G.K. Chesterton
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Song of Quoodle

They haven't got no noses,
The fallen sons of Eve;
Even the smell of roses
Is not what they supposes;
But more than mind discloses
And more than men believe.

They haven't got no noses,
They cannot even tell
When door and darkness closes
The park a Jew encloses,
Where even the law of Moses
Will let you steal a smell.

The brilliant smell of water,
The brave smell of a stone,
The smell of dew and thunder,
The old bones buried under,
Are things in which they blunder
And err, if left alone.

The wind from winter forests,
The scent of scentless flowers,
The breath of brides' adorning,
The smell of snare and warning,
The smell of Sunday morning,
God gave to us for ours

*

And Quoodle here discloses
All things that Quoodle can,
They haven't got no noses,
They haven't got no noses,
And goodness only knowses
The Noselessness of Man.

poem by Gilbert Keith Chesterton
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In the steps of Rumi 87: A Windy Day

Isn’t it a windy day?
The wind gets everywhere,
loves especially to have fun,
enjoys rattling loose doors as if it would come in,
to become a quiet household pet,
or just disappear up the chimney
to meet itself again…

loves corners especially,
piles its toys up in them;
loves robes, veils, laughs, exposing
forbidden body parts;
sweeps the streets clean of plastic bags
then just for fun, blows them around again;

loves especially, laundry on the line –
fills out men’s shirts into dancing fat men;
would wind like to laugh at man?

then from fun play, can get serious –
tests whether that corrugated iron roof
to your makeshift shed is really secure..
later, you may be glad it did...

then from serious to boisterous:
takes on the sea itself, which
likes a bit of fun, but then
gets angry when provoked too much…

then when it’s gone, it’s gone
back to wherever wind comes from…

before it goes, let’s wrap up, take
a laughing walk and tussle with it;
come back, cheeks glowing,
eyes sparkling, laughing,
light-hearted… what did we meet out there?

some say, that wind is really fire,
which stirs our blood like that;
that fire brings life; that life brings spirit;
that spirit is but love; and love,
the breath of gods, of God;
the wind blows where it will.

poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Messenger of Hope

Wind,
No matter how strong,
No matter how little,
Will always,
Mean so much to me.
Wherever I am,
In this unimaginable world,
I can always feel,
The wind,
As it comes and goes,
And travels across,
Your imagination,
Across the oceans,
To a land unknown,
And touches the cheek,
Of another person,
Another life.
Which is why,
I like to believe,
The wind can carry,
Anything and everything.
Like the sound of music,
The smile of a child,
The spirit of an individual,
Or the smell fo something you long,
To smell again,
Like the smell of rain or,
The smell of freedom.
Wind,
Is the Messenger,
Between person to person,
Between place to place.
But for me,
Wind,
Is my Messenger of Hope,
Hope to believe again,
Hope to understand,
Hope that I will return home,
And hope to keep my life intact,
For I never will know these things,
If it weren't for the wind,
My Messenger of Hope.

poem by Music Galore
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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It's Oozing...

I am loving the feel
Of the way
It is oozing...
Wet and Warm,
Soft and Tender,
White and Clear
With a misty smell
Nature's Spell -
Feel at home
With the way
It is oozing...

Drop by Drop,
Flows and Stops
Flows again...
Stops to Pause
And makes me feel
Like an amorous woman.

And then it again
Oozes...
I love the smell
You would too
On such oozing days
I really miss you.
I am sure, you would
Love the taste of it too.

Though I leave it to you
How you would like to
Lip it, Sip it,
Savouring...
Every dropp of it.

Come to me,
When you are thirsty
And I'll quench you.
Do let me know
How best I can serve you.

Would you like to
Follow me down
To drink me divine
From my oozing Yoni?
Or
Would you like to
Explore, finger and feel,
The source of all my oozes,
The smell of all that amuses
The oozing woman in me,
And the thirsting man in you?

Pray, do let me know
How you want to explore -
And I'll take you to the Forest
Deep down there...
And amongst the many,
Soft and tender, supple and slender,
Layers and layers of love and warmth,
You will savour the taste,
The feel and the smell,
Of Nature's Spell -
That succulent, juicy
Nectar of mine
The oozing Amrit
Of my dripping Yoni.

poem by Aparna Chatterjee
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