The lofty scent wafted heavenward,
. . . as though on uplifted wings;
The heavenly odor returning homeward,
. . . as its essence freely sings;
Cascades of flowers appear stalwart,
. . . inviting comments their pungent smell brings;
The infant buds reach forward,
. . . responding to the mystical light that from the dawn springs.
All the wondrous perfumes of the earth,
. . . emanate from the portal of God’s divine nose;
Just as all the rainbows of earth’s summer storms,
. . . shine the color spectrum from God’s divine eyes.
All the magnificent sounds heard within Nature’s calling,
. . . echo the rhythms and melodies of the celestial choir;
Just as all the culinary taste experiences of the world,
. . . prefigure the conscious awakening that our hearts desire.
Spirits have been known to emanate a distinctive scent,
. . . a cool wind has been known to denote where ghosts went;
Even spirits both living and beyond the grave,
. . . have taken up residence within scent to impersonate a knave.
The patriarch Jacob suffered greatly when he heard of son Joseph’s demise,
. . . but knew his son to be alive from the scent of his shirt in disguise;
The black stone of Makkah is reported to have fallen down from celestial skies,
. . . whose heavenly scent bedazzles the nose with their heavenly highs.
The wisdom of scent inevitably tells us something of our world,
. . . that we would not otherwise come to know;
The smell of musk speaks of the earth and wild deer in the Siberian wood,
. . . while eucalyptus denotes freshness found within winter snow.
Peppermint reminds us of the exquisite, curative quality of mint,
. . . and represents a cross between watermint and spearmint;
Camphor is known for its medicinal and ceremonial properties,
. . . while the florals are universally known for their beatific qualities.
The wisdom of scent has informed humanity down through history,
. . . of the olfactory experiences that await us on the other side of reality.
The exquisite beauty of the rose lies in the intoxicating quality of its smell,
. . . that infiltrates the inner sanctum of the mind with the clarity of a bell.
Incense has been known to elevate the mind clear to the Heavenly gates,
. . . its calligraphic smoke rising into the nose to recall the Paradise that awaits.
All the perfumes of the angelic hosts within range in the heavens high above,
. . . cannot match the range and diversity of the wisdom of scent here below.
An eloquent reminder to me of why I buy fresh Oriental Star Gazer Lilies every week, fill my 7 vases, and enjoy their fragrance throughout the week. Yes, the olfactory sense is one of the senses that derives its value wholly on the air we breath. Thank for posting.
You have covered scentogriaphy very well. My olfactory memory was spurred by every line. It is interesting that most of these are used for communication and reproduction, essential for the plant or animal to survive. I find camphor quite annoying and not the medicine it is purported to be. I also find many perfumes and natural flower scents offensive. But I'm not allergic to them, just irritated.
When I smell a rat, I know I'm smelling a ghost because the rat is inevitably dead.
A person can smell something, and it takes them back in time, remembering the first time they smelled it. Many scents are pleasant but then there are scents like skunk that we can do without. Too bad this wasn't a scratch and sniff poem.
Ah, John without scent what in the world would we do? Scent is such an ongoing thing, we hardly recognize its value, except you did in the poem, didn't ya? Eh . . . a woman's scent is both heavenly, earthbound and sensuous!
You covered a subject dear to my heart--fragrance. I've plucked a rose from your poem: The exquisite beauty of the rose lies in the intoxicating quality of its smell ... one of the most intoxicating nuances of the roses is that emanated from the wild sea roses which grow rampantly along the shore.
Robin Ouzman Hislop's poetry is certainly in dialogue with some of the key architects of the 'poetics of indeterminacy' – both the Modernist strands represented by the likes of Beckett and Stein, and the postmodernist strands represented, initially,
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When I smell a rat, I know I'm smelling a ghost because the rat is inevitably dead.
Ron
Michael D.
. . . emanate from the portal of God’s divine nose;"
Amazing, isn't it? I wondered one day, 'Who came up with all of these different smells?'. I thought of my tea rose while reading this.
Love ya!
Jane