Listen now | The Aroma of Words
Another blown out diaper filled me with dread
as I unsnapped all the buttons on your onesie,
untidy in my hope you would not hear the water
filling the stand-alone tub. Into the baby pink plastic
I tipped a whole travel bottle of soap I snatched
from the hospital before we packed up for home.
You- shrieking as the lukewarm bubbles hit your skin,
arching from the water like a trout trying to swim upstream.
Me- crying as I tried to scrub the mess off your skin,
like a child who now has a child, sleepless as the sea.
I wrapped you up in a towel and crawled over
to lean against the wall and placed your hiccuping
body against mine, both of us easing our breaths
by breathing in the shared aroma of each other-
my cheek resting in your hair,
your palm against my rib cage.
Nothing like new baby smell!
Lilac blossoms
Patchouli
Zach’s shirt after a clean sweat
Petunias nodding in the sunshine
Lysol (the smell of death)
The inside of my nose
Fresh-ground coffee in the morning
Clothes that’ve been worn once too many:
The aromas that make up
the continual prayer of life.
.....coffee.......ahhhhh.....
Coffee!!!
Aroma makes me think of sacrifice.
I wish it didn't
but the Old Testament verbiage is engrained in me.
"A pleasing aroma to God."
What does that even mean?
Can God smell my sweat?
Can God smell my tears?
Can he be in the kitchen as I cook my way through abused theology?
If smells contain our earliest memories
I remember shame.
I remember the wrinkled noses at my ways of being a woman.
I am in the kitchen to reclaim aroma.
I am in the kitchen to heal.
The kitchen should never divide genders
but bring together our need for food.
At the table we are equal in our need
for sustenance.
Instead of sacrifice,
may God smell the aroma
of justice
as we gather at the table.
Thanks for this ♥️
You are more than welcome. 💛
I understand this. Thank you.
Thank you, Diane. You are welcome.
Wrinkled hands fly across the counter
Shaping forming crust and lemon
Mixed with strong arms
White crowned fluff on top
And then she careful opens hot oven
Leaning back and gently sliding birthday beauty in
Still can see her standing back hands on hips
Smiling satisfied as slowly pie aroma
Fills each corner of the house
With love.
I've been visited by their scent before when I was alone in a room not a bloom in sight
nor any other explanation
Some say that was the love of an angel
or an ancestor
encouraging me when I was tired, lonely or maybe just doing laundry
also when I rush-brush by them on the front walk
haughty pink, scarlet and my favorite one
with sunset in the center
they bear the aroma of Queens
and the thorny vine attempting to choke my roses out
will not be tolerated-
no weeds allowed to grow among them, awaiting some Greater day when all shall be made right
Not with these.
Our apocalypse has already come.
Aroma
When I smell cookies baking
When I’m preparing a meal for the family
And they say “something smells so good”
Sautéing garlic in butter, my favorite
Such an aroma of love
Memories are remembered
And hopefully brings us to love
Garlic and butter YESSS
They say much of our memory is rooted in our sense of smell.
That's why certain aromas can transport us to a different place and time,
like how banana bread brings me to my childhood home, baking with my mother;
lavender and rose bring me to my aunt's home, my second mom;
lilac brings me to my first home, where we lived when my firstborn came earth-side, where so much of her - our - growing happened.
Aroma is a conduit for memory, love, life;
a connection to the past, grounding in the present, and a future window to some of our most important moments.
It's no wonder that candles, flowers, herbs, and spices are used for spells;
aroma is magic.
Aroma is magic. yes!
:Smell:
.money.
.trouble.
.fear.
.bullshit.
.a rat.
:aroma:
.joy.
.love.
.peace.
amen.
What’s that cookin?
Oh, nothing much,
Just the aroma of love!!!!😃🤣😌😗😗😜😆
Love this!!!
Aaahhhh!!
In that instant
taken to the past
to Grandma's
with hot apple dumplings and a hint of cinnamon
to an amazing sunset in Key West
the fresh beach air with a scent of the sea
to angles and dangles on the sub
with the chemical smell of diethylamine
that scrubs the CO2 from the air
to the peace of Christmas Eve worship
candles burning throughout the sanctuary
to the Jordanian restaurant with the bumper cars
thanks to middle Eastern flowers and spices
Open the door to memories locked away
Where does aroma take you?
Babies are born with two strong senses,
Smelling & listening
My newborn knew my voice, my smell, a homecoming
How marvelous that the aroma of an areola is amniotic fluid
The waters that kept them, fed them, held them
Two intertwining humans
Latched in love, and lineage
My infants' head, the scent of sweetness I will never forget
My body, a fountain of nourishment
A safe place for returning
Again & again.
The crab is peeling my shell, and the notebook is writing about me.
I fell all over the sky on the snowflakes.
And you miss me
Spice rising from the dirt
Aroma rising from the spice
Entering into our nostrils
And returning us to the dirt
Which is our bodies
Coffee brewing in the morning after a hard night at work
Lavender (like she grew)
The lobby of every VA hospital
Newborn baby hair on the second day of life
My wife’s neck
Perfume, a gift to a broken student
Wounds with pseudomonas (once you learn it, you’ll never miss it)
Crisp mornings of first snow
Good wine
Rocks after a rain
Star jasmine on a morning walk
Stardust.
Lovely. ♥️👏🏼
Scent stores memories
Thank you limbic system
With one deep inhale I can be transported
Back through time
To the back patio of my grandma’s
To the slum in Zambia
To that small Episcopal church
To a barn full of books
Stronger than any picture in my mind
Any voice in my ear
Any taste in my mouth
So when you see my suddenly stop in my tracks
I’m okay
I’m just
Remembering
Any chance you will compiles all of this month's poems into a book or collection?
I'd certainly love to do that! I'll look into it.
I'd buy it! As it is I am saving these everyday and going to print them out. I am a better poetry reader than poetry writer. I write mostly long rambling blog posts ;)
Good idea!
Another blown out diaper filled me with dread
as I unsnapped all the buttons on your onesie,
untidy in my hope you would not hear the water
filling the stand-alone tub. Into the baby pink plastic
I tipped a whole travel bottle of soap I snatched
from the hospital before we packed up for home.
You- shrieking as the lukewarm bubbles hit your skin,
arching from the water like a trout trying to swim upstream.
Me- crying as I tried to scrub the mess off your skin,
like a child who now has a child, sleepless as the sea.
I wrapped you up in a towel and crawled over
to lean against the wall and placed your hiccuping
body against mine, both of us easing our breaths
by breathing in the shared aroma of each other-
my cheek resting in your hair,
your palm against my rib cage.
Nothing like new baby smell!
Lilac blossoms
Patchouli
Zach’s shirt after a clean sweat
Petunias nodding in the sunshine
Lysol (the smell of death)
The inside of my nose
Fresh-ground coffee in the morning
Clothes that’ve been worn once too many:
The aromas that make up
the continual prayer of life.
.....coffee.......ahhhhh.....
Coffee!!!
Aroma makes me think of sacrifice.
I wish it didn't
but the Old Testament verbiage is engrained in me.
"A pleasing aroma to God."
What does that even mean?
Can God smell my sweat?
Can God smell my tears?
Can he be in the kitchen as I cook my way through abused theology?
If smells contain our earliest memories
I remember shame.
I remember the wrinkled noses at my ways of being a woman.
I am in the kitchen to reclaim aroma.
I am in the kitchen to heal.
The kitchen should never divide genders
but bring together our need for food.
At the table we are equal in our need
for sustenance.
Instead of sacrifice,
may God smell the aroma
of justice
as we gather at the table.
Thanks for this ♥️
You are more than welcome. 💛
I understand this. Thank you.
Thank you, Diane. You are welcome.
Wrinkled hands fly across the counter
Shaping forming crust and lemon
Mixed with strong arms
White crowned fluff on top
And then she careful opens hot oven
Leaning back and gently sliding birthday beauty in
Still can see her standing back hands on hips
Smiling satisfied as slowly pie aroma
Fills each corner of the house
With love.
I've been visited by their scent before when I was alone in a room not a bloom in sight
nor any other explanation
Some say that was the love of an angel
or an ancestor
encouraging me when I was tired, lonely or maybe just doing laundry
also when I rush-brush by them on the front walk
haughty pink, scarlet and my favorite one
with sunset in the center
they bear the aroma of Queens
and the thorny vine attempting to choke my roses out
will not be tolerated-
no weeds allowed to grow among them, awaiting some Greater day when all shall be made right
Not with these.
Our apocalypse has already come.
Aroma
When I smell cookies baking
When I’m preparing a meal for the family
And they say “something smells so good”
Sautéing garlic in butter, my favorite
Such an aroma of love
Memories are remembered
And hopefully brings us to love
Garlic and butter YESSS
They say much of our memory is rooted in our sense of smell.
That's why certain aromas can transport us to a different place and time,
like how banana bread brings me to my childhood home, baking with my mother;
lavender and rose bring me to my aunt's home, my second mom;
lilac brings me to my first home, where we lived when my firstborn came earth-side, where so much of her - our - growing happened.
Aroma is a conduit for memory, love, life;
a connection to the past, grounding in the present, and a future window to some of our most important moments.
It's no wonder that candles, flowers, herbs, and spices are used for spells;
aroma is magic.
Aroma is magic. yes!
:Smell:
.money.
.trouble.
.fear.
.bullshit.
.a rat.
:aroma:
.joy.
.love.
.peace.
amen.
What’s that cookin?
Oh, nothing much,
Just the aroma of love!!!!😃🤣😌😗😗😜😆
Love this!!!
Aaahhhh!!
In that instant
taken to the past
to Grandma's
with hot apple dumplings and a hint of cinnamon
to an amazing sunset in Key West
the fresh beach air with a scent of the sea
to angles and dangles on the sub
with the chemical smell of diethylamine
that scrubs the CO2 from the air
to the peace of Christmas Eve worship
candles burning throughout the sanctuary
to the Jordanian restaurant with the bumper cars
thanks to middle Eastern flowers and spices
Open the door to memories locked away
Where does aroma take you?
Babies are born with two strong senses,
Smelling & listening
My newborn knew my voice, my smell, a homecoming
How marvelous that the aroma of an areola is amniotic fluid
The waters that kept them, fed them, held them
Two intertwining humans
Latched in love, and lineage
My infants' head, the scent of sweetness I will never forget
My body, a fountain of nourishment
A safe place for returning
Again & again.
The crab is peeling my shell, and the notebook is writing about me.
I fell all over the sky on the snowflakes.
And you miss me
Spice rising from the dirt
Aroma rising from the spice
Entering into our nostrils
And returning us to the dirt
Which is our bodies
Coffee brewing in the morning after a hard night at work
Lavender (like she grew)
The lobby of every VA hospital
Newborn baby hair on the second day of life
My wife’s neck
Perfume, a gift to a broken student
Wounds with pseudomonas (once you learn it, you’ll never miss it)
Crisp mornings of first snow
Good wine
Rocks after a rain
Star jasmine on a morning walk
Stardust.
Lovely. ♥️👏🏼
Aroma
Scent stores memories
Thank you limbic system
With one deep inhale I can be transported
Back through time
To the back patio of my grandma’s
To the slum in Zambia
To that small Episcopal church
To a barn full of books
Stronger than any picture in my mind
Any voice in my ear
Any taste in my mouth
So when you see my suddenly stop in my tracks
I’m okay
I’m just
Remembering
Any chance you will compiles all of this month's poems into a book or collection?
I'd certainly love to do that! I'll look into it.
I'd buy it! As it is I am saving these everyday and going to print them out. I am a better poetry reader than poetry writer. I write mostly long rambling blog posts ;)
Good idea!