Harboring Hyacinths Fist-thick cobs could well Collapse under the weight Of their fragrant muscle; Curdled pink and purple Pestles that split the tender Lip of bulbs, and, in one Thrust, choked, swallowed And sweetened air. Now Embolden, become near- Perennial squatters by the Bay window; daylong Appeal to smell mostly With a raw, unremitting Redolence as if they knew The sense most easily seduced And addicted to their presence And so overlook their sins of Excess and untimely hope; Would …
Tag: Nature
“Italian Sunday” * Poetry * Diane Kane
Sunday morning quiet Open cans of tomato Puree, chopped, and paste. Only Contadina will do. Garlic, oregano, palm Full of sugar. Mix, check Flame, place cover askew. Remove ground Hamburg From brown paper wrapper. Room temperature Tan eggs in yellow bowl On Formica table. Time to go to the garden. Snap rubbers over black Shiny shoes. Walk through Dew to where the Green parsley grows. Pinch willowy shoots between Fingernail and thumb. Inhale. Return with bounty Steam drips from …
“The Six Senses Celebrate Rain” * Poetry * Ginger Dehlinger
A curious stillness fills the air, ethereal as a phantom yet a hair’s breadth from corporeal. My brain prickles with elation as all of my sensory receptors anticipate the electric change about to happen. The miracle begins in the distance as a pale, ragged scarf of chiffon. It arrives swollen with liquid silver that rolls off the tongues of aspen leaves, pock-marks the dust, dimples the surface of a pond. My outstretched hands welcome the nourishing moisture. Twirling in crystal …
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Emily Dickinson * Two Poems of Rose & Gentian
“The gentian is a greedy flower,” Emily Dickinson wrote to a friend in the autumn of 1859, “and overtakes us all. Indeed, this world is short, and I wish, until I tremble, to touch the ones I love before the hills are red—are gray—are white—are ‘born again’!” Flowers lace the landscape of Dickinson’s poetry. Botany was one of the rare scientific outlets for women in the 19th century, and Dickinson was versed in the scientific as well as the romantic …
Molly Bloom’s Stream of Consciousness Ends in Flowers & Perfumed Breasts, Excerpt from Joyce’s Ulysses
As I mentioned in Corpse Flower Revisited, I’ve recently reread James Joyce’s Ulysses, and it is the nature of such an encyclopedic book, that each time one reads it, one finds new threads to pull, new aspects to admire. This time I was struck by Molly Bloom’s final words–the last words of the book–that are full of food and flowers, taste and smells–so many of our favorite things at Aromatica Poetica. From the bit of seedcake that she passes to …
Helen Keller on Smell, the Fallen Angel
“SMELL, THE FALLEN ANGEL” is Chapter SIX of The World I Live In (1908), a magnificent book that tells of perceptions beyond seeing and hearing. In it, Helen Keller offers vivid descriptions that blend her practical and poetical appreciation of what is arguably our most undervalued sense. We at Aromatica Poetica present this as one of our foundational texts, alongside Proust’s Madeleine. This was gently edited for apparent scanning errors and the odd British spellings were Americanized. Smell, the Fallen …