Green, cold passionless fragrance
gaze frozen in a forbidden orient
where mint essences are dancing...
Green tempting juicy fruit
serpent of origins, mystery...
Green, reflection of the river
depth of mother source
freshness purifier
sand riders banners ,
persian cat lazzy grand vizir
with emerald eyes ,fairyland ...
West country moors
sunset,forests,ponds and marshes
there ,where wandering souls
and lost spirits run...
Green,with magic and madness ,
absinthe you devour the poet torn soul...
Green ''Vol de nuit de Guerlin ! ''
Fresh grass ,morning dew
floreal exhilaration, divine grace,
springtime youth, twin complicity...
Mixing of opposites ,when blue and yellow
blend to create a nuanced sweet and sunny note...
Green,you put on honeysuckle pearls
a drop of'' Anais Anais de Cacharel ! ''
Eau de délice ...
Young lady, I love smelling the verdant dizziness
of your secret zen garden ...
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Author:
lorenz (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: September 25th, 2024 02:29
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 9
- Users favorite of this poem: Ellen Marsell
Offline)
Comments2
Nothing can be as peaceful as a green field, but at the same time nothing can be as wild as forests flaming with green fire...
"...cold and icy--" eh? That initial assessment plaguing me to the very passionate conclusion, whose subtle flame melted the other until it vapourized, still haunts me. Mint will swear on it, yet I must disagree. Envy burns stronger than most else yet does not stand against jealousy, and green perpetually warming the soul even in bitter climes cannot truly be icy, rather the strength of its fire seems thus. Fascinating and intriguing, thank you for sharing.
''Icy" was a strong word (perhaps more suited to a blue fragrance ?)So I've changed my introduction .Thanks for your comment which I've taken into account .
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