Foreign

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Carillon
Carillon
2 Followers

Perhaps we have never spoken because
Canadian tongues buck uneasily
around the vowels of your name.

Or does long silence
outweigh deep-eyed glances
tossed through open doorways?

What incense fills your hall,
my mind,
shadows me to class?

A fog of apple and cinnamon
floats heavily, with a trace
of another spice my language
has not yet claimed
and named.

Your scent melts in my mouth,
makes dragon breath in my veins
through fifty minutes
of aromatic hydrocarbons

but I am still waiting
for chemistry to discover your secret,
though my nose found it weeks ago.

I wonder –
If asked, would you give up
the recipe of your scent?
And what would it mean? A map
of a land I have never visited.

Carillon
Carillon
2 Followers
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7 Comments
CaribbeanwomanCaribbeanwomanover 14 years ago
you are an artist

You are an artist, painting vivid scenes in the mind of the reader. Keep it up.

LeBrozLeBrozabout 16 years ago
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This poem was selected from Lit's archive of over 39,000 poems for inclusion in today's Archival Review.<br>

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LeBrozLeBrozabout 16 years ago
██

Haunting and seductive imagery {and scents, perhaps?}.

annaswirlsannaswirlsover 19 years ago
mmmmm

I have also enjoyed your poetry-- this one delves into that understanding we have of the science around us, the understanding buried so deep that we cannot explain.

well done

I want hot apples

thank you

Maria2394Maria2394over 19 years ago
:)

I like this one, a lot, but a couple things bug me, first, this line is in my opinion, a hinderance---though my nose found it weeks ago.

and the last two lines, ""...and what would it mean?"" I think this line is unnecessary, dont ask me what it means, show me, you tell that its a map, let me feel the bumps in the road, please dont assume that i know where they are:rose:

I have truly enjoyed all your poems so far, this is also very good :)

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