Poems for a perfumed world
Carpe Diem has an interesting article on using all our senses to describe the world and not just sight and sound. How often are we conscious of the smell of a scene? Do we reach out and touch something to find out its texture? I love to touch the petals of flowers and their leaves – the variety of texture in the natural world is amazing.
Out of this comes a challenge to write about smell, and I’ve tried to do it justice.
The van, driven past
the wood’s edge, stirs up scents
of damp earth and rich green.
Reading the poems already posted suggests that most people concentrate on the perfume side of this sense, as I’ve done. One day, maybe, I’ll write about the stink of sewage – would that be in the spirit of haiku?