Don'T Smell The Roses Poem by Eddie Roa
Don'T Smell The Roses
My nose is not with me
even as I felt for it
on my face, it is not there
yet I see the gore putrefying
under the noonday sun,
all around the busy square
without the putrescence
it seemed somewhat appealing.
In the place where I stroll
at the cobbled city hub,
by the banks of a viscous river
unsightly with scraggly lilies,
among urban fecal flotsam
yet without the redolence
my mind anticipated
it looked lovely.
It had an insistent charm,
that I was seeing, feeling
but not smelling,
life couldn't be so bad
without having to smell
the sordid realities at the
edges of our existence.
i think this is very true. if we couldn't smell each other, then probably we'd all be nicer to each other. or at least we wouldn't overreact whenever someone farted.: D very good poem!
the beauty of the senses is that we have them, and it's a gift to be treasured, such as your words are to be treasured.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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12/5/2025 1:19:56 PM # 1.0.0
So true Eddie. My husband doesn't have a good sense of smell, and I often say to him he is lucky to smell certain things that are not at all nice. Great concept and title and great writing too! 10 Karin Anderson