Haibun for an unpleasant discovery

I was hanging up the washing in the veranda because it was freezing and looked like rain and noticed an atrocious stink of very fresh cat doo-doo. So, when I’d finished with the washing I cleaned both cat trays, though there wasn’t much out of the ordinary in them. Went into the study, sat down and sniffed. Same stink of cat poo. Inspected all feet and paws, couldn’t find anything, then husband asked if it might be him. He was right. He’d tried an unnamed aftershave sample he’d found in the bottom of his sponge bag. If the sample had had a name, I’d have published it, with a health warning.

earth scents even
beneath the frost distilling
spring perfumes

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Perfume

For the dverse prompt. The perfume brand names seemed to follow a theme, as you’d expect. I used quite a few of them in this poem.

 

I push the red door,

the allure of opium,

and untold desire

draw willing flesh.

White linen, yours, languid,

and in the half-dark,

your insolent eyes

reveal an ambush.

White shoulders mine,

blood diamonds in my hands,

I drift to you,

my obsession,

my midnight poison.

Night blooms

A villanelle inspired by the glorious perfume of wistaria that fills the house at the moment.

 

The night air’s full of the headiest scent,

From the trailing vines round the arbour seat,

I still see the blooms though the light is spent.

 

Moonlight falls silver where dark clouds are rent,

And the owls are drunk drinking nectar neat,

The night air’s full of the headiest scent.

 

Your eyes said one thing, but not what you meant,

Beneath the vines where in springtime we’d meet,

I still see the blooms though the light is spent.

 

I touched your dark face but you’d not relent,

With heavy heart I admitted defeat,

The night air’s full of the headiest scent.

 

It was I who left with my shoulders bent,

Through the vines the owl swept on wings so fleet,

I still see the blooms, though the light is spent.

 

You took the sun from the sky when you went,

The moon and its silver where soft feathers beat,

But I still have the vines, their heady scent,

I still see the blooms, though the light is spent.

 

 

 

Haiku challenge: Style & Fresh

My entry for Ronovan’s weekly haiku challenge.

Fresh cut flowers grace

the empire style hall table

bright with rose petals.