Friday 29 January 2016

Who needs Dr Who?

When a memory catches me off-guard the culprit is often a scent or smell and the result is time travel without Dr Who's time travel machine.
Who needs Tardis when a whiff of coconut can transport you  through time and relative dimension to your first encounter with coconut shower gel circa 1978 or to a cheap beach package holiday in Rimini  spent basking in swathes of coconut oil?

Here's a poem that wafted out of the scent of a flower.
First published in The Cork Literary Review,Vol. IV


I didn’t want to be the little old lady who ends her days
pouring over a box of broken hearts
And so
I burnt, threw out, disposed of, as appropriate
All of you

One day
I stirred up a pot of dried flowers

And with just one motion of the finger
I conjured up

I had worn honeysuckle
That day

Next day I went out and bought a box of them
I planted them two feet apart
Three sides of my back garden.

And when I’m a little old lady
People will wonder why
I pour over leaves of honeysuckle.

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