Ambrosial

In my grandmother's garden there was one particular scent that defined childhood to me. Its memory haunts me to this day, in smiles.

    Ambrosial 

    By

      Carlos Lorenzo Estrada 

It was fragrant, attacking, sharp to the nose.

The scent so strong; effusively grows.

Its petals green in veined outlined webs.

The essence of peppermint stays in our heads.

It captures imaginations alluring entrance.

Child's to play and dream perchance?

It reflects our innocence and the passing of time.

A reminder of nature and the finite of rhyme.

Author's Note

I hope this poem brings back to those who read it a particular scent that reminds them of a past innocence that haunts their dreams, and memories.

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

I buy ambrosia wine in a nearby wine shop. A wonderful wine.
"It was fragrant, attacking, sharp to the nose.
The scent so strong; effusively grows."
I liked how you defined the odor of ambrosia. Thank you Carlos for sharing the amazing poetry.
Coyote

[Miss Sharon]

I love this write! It evokes so many childhood memories for me. I had horses and I remember placing my nose on their neck and to me that was the sweetest smell ever! Each horse has their own unique personality...and smell! ~Sharon

[Carlos Lorenzo Estrada]

that is so true. When you described your memory I was taken back myself when I was 14 and working at a farm for the summer. They had a corral for a couple of horses. They are such majestic animals and do have a unique scent and personality. I loved feeding and being around them. They are very powerful and strong, yet friendly and attentive by nature. Thank you for sharing your memory and thoughts.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

reminds me of Cindy, my first girlfriend and love...
Taboo....melted me and made my knees wobble even before the kiss.
j.

[Carlos Lorenzo Estrada]

Thank you, J. for sharing your memory. Nothing means more to me then knowing that this piece elicited a memorable memory of the past. Thanks again.

[mattavelli]

Hello, Carlos! :)
I haven't smelled a moth ball in maybe twenty years, but the scent is there in the corners of some memories of my grandmother's house, in closets with bright pink itchy blankets.
"the finite of rhyme" - I enjoy writing poetry with patterns. The limitations of rhyme push me to create new phrasing; so while my thoughts may not be new, I'm sure at least a few if my word combinations are. Haha
Have you written any rhythmic poetry?

[Carlos Lorenzo Estrada]

Hi Matt, hope you are doing well my friend. To be honest poetry is not my strong suit. Storytelling tends to get most of my attention. But once in a great while I might find a sentence that moves me more in a direction other then story. Almost like musical lyrics since a hobby of mine is playing a little bit of guitar. Or drawing illustrations. I hear you there on the originality of creative phrasing in poetry. In this day and age it's almost difficult because everything has been said in multiple variations of ways. A writer once said imitation is the highest form of flattery. I try my hardest not to copy others, but at times we as creators can't help but find Inspiration in the words of others already spoken. Which at times may influence our own art. I hope this answers your question. It is always good to hear from you. And hope that life is treating you well.

[Carlos Lorenzo Estrada]

Ps...my grandmother's closets often smelled of moth balls too hahaha.

[mattavelli]

Aye, even the idea of writing a story or poem is imitation. I suppose my goal is to create something memorable. I wrote a poem about that, "I want space for my thoughts in your memories". Haha
I rarely write stories or read fiction anymore, but I enjoy yours

[Carlos Lorenzo Estrada]

You are too kind Matt. I hope I didn't sound too cynical on my previous comment. I do love poetry as an art form, and admire those who put much of themselves into their work. It is difficult to find that right balance and note, or convey the messages we seek to share without allowing our biases or opinions to bleed too much into it. And yet there are those artists who bleed into their art hoping it will make the message more powerful. Without a doubt many writers seek to achieve exactly what you have said so eloquently in your poem; to find a space for our thoughts in the memories of those who take the time to allow us entrance into them. It is not to say that originality is dead, but simply malleable, it is pieces of many things. Part past and future aspirations. Just the fact that you have it in your heart to put pen to paper and reveal aspects of yourself to the world; is in itself a memorable act. Thank you.

[mattavelli]

Any time I hold back my opinion in writing, I'm just saving it for dramatic effect. Writing a poem, for me, is a bit like rage. Being honest about our opinions and feelings is easy when we're enraged. They tend to flow out of us. Haha... I wrote a poem, Ballade for Denial, about the feelings associated with a fictional breakup. The thoughts are fiction, but the feelings associated with them are true. They are feelings of pain and denial, and the tendency to lash out that I get when I stub my toe. I may be the first person to write a poem of that form, using that collection of thoughts and feelings. The poem has a couple great lines too, of unique phrasing. But its just another breakup poem, just another sad story, cry for attention. Haha
It only seems cynical. :)

[Carlos Lorenzo Estrada]

You are preaching to the choir my friend. I wrote the story War Pig, which is my satirical and pessimistic view on war. It was inspired by my Uncle's experience in the Vietnam War and the mindless slaughter he witnessed. He told me some of the most horrifying unbelievable experiences I have ever heard from a first person account of War. I don't think any book or movie could ever do justice to the loss of humanity a soldier goes through fighting in a senseless war. A huge piece of him died there and there are no words that could ever bring it back or redeem its loss. I believe we write from a place of knowledge and experience whether we have gone through it or it was shared by those we trust and love. Rage is an honest emotion and reflects a person's truth on a subject. We seek to engage the reader on an emotional level to make the experience visceral for them, especially on subjects we are passionate about. My high school writing teacher would often say the best work is the kind that bring out the humanity in your reader. But at the same time trying to retain a neutrality. As a Latino that idea is foreign to me because I try to convey my passion for the story and its emotive qualities. If I speak of love I want the reader to feel that, if I speak of anger, I want the samething. I want them to empathize and understand despite our diversity we all feel and love and even hate the same way. If I could bring them closer to grace on a human level, or to even contemplate such aspirations, then as a writer my words will have worth. And as you say burrow themselves into their heart and occupy that space. Be well my friend. And keep writing your truth.

[Relic]

There's a cetain perfume the girls wear that bring me back to Lorraine when I was 16. I even remember the friends we hung out with. It brings back an era I wish I could stay in.

Good writing.

[Carlos Lorenzo Estrada]

I hear you there my friend. I myself often wish I could go back in time to choose a different path from the lost opportunities that presented themselves. Thank you for sharing your thoughts and review.

[Chris Shaw]

Scents can really evoke memories Carlos. Honeysuckle is one whose fragrance always reminds me of my great Uncle's beautiful garden and the grapevine and sundial contained in it. Peppermint does have a strong smell. Peppermint tea is so refreshing. I enjoyed reading about your Grandmother again in this beautiful poem which recaptures your childhood.

Chris

[Carlos Lorenzo Estrada]

Thank you, Chris, she did love her tea, and personally grew the plant for that reason. Smells do illicit memories that are at times lost in the haze of our youth. Lilac has a similar effect on me as well. I could be doing anything and the moment that scent creeps into my nose I totally stop and become immerse in it. I'm back in 1978 in a lunch line by the cafeteria in grade school smelling a bushel of Lilac near by. Reminds me of sneaking peeks at my crush standing a few feet away in the same line. She reminds me of Lilac. Thank you for your kind review and wonderful conversation.