for a moment of joy or moments no one pays for, i give myself a ‘jornal’. this makes me rich. try it.

Night Scents: the truth about roses (for One Shot Wednesday)

Evening has fallen, tarnishing all translucence. Daffodils, for one, sprayed like comet behind a picket fence, are now turned-down copper bells. Magnolias, that crowd of plump cheeks on Warren Avenue, now doze on bruised faces.

Only dogwoods on front lawns seem to take evening fall with grace. Their crown, a dull mantle in daylight, has turned into iridescent lace while on the ground ivy has thickened, breathing like a ghost.

Not colors but scents have taken over life in the dying day. But nothing like vapors that seem solid like steam or fog or mist, just weightless molecules spinning in the air.

‘Fragrant’ seems paltry if it were to mean the scent of violets blindly met along a cypress hedge on Montgomery St.—a bouquet part spicy part sweet like a potion for a faint spirit. ‘Perfumed’ weighs gaudily on jasmine for its scent from a terrace on Battery St. descends as faint as a memory—fleeting like all moments that come back to haunt.
The nose, is it? Or perhaps the heart leads the nose to track down the scent of roses. Some flourish in unlikely spots; they trap the heart in a patch back of a kitchen on Riverside, for instance. Here, rose bushes wear open faces. No secret chambers there.

Even in the evening, rose blooms thrust up as if to sing—but not to sing, perhaps more to sigh. Listen then and breathe for in opening their lips, their scent also escapes. Note that only in the evening this truth about roses is revealed: their scent hints at sour drops and salt sprays, tears and regrets and the million contradictions lodged in the heart.

Copyright (c) by Alegria Imperial 2009
Published in Eleventh Flash in the Pan at Tiny Lights magazine

Posted for One Shot Wednesday 53rd week at One Stop Poetry, that inimitable gathering place for poets and artists. Check out what we share and do hop in!


July 6, 2011 - Posted by | lyrical prose | , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,


  1. lyrical and beautiful, as ever. I like to see you working in this free form, the longer lines! the heart leading the nose, a fabulous idea! would love your take on mine..up at .xxj

    Comment by Jenne' Rodey Andrews | July 6, 2011 | Reply

    • Thanks again, Jenne! Yes, I do have some in this free form, including my novella. Someday soon, I hope I’ll be focused to finalize and send it off on its yet uncertain sphere. Thanks again!

      Comment by alee9 | July 6, 2011 | Reply

  2. so much to be said of scents…they ring with memories and feeling and have the ability to transport us to far off places…

    Comment by brian | July 6, 2011 | Reply

    • Yes, don’t scents do that? Thanks again, Brian, for your generous words…

      Comment by alee9 | July 6, 2011 | Reply

  3. As always, a most original take–all fragrance and nuance and instead of the truth about roses being the sharp thorn one might expect, it’s the dream memory of a thorn hidden in smoky petals. I esp liked “…fleeting like all moments that come back to haunt….” Beautiful poem, Alegria.

    Comment by hedgewitch | July 6, 2011 | Reply

    • Thank you again, Joy! Your words never fail to reassure my frail spirit. I’m often hardly ever sure that I’m writing something that makes sense but I’m compelled anyway. This piece was meant to be a journal and then, it metamorphosed into itself as a ‘poem’. I can really never thank you enough!

      Comment by alee9 | July 10, 2011 | Reply

  4. Very nice. I really enjoyed this.

    Comment by forpuck | July 8, 2011 | Reply

    • I’m glad you enjoyed it! Thanks for coming by.

      Comment by alee9 | July 10, 2011 | Reply

  5. smiles. thank you for your words tonight. they are an encouragement. and i wont be straying far. I am in the process of opening a new poetry community that should be up and running by the time I officially leave on the 19th.

    Comment by brian miller | July 10, 2011 | Reply

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