been breathing too many fumes running after the poetry bus

 
I'm late for my second trip aboard the Poetry Bus, engineered by TotalFeckinEejit. This week the bus is driven by NANU who gave these instructions:  
We are all familiar with those wiggly almost-words used to verify that a blogger leaving a comment is in fact an actual blogger and not a machine. Yes. Those words are your mission. Collect them this week. Pick your favorite, or several, and include it/them in your poem.

Since I was late and didn't collect word verifications throughout the week all of mine came from last night when I left comments at various blogs -- and one is even an actual word but I'm using it anyway.


Perfume from the Isle of Pligh

This, fine shopper, is no Eau de cologne,
with notes of fruit and twigs and
synthetic fragrance oils
faking a scent of sea breeze.
No sneeze

for I've placed on this pillow the jewel of perfumes
with ingredients harvested from a
lush, secret copse found
only on the Isle of Pligh.
A sigh

now as you twist the tiny platinum cap
on the bottle forged from rare arion -
ah, top notes of chocolate oranges
from the fragrant suastro tree.
You see

in your mind's eye the enchanted cave
where grows the mossy dedmingy
that gives pungent character
to the middle notes scent.
A vent

in the earth reveals the musky modsherp
that eats the seeds of the achabla root
and for our precious base notes we
gather those pods, glean that musk.
At dusk

those treasures are silently brought forth
so the modsherp live on to feast again
on the achabla seeds, and the mossy dedmingy -
protecting the vent in the arion cave -
continue to thrive in the shade of the
grove of suastro trees in the copse
on the Isle of Pligh.

You'll buy?

© MLydiaM

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