Smelling Books: The Perfume of Pages

2010-11-10T20:25:00.000-08:00

For those whose tastes are fine,
You might savor the aroma of wine,
Perfectly aged, with taste buds engaged,
One whiff and you'll deem it divine.

Others enjoy the scent of a man,
Who is muscular, tall and tan,
He's sure to entice, with the smell of Old Spice,
Try to resist if you can.

Some love the smells of food,
Beef and beans, that are stewed,
One look at the table, and they'll be unable,
To resist or be subdued.

But if you don't care about looks,
Or the way the cuisinier cooks,
You might get some stares, but nothing compares,
To sitting and sniffing some books.

The Sour Mrs. Sarandon

2010-11-10T19:25:00.000-08:00

Dear Mrs. Sarandon,

The first day that I met you, I noticed your sinister smile,
Then came the scent of your putrid breath, so malodorous and vile.

My mother is a dentist, so she's seen the worst of some,
But it doesn't get much worse than you, with gingivitis in each gum.

You laugh at your own jokes, which never prove to be funny,
And you try to conceal the giggles, but you can't fool me honey.

Along with your obvious disdain, for brushing any of your teeth,
It's time we try to analyze, just what lies underneath.

I know just who you are, with your frazzled, unkempt hair,
You've lost some marbles along the way, and your mind's begun to ware.

You yell at kids who have no pass, despite their need to study,
And what starts as a small problem, becomes something gross and bloody.

They didn't comment on your weight, or poke fun at your age,
They simply asked to sit and read, and now you’re in a rage.

They never see it coming, as you slowly become undone,
And I just sit in disbelief, as you rip the kids a new one.

You use some nasty sarcasm, along with horrible teenage impressions,
Claiming we all think you’re stupid, and point out your transgressions.

Where on earth is this anger from? Why are you so defensive?
I think you need some professional help, and it's going to be expensive.

I understand the library is your home, your habitat, your niche,
But that doesn't give you an excuse, to be a derisive witch.

The Drowning Fish

Smelling Books: The Perfume of Pages

The Sour Mrs. Sarandon