When I Pass a Lilac Bush
I walk through a cloud
of cloying sweetness, heady
olfactory punch.
It knocks me back to days past,
the purpled hedge of childhood.
16 thoughts on "When I Pass a Lilac Bush"
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this makes me think of a knockout punch in a movie hybrid crossed between Rocky and Jane Austen, and I love it
There you go…write a poem about the impossible meeting of Rocky and Jane Austen.
Yes!
Consider it done!
Complete with 18 Weeners.
🤦♀️ Heaven help us.
Oh, that last line is so good.
You absolutely draw the reader into that sensory experience and nostalgia. Really well-crafted piece.
and today we’ll
concentrate
on the sense of smell,
it swells
The purpled edge of childhood!
I love the smell of lilacs. Your last line reminds me of how we used to visit the Arnold Arboretum on Lilac Sunday
A great moment captured! You do this so well Chelsie.
I used to cut lilacs from the bush at my parent’s home and sit them next to my bed, every spring. This one hit on a personal level!
That last line is sheer perfection. It caps the piece off beautifully
I wrote a poem this spring that captured a similar sentiment… what is it about the memory of lilac and childhood specifically? Mine (as a snippet of a much longer poem about other things) was “a wet-blossomed memory, smells like lilac, like childhood, high-heaven-of-hiding…”. : )
Love that! I had a literal hedge of lilac bushes in my front yard when I was a kid, so that’s why I think I associate it with childhood, but it seems like lots of others associate them with childhood too! It’s such a distinctive, memorable scent.