Sometimes I can’t take this world anymore. Everything’s harsh, bitter, crazy and old. Everyone’s rough when I walk out the door Where I have to perform just as I’m told. How long can I do this and not go mad? My final nerve has all but erupted. And if I should see a glimmer of hope All of my mirth is soon interrupted.
BUT… then there’s you… my darling and my friend! You see how to comfort and mellow me. You cleanse my soul like a soft, lathered soap. Or like a fresh and spicy herbal tea.
Just when I think I can’t take anymore, You’re the pack of pink roses at my door.
Thank You. . .
Click Hereto learn more about Lyric Man from Amouage. Read Oud Luban. TheFragranceWriter.com, 2020, except where noted otherwise. All rights reserved.
Poetry Inspired by the Perfume Oud Luban from Aftelier.
I combed the earth To find a cure for my wounds [I am the broken hearted-man]. I roamed past The lign aloes [planted by God], And the giant cedars Reaching to heaven. Nothing could ease my pain; Neither khus oil, Nor the fruit of the goodly tree Could return my joy. I prayed for a sign. . . . . .for a miracle. . . But I came to the Boswella tree and swung my axe in faith, As incense swings through the air [while smoke ascends like a prayer]. And where blade met bark, From there’s came the healing milk, And so the mending Of a broken heart.