Saturday, January 26, 2013

Get Your Poet On!

I'd like to start a line of perfumes inspired by and named after dead poets. Possible company names (no, not Dead Poet Scentciety or Poet-No-Mort): Poet Aroma, Verse Verdant, or Poessence, perhaps. For travel-size versions, Poet Balm (Frost will be a best-seller every December!). But think of it - what poet would you want (to try) on your skin? How would you WANT or imagine Teasdale to smell (on you)? The poems are the inspiration for the Scent of the Poet. And the motto: "The scent that'll make you wish you were dead!" 100% All-Supernatural Ingredients GUARANTEED! And no discontinuations EVER. You won't want to leave the house without (getting) Your Poet on! Who wouldn't want to give her sweetheart a little Millay on Valentine's Day? Who wouldn't want to douse herself in Dickinson?

If you had this idea before me: NO YOU DIDN'T. I have only one person to thank (or blame) for this and it is Nana (and Nana's Basement Perfumehouse of Avon). Do not let this cat out of the hag. I need to call Oprah first to schedule personal interviews with the dead poets I am representing. Oprah can try out all the poets first because she O-wns the Poet Perfume Network - the dead poets in perfume bottles all want to have tea with Oprah THE MOMENT they come (back) to life. All Rights Reserved for this Aromatic Rumi. You know you wanna put that favorite poet on your favorite someone. You know you wanna Sleep with Shelley.

10 comments:

operaerobic said...

Hows 'bout some 'Jess(i.e.)'s girl', the scent of 'Spring fields'... where can I find a woman like that?

operaerobic said...

Oh, no innuendo intended; I crack myself up (but don't mean to wear it on my sleeve).

operaerobic said...

Simon says: let's clear the air with the smell of silence (parsley, sage, rosemary and 'funk').

operaerobic said...

Hmm, somethin's standing still there, did you have to let it linger? Get your nose back in the Cranberries—redheads are always in season—Vivaldi's a chestnut.

operaerobic said...

Poetry in motion? Stray Cat Strut...

operaerobic said...

A rose by any other name would smell as Shakespeare, sweety.

operaerobic said...

Yeah, let's be fresh, not Frank—Einstein ('it's alive')! Must be Halloween...

operaerobic said...

Make that punkin scented, then (my little pun kin), says Pepe Le Pew (pardon his French).

Jess Rehearsal said...

Wow, you really went wild and enjoyed yourself. Come back and do so again anytime. I enjoy your linguistic aerobics so much. If you have not noticed, I haven't blogged in a while. Not sure why; I'm never at a loss for inspiration but the poetry hasn't been coming, either. I suppose other things are at work. Innuendo should often originate unintentionally but stay-on with intention and delight. So crack yourself up all you wish. The smell of silence...you left out basil. Is basil a sound? And are we honorary synesthetes? You lost me at redheads, but I know a thing about chestnuts. It's all poetry in motion, whether we're here to speak/write/sense it or not. Do you have something more to say about stray cats? Can you guess how I feel about roses and their scent? You can have the rose, I'll smell the Shakespeare. In bottle: The Absence of Rose. Imagine how that smells! It's hard to be fresh and not frank--Einstein. Can't we be both and all? Must be, must be. Sure, I'm 'er little pun kin. I'm a punk in something, that's for sure -- but more, a pun kin! That was really great. You get a bott-Le Pew.

operaerobic said...

Well, a silhouetted pussy-cat came to my window that night (after the redhead), I said hello in French, and we continued the conversation in a roundabout way.