The worst possible title for a poem followed by the poem on that title
An Odd Ode upon Odoriferous Odious Old Odours
Sometimes I sniff a smell and think
This isn’t such an awful stink
For certain whiffs, in various ways,
Remind us of our childhood days.
An unguent’s reek on someone sick
Can call to mind my grandma’s Vic
Which, e’er she took her nightly rest,
She’d rub in plenty on her chest.
Dry seaweed rotting on the rocks,
Outdoor privies, sweaty socks,
A cesspit’s stench, an armpit’s whiff,
Recall those pongs we used to sniff.
Old odours wafting on the breeze,
Arouse afresh fond memories
Of all things smelly, foul and rank,
Remembered for the way they stank.
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