A Poet’s Tranquillity in Fragrant Realms

Walking among your cheering fragrant blooms of jasmine

Your dear lovely bowers seem to be inviting soul mine,

To mingle with fragrance, thine

Your green foliage blending with blossoms white,

Seem to be tantalising me with all their might,

Transporting me to higher realms.


The gentle wind blows the sweet fragrance

Infusing my spirit, creating a heavenly ambiance.

The bees buzz in jubilance,

 The birds are chirping merrily,

The butterflies are flying cheerfully,

Rejoicing in the jasmine blooms’ intoxicating beauty.


The tranquillity and the fragrance become my Muse,

To praise you in my aubades, my inspiring Muse,

To fly on the wings of poesy,

And write verses, entranced by your epiphany.

In all calmness,

And blissful joyousness!

©Pushmaotee Subrun

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About Pushmaotee Subrun

Pushmaotee Fowdur Subrun was born in 1949 in Mauritius. She pursued higher studies in Delhi University where she graduated in English. For the past forty-four years she has worked in secondary schools, seven years of which she spent in Masvingo, Zimbabwe, teaching English in an army school. She completed her PGCE at the Mauritius Institute of Education in 1993. After her retirement, she was a member of the Council of the University of Mauritius for three years. She is currently a reader and editor in the Ministry of Arts and Culture. She has written one novel, one play and Short Stories and Fables. Her poems have featured in Setu Magazine, ‘Poetry and Creativity’ and in Atunis Poetry.

6 thoughts on “A Poet’s Tranquillity in Fragrant Realms

  1. Amita Paul

    Poetic ecstasy suffuses this poem about the beauty of a garden adorned with the dainty and fragrant jasmine among other delights.

    1. Pushmaotee Subrun Post author

      I have a jasmine plant at home and the fragrance when it blooms at night is so very sweet… hence the inspiration for this poem!

    2. Amita Paul

      Once again , I’m tempted to quote Keats who talks about the “ soft incense “ in a twilight garden , with the fragrance of the flowers giving a clue about their identity:

      I cannot see what flowers are at my feet,
      Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs,
      But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet
      Wherewith the seasonable month endows
      The grass, the thicket, and the fruit-tree wild;
      White hawthorn, and the pastoral eglantine;
      Fast fading violets cover’d up in leaves;
      And mid-May’s eldest child,
      The coming musk-rose, full of dewy wine,
      The murmurous haunt of flies on summer eves.

      Isn’t that a lovely game of blind man’s buff with the poet guessing at the presence of each different flower based on the fragrance wafting up to him in the darkness ?

      1. Pushmaotee Subrun Post author

        Thanks dear poet Amita… don’t remember the following poem dear…will read it …
        I cannot see what flowers are at my feet,
        Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs,
        But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet…

  2. Pushmaotee Subrun Post author

    My heartfelt thanks to you dear poet Louis! Your comment is an inspiration to me to try harder…


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