Oh, cardamom, spice of tales untold, With fragrant notes both warm and bold. A treasure cherished in kitchens near, Your essence travels far and clear.
In the kitchen, you claim your space, Enhancing dishes with subtle grace. One drop or two in bread or stew, Transforms a meal, makes flavors true.
In smoothies, salads, your taste refines, You grace the palate with rich designs. For digestive peace, you lend your art, With liquid mixed, you play your part.
A drop in water, ounces four, Soothes the belly, it aches no more. To breathe with ease, to lungs bring light, A diffuser spreads your calm through night.
Three drops or four, a tranquil stream, Cardamom clears, like a soothing dream. When thoughts are tangled, the mind confined, Two drops bring clarity, well-defined.
Rub hands together, cup near the face, Breathe in deeply, find mental space. Oh, cardamom oil, with gifts so true, For heart and soul, we turn to you.
Bergamot blooms where the climate is right, In sun-soaked soil, kissed by light. A citrus gem, both rare and sweet, Its gifts to us are pure and complete.
In Italy’s hands, its power unfurled, Soothing stress in a bustling world. Diffuse its drops when tensions rise, And feel calm wash through, a sweet surprise.
A shower’s steam, a calming embrace, Bergamot purifies skin with grace. One drop, a breath, its aroma unfurls, A tranquil gift from nature’s pearls.
For bedtime peace, a massage supreme, Bergamot oils create a dream. Applied to feet with gentle care, Relaxation fills the evening air.
A cleanser’s touch, a drop or two, Bergamot makes your skin anew. Its purifying touch, a natural art, Caring for your skin and heart.
‘Twas the Night Before Christmas (Essential Oils Edition)
‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house, Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse. The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, With scents of sweet cinnamon filling the air.
The children were nestled all snug in their beds, While whispers of peppermint danced in their heads. And Mama in her scarf, with her lavender spray, Had just settled down at the end of the day.
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter. Away to the window I flew like a flash, The aroma of fir trees as fresh as a splash.
The moon on the snow gave a magical glow, And hints of pine essence made spirits bestow. When, what to my wondering nose should appear, But a sleigh full of oils and eight festive reindeer!
With a little old driver, so lively and quick, I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick. More fragrant than ever, his oils they came, And he whistled and shouted and called them by name:
“Now Frankincense! Now Myrrh! Now Citrus and Spruce! On Clove Bud! On Ginger! Let the aromas cut loose! To the top of the porch! To the top of the wall! Let the scents of the season bring joy to you all!”
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly, The warm scent of clove and orange filled the sky. So up to the rooftop the reindeer they flew, With a sleigh full of treasures, and St. Nicholas too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof, The prancing and pawing of each little hoof. As I drew in my head and was turning around, Through the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.
He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his toes, And carried a diffuser to spread Christmas glows. A bundle of bottles he had flung on his back, Filled with aromas to keep the season on track.
His eyes, how they twinkled! His dimples, how merry! His cheeks smelled of nutmeg, his nose like a cherry! With a drop of vanilla, his smile did gleam, Bringing joy to the night with his yuletide dream.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work, Adding oils to stockings with a satisfied smirk. A touch of eucalyptus, a hint of sweet bay, And a drop of warm cedar to brighten the day.
Then laying his finger aside of his nose, A burst of fresh pine through the chimney arose. He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle, And away they all flew like the scent of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight, May your oils bring peace, may your spirits stay bright, For aromas of Christmas make everything right.”
Arborvitae, the tree of life, Majestic, ancient, wisdom rife. Its fragrant wood, a gift profound, Preserves, protects, and stands its ground.
To Native hands, this tree was kin, A sacred bond, deep roots within. Its oils they used, its strength revered, A guardian where threats appeared.
For tools, for homes, for sacred flame, Arborvitae upheld its name. Its heartwood strong, immune to time, Resisting rot, decay, and grime.
With lemon’s zest, it guards and shines, A polish pure, where beauty aligns. A spritz to shield from nature’s harms, A balm to calm with soothing charms.
In forest’s hush, its oils ignite A tranquil peace, a meditative light. Its essence speaks of strength and grace, A timeless guide in life’s vast space.
O tree of life, with branches wide, Your ancient wisdom will abide. From Native lands to modern care, Arborvitae’s gifts are everywhere.
Angelica, root of the earth’s deep song, With calming whispers, soft and long. In fields it grows, in tales it’s told, An “oil of angels,” warm and bold.
A touch to ease the breathing tight, A fragrant mist for restful night. For wearied minds, its scent will bear A quiet peace upon the air.
In caring hands, it finds the way To soothe the skin at close of day. Yet in the sun, it guards with grace, A gentle touch, a lighter trace.
O ancient root, of soil and dew, A healer’s friend, forever true. Angelica’s gift, both pure and sure, A balm of peace, a scent to cure.
Oh yarrow, herb of healing grace, In you, we find a gentle embrace, A timeless remedy, nature’s art, Healing body, mind, and heart.
Yarrow, healer of the ages past, With feathery leaves and blooms amassed, A herb that stands a meter high, Pink-white crowns reach for the sky.
In ancient times, you soothed the pain, From battle wounds to ailments’ strain, Your essence, pure, in oil refined, A myriad uses we now find.
For those who suffer hemorrhoid plight, A touch of yarrow brings relief so light, With coconut oil, a blend so fine, Applied to ease, where troubles align.
When emotions whirl like stormy seas, Yarrow in a diffuser brings peace with ease, A calming wave, a soothing balm, Restoring balance, restoring calm.
Digestive woes, discomfort’s blight, A touch of yarrow makes it right, With gentle hands, apply with care, And find relief from the burdens you bear.
For hair that’s lost its strength and sheen, Yarrow’s gift is evergreen, In shampoos mixed, it works its charm, Restoring health, protecting from harm.
In lands where Mediterranean breezes blow, And Central Asia’s secrets quietly grow, There lies a shrub, Vitex it is named, With leaves like fingers, berries darkly famed.
From this blessed shrub, with petals of blue, Comes oil that whispers of wellness true. Vitex berry, essence divine, A gift to balance, to soothe, to refine.
In drops so small, its power unfolds, To harmonize the body’s intricate holds. For hormones rioting, seeking repose, Vitex berry whispers, it gently bestows.
Blend it with coconut’s comforting touch, On belly and throat, it works wonders as such. A potion to balance, to calm the soul, In moments of chaos, it plays its role.
When pain creeps in, its presence is near, Mix it with coconut, let it appear. Gently it eases, soothes every ache, A balm for the weary, a solace to take.
And when muscles tighten, in spasms they strain, Vitex berry whispers, releasing their pain. With coconut’s embrace, it melts away, Leaving behind a peaceful sway.
So praise to the Vitex, so ancient and wise, For the solace it brings, for the calm in our cries. In drops of its essence, we find our reprieve, A remedy cherished, in which we believe.
In fields of verdant hues, where vetiver grows, A fragrant essence from the earth it shows. From India’s soil, this grass does rise, Its roots distilled, to yield the oil’s prize.
Vetiver, dear essence of tranquil dreams, Inhale its scent, where peace silently streams. To restful sleep, with gentle breath, incline, In diffusers’ mist, let its essence entwine.
In days of chill, when winter’s breath draws near, Vetiver’s warmth may soothe and steer, A drop or two within your tea’s embrace, In every sip, a winter’s grace.
When weary limbs bespeak a calming touch, With coconut’s oil, blend vetiver’s clutch. In massage’s gentle caress, find reprieve, As tension fades, and calm we retrieve.
Immunity’s guardian, in a tiny cap enclosed, Vetiver’s strength, within it, composed. Two drops within, a defense arrayed, In body’s fortress, its power displayed.
Thus, vetiver, from earth’s bosom born, In myriad ways, its virtues adorn. Restful sleep, immunity’s aid, a calming balm, In vetiver’s essence, find serenity’s calm.
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