The 5 Senses Poem Challenge

[kitten1964]

I wrap the blanket,
rough wool,
around my shoulders.
The breeze is cool
from the open window
but I refuse to have it shut.
The door opens
and I ignore the squeak
of the sneakers,
the rustle of a uniform,
the clink of the tray.
Smell of peaches
drifts to my nose.
She bustles about,
fluffing pillows,
babbling about nothing.
She is easy to ignore.
I lift a biscuit to my mouth,
syrupy sweet preserves
smearing slightly on my lips.
I giggle to myself,
imagining my lover - lovers?
there have been so many -
licking the peachy glaze off.
I drift back into my memories
as the door shuts again,
ignoring the tear sliding
down my cheek.


sight: train depot
sound: birdsong
scent: floral scent
taste: cola
touch: silk

 

[UnderYourSpell]

"I'm sitting in a railway station
with a ticket for my destination"
vies with the blackbird
sitting atop a lilac tree
singing his heart out for his lady.
Whilst I barely holding back the tears,
kiss your cola tasting lips
one last time, your silken skin
slips away from my love
and is gone forever.

sight: The Eiffel Tower
sound: Hooters
scent: Apple blossom
taste: Salty tears
touch: Grit

 

[KatieJones]

had to keep it from slipping off the front page...

sight: The Eiffel Tower
sound: Hooters
scent: Apple blossom
taste: Salty tears
touch: Grit

She Takes

the stairs up the Eiffel Tower
embraced by iron arms, trying
not to slip on the grit and tears
of strangers before her
who also stepped off
the earth to distance themselves
from honks and the religion
of running circles. Together
and alone they followed
the soft coos and hoots
that inhabit this ferrous tree
some to see out and some to look
inside. She could have quietly gone
to sleep but it felt wrong
to punctuate a life
of loneliness in solitude
so with everything and nothing
solved she smiled
and followed the mourning
dove onto the wind
and deepened the hue
of the fallen apple blossoms below.

sight: small boat
sound: argument
scent: chlorine
taste: caramel
touch: splintered wood

 

[Trixareforkids]

sight: small boat
sound: argument
scent: chlorine
taste: caramel
touch: splintered wood




Removed




sight: grave stone
sound: clicking fan
scent: honeysuckle
taste: tart apple
touch: damp soil

 

[KatieJones]

sight: grave stone
sound: clicking fan
scent: honeysuckle
taste: tart apple
touch: damp soil

clicking ceiling fan counts the seconds
that confirm that time still moves
forward despite the fridge full
of lasagnas and tart apple pies
carefully wrapped with expiry dates
in case the fan stops
and he is stuck in the moment
where he hears the fall
of damp soil into a six foot hole
and stares at the jewelry spread
across her dresser, gravestones
of memories he’s afraid will fade
like her honeysuckle perfume
so he never touches the pearls
and leaves the fan alone

sight: newspaper
sound: keyboard clicking
scent: fresh laundry
taste: lemon
touch: tile floor

 

[todski28]

sight: newspaper
sound: keyboard clicking
scent: fresh laundry
taste: lemon
touch: tile floor

cold squares lineal lined
press into my knuckles
as I lift her hips to slip down her panties
that moments earlier were pulled from the line
scented with berry and the tell tale fragrance
of fresh arousal

shhhhhh, exhaled in husky whisper
the sounds of a keys tell tale tap
an alarm that her room mate was awake
I shake my head, teeth slide down her thigh
her face scrunched as if she had eaten fresh lemon
trying not to make a sound

I whisper in her ear
Headlines Read,
kinky room mate about to take massive manhood
as her friend listens on in jealous longing

or she could join us.....

sight- traveller
sound - fax machine
scent- fresh rain
taste- sour
touch- fabric

 

[Angeline]

sight: newspaper
sound: keyboard clicking
scent: fresh laundry
taste: lemon
touch: tile floor

cold squares lineal lined
press into my knuckles
as I lift her hips to slip down her panties
that moments earlier were pulled from the line
scented with berry and the tell tale fragrance
of fresh arousal

shhhhhh, exhaled in husky whisper
the sounds of a keys tell tale tap
an alarm that her room mate was awake
I shake my head, teeth slide down her thigh
her face scrunched as if she had eaten fresh lemon
trying not to make a sound

I whisper in her ear
Headlines Read,
kinky room mate about to take massive manhood
as her friend listens on in jealous longing

or she could join us.....

sight- traveller
sound - fax machine
scent- fresh rain
taste- sour
touch- fabric

I am a traveler
a silent ghost in your machine
I haven't got a message
but I'm clear like rain,
damp and then elusive.

I'm sour and sweet
and I live for the times
when I can't tell
the two apart--
that and my soft bed,
my comforting silk.


sight- water (in any form)
sound - click
scent- bread
taste- something bitter
touch- leaves

 

[Trixareforkids]

sight- water (in any form)
sound - click
scent- bread
taste- something bitter
touch- leaves

Removed




Sight: caged animal
Sound: crying
Scent: hay
Taste: cotton candy
Touch: warm metal

 

[champagne1982]

I am a traveler<snip>

sight- water (in any form)
sound - click
scent- bread
taste- something bitter
touch- leaves

Yesterday, burnt toast scraped
char onto a white plate, an odour
stung sinuses like the wet smoulder
of slick leaves fallen early in the rain.

Ironic, only clear water can wash
the bilious burn from a throat snicked
shut, firmly clicked against the taste
of bitter, anger-infused memory.

Trix beat me to it so I post this one in answer to Ange and my list follows my answer to Trix.

 

[champagne1982]

Sight: caged animal
Sound: crying
Scent: hay
Taste: cotton candy
Touch: warm metal

She hissed a wet finger
against the hot iron
and pressed the uniform
that locks her patterns
into a restless back and forth.

Like a tiger pacing, caged
and furious until she wakes
from the sobbing trance,
and moves to look out
over the shorn fields,
deeply inhaling the fresh mow
of hay and sweet grass.

She pinches a vanilla
pinkness of spun sugared
fluff saved from the visit
to the fall fair and wonders
again why she goes each day,
in service of a government --
ignorant of duty and honour.

sight- v's
sound - honk
scent- smoke
taste- cider
touch- itch

 

[todski28]

sight- v's
sound - honk
scent- smoke
taste- cider
touch- itch


the cider slides silky smooth
cold beads on bottles edge
the glass perspires
cigar smoke inhaled
its scent lingers on fingers
and clouds the air
eyes closed as sweet nicotine
tars lungs in addictive strokes

gravel pops beneath the roll of tyres
as she pulls into the drive
(honk if you're horny)
I smile a small smirk
as she bounds from the vehicle all bouncing breasts
and short shorts that cut a high V that teases,
a shopping bag full of goodies on the passenger seat
the mountain view and crisp air clip her nipples
they bloom like Nymphaea red flares

she thrust them hard into my chest
the weight of breast and strength of her arms
pull my neck down our lips collide
space dissipates and we are one

as we sink our roots in moist soil
the itch of desire scratched into
the bedpost
and hammered into the wall

Sight- fruit
sound- a sigh
scent- leather
taste- rich food
touch- something hard

 

[Desejo]

Bairro De Ajuda

Bairro De Ajuda

They jump over gutters
where corn cobs and plastic bags
Float defeated in monsoon spit

Climb uneven steps to Tia Rosa’s
beaten down mud veranda
To enjoy the city’s evening show

Drinking sweating cold beer
On cracked chinese plastic
chairs while

Rosa fans fish over the grill
brown haunches bulging
in a low squat
charcoal chokes out coughs

in a sudden syncopation with
car horns on the main road
Where three girls cross

Blond extensions slapping
Burnt off ends against taut backs
Grazing the naked line
Between cut off shirts and
Jeans, slapping that gleaming

intersection
Where nylon Tangas
Creep up over maximus
And mark elastic Vs
Under too tight jeans

Here then, another urgent itch
to scratch

Sight- darkness
sound- public transport
scent- cake
taste- milk
touch- plastic

 

[Desejo]

Yipes, I just realized I used the wrong set of words! Use Todski's not mine!

 

[Remec]

[QUOTE
Sight- fruit
sound- a sigh
scent- leather
taste- rich food
touch- something hard

Sight- darkness
sound- public transport
scent- cake
taste- milk
touch- plastic[/QUOTE]

Crossing

The soft glow holds steady,
but the darkness is what fills
my vision--funneling everything
inwards to where the blue awaits.

I hesitate, checking my supplies,
taking time to for a taste of the night's
meal as it sits still upon the abandoned table,
rich and expensive, but cold, and the
milk beside the plats clears my tongue,
even though it has grown lukewarm.

The search has been tiring,
day after night after week after month,
just room after room,
stumbling feet kick something unyielding
that honks like a city bus or the trashman,
but is just a child's plaything,
all plastic covered in soft padding that
smells of leather,

I'm never getting out of here, am I?

I reach the blue edge and carefully lean over
it's beaming rim, spotting a table not too different
from where I am--another design to the cloth,
chairs that don't match, bowl of apples in the center,
Without pausing, I take aim across from it and
release the yellow, and step through.

The place is bland and uninteresting,
but it smells of cake. sigh
Damn it.




sight: elf
sound: lightning
scent: pine
taste: candied fruit
touch: velour

 

[playcatch]

sight: elf
sound: lightning
scent: pine
taste: candied fruit
touch: velour

Slim Tim caped
patchouli enough for us all to sail
or trail in his wake

Pagan protagonist ladled cider
to those he'd not much miss
48 hours after the storm

struck his velour and robbed its burgandy.
Blindly we held his hems
as he deeply bowed bowls of salt
and soil and slipped kisses
across solemn carpets--silhouetted against
sharp pine paneling which even now
sets every imagined travesty.

Tim lifted hands, eyes, everyone up
to the hanging belly of solstice
which we plucked like lint
on majesty--reverent fingertips mine and

Darling Michael's--my stunning accessory
who shone against the moon--high
fine bones and blonde
enough to sacrifice
beneath an unremarkable shower.

Six months later
Michael told me he finally knew
that good sex doesn't sever
loyalty from need--doesn't sign
its night in blood.

We held hands and dearly
breathed relief.

sight: metal mesh
sound: whistle
smell: petrol
Feel: lips kissed raw
taste: mob thrill

 

[todski28]

YES, YES,
the starving chant
a hunger deep
it burns
it churns up the flame-spout
fuel it in black smoke petrol doused

A ring a ring a rosie
a pocket full of posies

lips scraped raw
fingers pressed into metal mesh
sweat beaded grimy hair swings
hips thrust forward
base beats pump
fists pound the air

the dull thuds of bare feet
on wet sand
summer night
closes
and swallows me whole

the whistle of a bird wakes us

taste: poison fruit
Touch: wet paint
sight: light
sound: barking dog
scent: incense

 

[playcatch]

taste: poison fruit
Touch: wet paint
sight: light
sound: barking dog
scent: incense

Snatched tomatoes mine!
Nightshaded mesh gate too much
temptation for an afternoon stride.
Two steps back obey

lips' red loving whose
robber runs up stoop,
ignoring the sign, smearing the super's
afternoon green from the door.

Robber leaves a trail
documenting the call of a sharp knife,
lust for salt, and dream of a succulent wedge--
this season's stolen fruit
spills hundreds of seeds over china.

It is a big plate, generously
bouncing back the afternoon window,
echoing back the adorable bitch next door
who barks when she's ignored,
while the precious center slices
rise pangs of homegrown slaughter into rare
air wafting sandalwood all the way from
Ethiopia on the back of a lion.


Sight: splayed fingers
Sound: held breath finally released
Smell: candle blown out
Touch: granite
Taste: blood

 

[Angeline]

Sight: splayed fingers
Sound: held breath finally released
Smell: candle blown out
Touch: granite
Taste: blood

Smokes curls to air and I
am waxen as if out and
out this candle too brief

sputtered away from me
even as I held your splayed
fingers to my chest, kissed

their cold tips, breathed
I love you always, you
who course in my blood

and are spun in my bones,
your sad eyes somehow
still with me, the fallen

sparrow shattered on this
granite reality lifting
a wing heavenward

toward the possibility
of you, wondering if I
still know how to fly.


Sight: shadow
Sound: glass breaking
Smell: grass
Touch: feather
Taste: wine

 

[champagne1982]

Sight: shadow
Sound: glass breaking
Smell: grass
Touch: feather
Taste: wine

I hold the gift of brother eagle
his feather fallen beneath
his nest, giving me strength
to resist the need to keep
you with me when it is time
for you to fall and rest

I smell the sweet
grass burning as the shaman
cleanses this air, the gentle
cloud protects my soul
as you entice me to follow
where it is not safe to go.

You're not gone yet
this dream not true,
it's not true. I see
the shadow over
your face. Where
has the light gone?

I will not share the bitter taste
of communion wine. No priest
can transmute your blood
and that is all I want.

Your slow death shatters the mirror
held up to our life and the crack
as it breaks is the sound
of my heart losing another piece.

Sight: snow flakes
Sound: diesel engine
Smell: peaches
Touch: chill
Taste: sour

 

[playcatch]

Sight: snow flakes
Sound: diesel engine
Smell: peaches
Touch: chill
Taste: sour[/QUOTE]

Cobblers hammer tiny nails into all 8 sides of October
so it can trek the dark night months to March
under the softest landing possible
heaven can arrange for rain.

Hold out your hand, demands the present!
Miraculous laces fall
and vanish. Every thing, every one changes
into something, into someone else, persisting,
even when it is 40 below
and diesel engines rumble all night
determination to carry sunlicked peaches
unsplit from Atlanta to Alaska.

New boots are hard but soften with walking.
30 blocks down beckons soup heaven. No doubt
worth the blisters for hot and sour. You didn't think
you'd like it, did you?


Scent: cooking tamales
Sound: Spanish speakers
Touch: smooth pine
Taste: smoke
Sight: straw

 

[kitten1964]

Scent: cooking tamales
Sound: Spanish speakers
Touch: smooth pine
Taste: smoke
Sight: straw

We lean against the smooth pine wall
(at least I think it's pine, but who can tell?),
taste of cheap cigarillo smoke
coating my tongue.
I hear the cooks speaking Spanish,
rapidly,
passionately,
as they cook the tamales.
Straw slips under my feet,
strewn about the floor.
I keep sliding down the bench
behind the table I share with you.
Your hand slides up my dress,
not hard to do since it's already
at the top of my thighs.
No panties of course -
you love to see me exposed,
open,
the men crowding around me.
A dangerous game,
but one that you have played so often,
so well.
Moist heat meets cool air
and I shiver.
I know the script
but always wonder
if this is the time
someone decides to
deviate,
improvise,
throw in a spanner
to your carefully imagined scene.
It's why I'm here now.
Waiting for the curtain to rise,
waiting to see how it all plays out.
I always hope to be surprised.


Scent: sweat
Sound: crunching
Taste: metal
Touch: cold
Sight: empty plains

 

[todski28]

Scent: sweat
Sound: crunching
Taste: metal
Touch: cold
Sight: empty plains

it builds as sweat drips its heavy oppression
where grit grimey sticks to three day stubble
each laboured breath breathes humidity's soup
black and grey merge and join
the skies staked matryoshka dolls
distant rumble growls the approach as
light flashes
dot the horizon

taste the tang of ozone cracked open raw
as it oozes coppers sharp bite
forked spears spark showers of jagged knives
that cut the barriers of sound
a katana blade swift slice
booms a war cry that cowers the bravest men

roll on through the hills
blue and red lights flash in insignificance
to such a beast,
its path blown from the sea
cold drops pour down
crunching against the tin roof,
grinding the gravel in hard hitting hiss
that decibel reads louder than the shriek of cut aluminium

it flows fluid grace
a dervish of pure white danger dances across the sky
intoxicating to step out from cover
let cold drips drop on goosebumped flesh
run toward the empty plains
arms wide beseeching the skies
to swallow me up
and take me away

sight: water bottle
sound: car passing very fast
scent: dust/pollen
taste: anger
touch: glass

 

[Angeline]

Scent: sweat
sight: water bottle
sound: car passing very fast
scent: dust/pollen
taste: anger
touch: glass

I was glass back then
transparent, not seeing
who shattered what,
only that something
hit the wall hard
and the dust had to
settle, sweat had to
dry.

I needed
nine years of grace
and pure water holy
like a benediction
to wash you off me,
your bloody anger
your breaking rage
drove me away
in a whoosh of wheels
and distance.



sight: cat
sound: train whistle
scent: smoke
taste: meat
touch: something soft

 

[todski28]

sight: cat
sound: train whistle
scent: smoke
taste: meat
touch: something soft

she slinks in feline grace
her curves lured me here
some wild animal baited and trapped
with the ease of a practiced huntress
a tawny lioness who cleans her claws
of the last kill,

the click of heels hypnotize me
deer in the headlights startled
the smoking tyres should have me run
but it's too late

she collapses
and unzips
cashmere soft she takes me
in her throat
I want to scream
"no"
as loud as the 4:15's whistle
but all I can do is hold her hair
in clenched fist
and let her feast

knowing that when she is done
I will taste every inch of her
with hungry hands
and saliva flooded tongue

chill dread buffets me

sight: fire
sound: guitar
scent: lust
taste: chocolate
touch: heat

 

[Remec]

sight: fire
sound: guitar
scent: lust
taste: chocolate
touch: heat

Campground Gathering

soft summer breeze
brushes itself across the
warm light raised against
the chill that comes with
nightfall even at this time
of year, I watch as the
flames dance before me,
thinking they are responding to
the strumming and tuning of
the head counselor's guitar,
I finish off a share of s'mores, licking
the remnants of melted Hershey's
from my fingertips and thinking
how much the scent of chocolate
and toasted marshmellow reminds me
of how Shelley smelled when we
burrowed together in her sleeping bag
last night. Hot and sweet. Tasty.

~~~~
sight: multicolored lights
sound: live music
scent: pine
touch: foil
taste: artificial fruit flavoring