The 5 Senses Poem Challenge

[todski28]

Big Day Out

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


four dollars eighty paid
ice formed inside the neck
tilted head and fist squeeze
bam electric blue icy chips
rain down in blueberry flavoured
awesome

bodies
bumper to bumper
ass to crotch
ass to ass

music floats in slow motion
as the strobe bursts sundance rave patterns
that feel like foil on fillings

the bar smells of metho and pinesol
fresh wiped like the dopey daze from my face
when you sauntered over
all swagger and sex
your lip gloss screamed lick me off

sweat drips out of every pore
we dance in the limelight of stares
hands everywhere
you still linger on my lips
a hangover of motion
my back aches

the bruise on my pelvis line
proof that your back must ache too

sight: bruised skin
sound: echo
scent: nail polish
taste: morning breath
touch: solid ground

 

[TOKUQINN]

Senses That Make No Sense

Taste: Soma Homa
Touch:Ouch
Smell: Hell
hear: Deer
see: Sea

Senses That Make No Sense

I put my eyes
my nose
my ears
my tongue
my hands
my sixth sense
in a cabinet
before I go to sleep
all my senses rest in there
till morning.

TOKUQINN
ISTANBUL/TURKEY.

 

[Remec]

Taste: Soma Homa
Touch:Ouch
Smell: Hell
hear: Deer
see: Sea

Reflection

My hotel room has a balcony,
I sit there sometimes,
sit and let the day roll off me
as the sun sets slowly beneath
the distant sea,

You would think it would be refreshing,
but not as much as I'd like,
I lounge in the fading daylight and let
the sound of does and fawns in the
copses bordering the hotel lull me
to dreaming with the soft swish of
the tree branches and ferns against
the down-like fur,

But dreaming is what got me here to
begin with, letting myself hold out the hope
that Sartre was wrong about Other People,
a wish I know is impossible as their scent
wafts up on the breeze from the pool area,
sweat and sun lotion and stale cigarettes
mingled with sex and lust and all the
underlying anger that is the perfect
hallmark of Other People,

I would go down and try to blend in
with the crowd, but I know being so close
would just make me cringe and draw back
from the pain of being in their proximity,
of the ouches touching them would inflict
upon my soul as much as my skin and body.

Better to sit at a distance and make toasts
with whatever soma homa the hotel minibar
happens to have in stock.

~~~~~
sight: unicorn
sound: banshee
smell: Chanel No 5
touch: chill
taste: Swedish fish

 

[Trixareforkids]

Removed


~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sight: toothless grin
Sound: cat's meow
Smell: cedar
Touch: rough hewn wood
Taste: moonshine

 

[Piscator]

Backwoods

The aroma of cedar
permeates the closet.
Outside the cat meows
as we swig moonshine
that tastes of petrol
but works.
Your give me
that toothless grin
as you hand touches
my rough hewn wood
and your mouth opens
to suck it till
I cum.



Sight: bare trees in snow
Sound: silence
Smell: wood smoke
Touch: piercing cold
Taste: maple

 

[Angeline]

Sight: bare trees in snow
Sound: silence
Smell: wood smoke
Touch: piercing cold
Taste: maple

They are hands that reach
from the Underworld. Up
from the ground they tremble,
fingers on wrists thin or stout.
They shiver in silence shiver
when the wind speaks.

They don't know acrid
smoke when it slips blue
with the wind nor errant
drops of sap froze to bark,
inherent sweetness no more
than a promise in amber.

They just reach
their supplicant fingers
to the sky, to Olympus
begging please
bring Persephone home
to mama again.

~~~

Sight: carnival
Sound: whisper
Smell: liquor
Touch: skin
Taste: cotton candy

 

[todski28]

Sight: carnival
Sound: whisper
Smell: liquor
Touch: skin
Taste: cotton candy

it melts into a small pink ball
of caramelised sugar
saliva floods wet as she whispers
such devilish things
typical woman only one thing on her mind

her liquored breath hot with heady arousal
fingers lace like lattice in mine
she is a carnival funhouse
and I'm big enough to ride
her thrills and curves
a rush of adrenaline
injected straight to the veins


sight: dancing
sound: creak
scent: something delicious
touch: sticky
taste: cheese

 

[Lyricalli]

sight: dancing
sound: creak
scent: something delicious
touch: sticky
taste: cheese


Rain dances
down the window panes
pelting beat mixed
with the creak of the bed
you twist in your sleep

The spicy scent of you
twirls in the humid air
finds harmony with
notes of sweat
and sex
and me

Rain's rhythm
plays a sleepy tune
holds me in its sway
the pick-up line
that began our pas de deux
so cheesy it still lingers
with the taste of you
on my tongue


sight: shadow
sound: a distant hum
scent: newly dug soil
touch: something prickly
taste: basil

 

[greenmountaineer]

Northern Latitude

The ground's too stiff for maypoles,
but two weeks later peepers hum
whose toe pads dig deep in the mud
on behalf of one thousand eggs
to breed more life, what isn't feed
for other prickly creatures.

It seems like May is just two weeks
you say to the blood red setting sun
while in the shadows June bugs make
more sounds seeking love with their wings
that with the distant drumming from gullets
treat you to a symphony

as you inhale more heat, maybe musk,
something sweet, something like basil
that blooms in July but all too soon
turns the erstwhile pungent leaves
a wilted yellow next to the fallow
under the chill of a harvest moon.



taste: cookies
touch: satin
smell: perfume
see: a baseball
hear: Bruce Springstein

 

[Lyricalli]

taste: cookies
touch: satin
smell: perfume
see: a baseball
hear: Bruce Springsteen


It was our summer
beach days
baseball games
that damned cap
took years off your face
Did I look twice your age?
It was only one little decade

Smooth satin sheets
(bought for me?)
perfumed with sunscreen
didn't stand a chance
against the sand
or the gingersnaps
you'd reach for after

It's a little hazy
like the sun
that filled those days
glorious
thundering
down the road
speakers blaring
"She's the One"
my hand on your thigh
you sang along


sight: bubbles
sound: clock ticking
scent: fresh air
touch: something fuzzy
taste: buttermilk

 

[greenmountaineer]

Amazing how on such short notice you wrote something so remarkable.

 

[Lyricalli]

Amazing how on such short notice you wrote something so remarkable.

Thank you for the senses you provided. It was Springsteen that made me feel like it was something I had to write.

The compliment is more than I ever expected, and I really appreciate it.

 

[Angeline]

sight: bubbles
sound: clock ticking
scent: fresh air
touch: something fuzzy
taste: buttermilk

Time melts like a clock draped
on a branch and minutes
are invisible, ticking out
of focus as if hours and days
inhabit a watery depth.
Such is this

fuzzy world where intervals
of life are sealed in separate
bubbles that float just
out of reach. My God

I only dream

of reality, of places where life is
tangy and rich as buttermilk
fresh air birdsong something
more persistent than memory.

sight: sparrow
sound: wind
scent: rain
touch: something soft
taste: water

 

[UnderYourSpell]

sight: sparrow
sound: wind
scent: rain
touch: something soft
taste: water
.
.
What better way to convalesce
than a gentle canine head
beneath my fingers,
watching Sparrows just beyond
the door, bathe and drink
after a shower? As the wind
sighs in my tall trees
I echo the sigh and am at peace.
.
sight: banana peel
sound: sneeze
scent: sweat
touch: stubble
taste: cheese

 

[Rogueslady]

sight: banana peel
sound: sneeze
scent: sweat
touch: stubble
taste: cheese


As I walked into my cabin in search of something to rid my mouth,
of the latest blue cheese tasting cum that was still in my mouth,
Upon opening the door I stumbled back as the strong scent of body odor,
like someone who had been working up a sweat pounding someones ass,
Determined to get to the bottom of what was going on that I walked in the door,
only to find that my ass is about to be kicked,
So I found my razor still has the rough stubbly edges.
I was so focused that I slipped on a banana peel that brought me to a sneezing halt.

 

[Trixareforkids]

I'm bumping with a list as the last challenger forgot to leave one...

Sight: odd trees
Sound: wind chimes
Scent: mint
Touch: something itchy
Taste: metallic

 

[todski28]

I'm bumping with a list as the last challenger forgot to leave one...

Sight: odd trees
Sound: wind chimes
Scent: mint
Touch: something itchy
Taste: metallic

"Redemption"

moonlight beams down bright
conspiratory light that whispers
such goulish words,

there they twist in this forgotten place
bent at the bough like they tried
to strike the ground
that sprang fourth their life
yet failed to nourish them
beyond these mishappen things
no other seeds have sprung
from this cliff

chimes jangle a shivering chill
of wood and steel
a lament
as if the wind cries
for these orphaned cripples

I prepare my thoughs
amid these abandoned remnants of life
amid the rocks and rubble
amid the remnants of sanity

i giggle the giggle of mad men
high pitched the falsetto
rips at my throat
The blades whispers from its sheath
it speaks in hush and sibilance
smoky steel that steals the souls
of any who taste the blade

I am here to hear myself talk
about the insanity
about the pale moonlight
that makes my skin itch
i want to taste black and mint
crushed together like shadows
mingle when the light is cut from your eyes
i sigh the sigh of failure
of resignation

and there at the base of one of those
twisted trees
a flower blooms.

Taste: success
touch: oak
sight: headlights
sound: music
scent: smoke

 

[Lyricalli]

Taste: success
touch: oak
sight: headlights
sound: music
scent: smoke



Smoke drifts from
autumn chimneys
fills the air
floats through my car
as the lights
lead me home

That song
now our song
echoes against the windows
pulses through my veins
clenches my hands on
the steering wheel so
firmly with the memory
of your oak
headboard

Was the victory mine
or yours?
Bittersweet is the
flavor du jour
I like my
chocolate dark



Taste: blackberries
Touch: liquid
Sight: insect
Sound: conversation
Scent: rain

 

[KatieJones]

Taste: blackberries
Touch: liquid
Sight: insect
Sound: conversation
Scent: rain

Still

I am liquid against the hammock shores
hoping to remain without thought
but instead the train is fueled
by my stillness and arrives unbidden
to the station. It takes off down the tracks
when I hear a wordless argument
between a red squirrel and a chipmunk
that ends when the hickory nut in question falls
into the raspberry bushes silencing
the locusts who otherwise announce the obvious
heat in a one-sided conversation that reminds
me of the older ladies who stand by the produce
in the grocery store while their loneliness rains
down around them so hard that people can smell it
and put up invisible umbrellas to avoid
being splashed by stories
about long-dead husbands who once dropped
baskets of bitter blackberries on their toes.

As I search for myself
amongst the passengers I wonder
if I should let more chipmunks pass
to share in the bounty of the trees
and avoid looking for what I have lost
in the brambles. To patiently listen
to the locusts and older ladies
and revel both in what is and what was
because the question is not actually
for whom the bell tolls
for there is no sound beneath the ground.
Better to ponder as to when
your train will stop and slowly drift
backwards and when time will trade
your umbrella for the rain.

Taste: birch bark
Touch: sap
Sight: sails
Sound: sea gull
Scent: dried salt

 

[todski28]

Taste: birch bark
Touch: sap
Sight: sails
Sound: sea gull
Scent: dried salt


The gulls circle their piercing cry
rides the air as they glide
hope on the wing

weeks of sails flapping in the breeze
and skin crusted in the stench of dried sea salt
has us yearning
for
the touch of land
the taste of chilled beer

not the after taste of birch bark
on dried biscuits and

The bough clunks against the dock
a hollow knock that announces our arrival
the boys cheer wild passion
I smirk as we clambour to shore
leave them to their revels
wander through memories
that bend and twist
along each street

To her door.....
my fist clunks
a hollow knock that announces my arrival
she greets me with that wicked grin
melts against me like
sap
thick honeyed lips
that taste of home

Sight: two people
sound: sounds of hammering
Taste: poison
touch: smoothe
scent: water

 

[Black13]

Sight: two people
sound: sounds of hammering
Taste: poison
touch: smoothe
scent: water

Abruptly, he wakes to the jarring sound
Of hammering on metal, wood, and stone
That shakes his fading vision with each pound.
Beneath him, he sees two men stand alone,
Watching a vial of glass fall and then crack.
The hammers crash inside his head with each
Shard, scattered on the bleak shore. In the back
Of his throat, a taste just within his reach,
The sweet and bitter poison which just woke
Him out of his own self. His gaze now locks
From above, as his failing body chokes,
Then falls like hammers on the smoothened rocks.
A glimpse of each other, mind and soul destroyed.
The absent scent of water forms the void.

Sight: A tarantula
Sound: A train horn
Taste: Mint-flavored antacid tablet
Touch: Poison Ivy
Smell: Earthworms after a rain storm

 

[Angeline]

Sight: A tarantula
Sound: A train horn
Taste: Mint-flavored antacid tablet
Touch: Poison Ivy
Smell: Earthworms after a rain storm
~

Aftermath

I take the steps oh so
careful of parts I can't
feel just trying to get on
the good foot and wary
of the tarantula

hawk wasp who lives between
the azalea and the poison
ivy. He's bright poison blue
and orange and can take down
the biggest spiders I see:
big old redneck mountain
spiders. One sting? Buh-bye.

I make it unscathed
to the mailbox, past puddles,
through damp harbinger air
gloomy and worms drowned
like ten miles of loam,
worms you can almost read.

Bedtime is Pillsapalooza
with a Maalox chaser. Lay
me down pray listen
to the neighbor's car
and the fading whistle
of the 2:14 into Raleigh.
Everybody's going some
where but me.
~

Sight: Overripe banana
Sound: Wheels on gravel
Taste: Bitter pill
Touch: fruit peelings (your choice of fruit)
Smell: smoke

 

[Piscator]

Sight: Overripe banana
Sound: Wheels on gravel
Taste: Bitter pill
Touch: fruit peelings (your choice of fruit)
Smell: smoke

Overripe

He takes his quinine tablet
with club soda
but no alcohol
these days,
opens his balcony
to inhale the morning smog
and lights a fag
to add his bit
while listening to
Lucinda wail
Car Wheels on a Gravel Road.
Back in the kitchen,
he shoos the fruit flies
from the almost
black banana
and mashes it
on top of the peanut butter
tops it with another piece
of Wonder White
and tosses the slippery peel
to the sidewalk
for another
cartoon character
to flip/slip on.
HaHa


Sight: distant rain cloud
Sound: drum roll
Taste: fullness
Touch: slime
Smell: vinegar

 

[champagne1982]

Overripe


Sight: distant rain cloud
Sound: drum roll
Taste: fullness
Touch: slime
Smell: vinegar

Cloud Burst

Perched on precarious ground above a precipice
scoured by sand, and time, and weather blown
in by wind; harsh as the bite of old wine aged
in a barrel softened with age and pickled
vintages soured to vinegar. The suspense
of thunder rolls off the black horizon hammering
an urgent call punctuated by lightning glares
across the sky until we climax. I taste
the swollen emotion of gratification, self-
satisfaction expressed in the slippery traces
of you, left on my thighs, while I lean over the edge.

Sight: blue
Sound: slap
Taste: malt
Touch: sting
Smell: dust

 

[Neonurotic]

Horseplay

The blue light of a smart, dumb phone
disturbs my sleep but it is the mix of
barley, malt wheat and bitter hops
that satisfies the deprived in a less
fitful slumber, temporarily, as it is
an untimely reprieve, interrupted.

Slap! and sting of the crop,
she wants to play horsey again
and of course, I am that horse
with a butt-plug tail and whinnies
into the hateful, dusty stall, wrecking
my hay fever, as she wrecks me.



sight - traffic
sound - hiss of a espresso machine
taste - salted caramel
touch - fur
smell - coffee