The 5 Senses Poem Challenge

[29wordsforsnow]

Sight: Mikrokosmos
Sound: Guitar
Scent: vanilla
Taste: spicy noodles
Touch: hand shake.

Hello

Even with The Hubble almost retired
I can see not just stars,
but galaxies circling the black hole
in your hazel eyes
wondering if somewhere in all this
is a microscopic me
praising the divine being above
who hugs my hand
makes me wish it was my body
Jacques tunes his guitar
to your very anthem - Substitute
Régis's sick, and the band
is no orchestra, needs a lead singer
and this is what you do
my legs made of lead all of a sudden
left and right you kiss
my cheeks, cheekily leaving a trace
of hot and tasty ramen
the corner of my lips are on fire
like billowing smoke
they rise skywards for the next two hours
in Denise's cloud
of vanilla perfume in the back of the show
together we sing along
refrains and the praises of lovers lost and won
coming through the speakers
your voice's very vibes vertigo my senses
I keep falling
...
for you

----

scent: home
sight: a ring
sound: dogs
taste: (something) stale
touch: dust

 

[I_AM_ONE_OF_YOU]

Hello

Even with The Hubble almost retired
I can see not just stars,
but galaxies circling the black hole
in your hazel eyes
wondering if somewhere in all this
is a microscopic me
praising the divine being above
who hugs my hand
makes me wish it was my body
Jacques tunes his guitar
to your very anthem - Substitute
Régis's sick, and the band
is no orchestra, needs a lead singer
and this is what you do
my legs made of lead all of a sudden
left and right you kiss
my cheeks, cheekily leaving a trace
of hot and tasty ramen
the corner of my lips are on fire
like billowing smoke
they rise skywards for the next two hours
in Denise's cloud
of vanilla perfume in the back of the show
together we sing along
refrains and the praises of lovers lost and won
coming through the speakers
your voice's very vibes vertigo my senses
I keep falling
...
for you

----

scent: home
sight: a ring
sound: dogs
taste: (something) stale
touch: dust

A dream.

A home with you is all I want.
You, as my man, my lover.
Making little babies
Like you and me
Having a few dogs and cats
A sweet home for us
And our beloved ones.

I wish, you would pull-out
A ring from no where
Surprise me, shock me
And then make me yours forever.
But my man, My dear lover,
You exist only in the books.
A character, a writer has etched out.

And so, I come back to reality
Have my stale bread and black coffee
And move on to my daily routine.
And my man in the book
I read sometimes,
And sometimes it's untouched
for months, catching dust.

And I alone keep dreaming
Fantasizing about someone
Who doesn't even exist.
A man with whom
I would want my home.
My dream man.
Is just 'A dream'

Thanks for the challenege @29wordsforsnow

Sight: Purple hue
Sound: Piano
Scent: Sandal
Taste: rose water
Touh: wax

 

[Shady_nz]

A dream.

A home with you is all I want.
You, as my man, my lover
Making little babies
Like you and me
Having a few dogs and cats
A sweet home for us
And our beloved.

I wish you would pull-out
A ring from no where
Surprise me, shock me
And then make me yours forever.
But my man, My dear lover,
You exist only in the books.
A character, a writer has etched out.

And so, I come back to reality
Have my stale bread and black coffee
And move on to my daily routine.
And my man in the book
I read sometimes,
And sometimes it's untouched
for months, catching dust.

And I alone keep dreaming
Fantasizing about someone
Who doesn't even exist.
A man with whom
I would want my home.
My dream man.
Is just 'A dream'

Thanks for the challenege @29wordsofsnow.

Sight: Purple hue
Sound: Piano
Scent: Sandal
Taste: rose water
Touh: wax

Dusk falls and the distant mountains
Shimmer in the purple hue of days end
You and I stand on the balcony holding hands

Silence all around except for the quiet sound
Of someone playing soft jazz on the piano
The scent of sandalwood caught on the evening breeze fills our nostrils
An earthy, heavy scent, rich and dark

Behind us a table, two glasses of champagne, a plate of rosewater Turkish Delights
Wait for us to share when the music's done
A candle sputters and I trace the lines of cold wax that form on the pristine cloth
Trying to read our future
but I cannot


Sight: Orange trees
Sound: Drums
Taste: Apple
Scent :Gunpowder
Touch: Silk

 

[Voboy]

Sight: Orange trees
Sound: Drums
Taste: Apple
Scent :Gunpowder
Touch: Silk

Whispered, across the hairs of my cheek,
Like silk drifts the breeze in the orchard.
The trees, rowed like all crops,
Stretch around, vaultlike, sleepy with their oranges gone:
A Cordoba Mosque of boles and bark,
Their brown, dry roof stirred by that whispered breeze.

I know it's autumn.

I know it from the hunters,
Roaming the woods along the river, their
Gunpowder drumbeats taking birds, deer;
I know it from the apple, tart in my mouth,
Dredged through the maple beside my waffles.
I know it from my lover, needing warmth now into the nights;
I know it because I've passed another birthday
With the wind on my face.




Sight: thunderclouds
Sound: eighties music
Taste: black olives
Smell: roadkilled skunk
Touch: oiled metal

 

[Angeline]

Sight: thunderclouds
Sound: eighties music
Taste: black olives
Smell: roadkilled skunk
Touch: oiled metal

Nimbostratus

There was a man who walked always
with a thundercloud over his head,
a perennial promise of storms to be,
a fictional figure, but you are real

and this is how I remember you always
unsatisfied, always the edge of storms
brewing in you, nothing I could fix, not
with years of trying. It didn't matter what

we shared, the talking politics or history
for hours, listening to Talking Heads
and R.E.M., sharing black olives on pizza,
even feeling the gravitational pull of love

for children born of long dead passion.
Nothing could break that storm cloud,
not even my own reign of tears, acrimony
pleading, prayers. The stink of failure

clung to our marriage like skunky roadkill
and finally when you began to snap,
oiling your guns and making threats
I realized the only person I could change

was me. So I did. I left you and the cloud
that still hovers, that you must have loved
more than me. You even brought it
to my mother's funeral, glaring at me

across the heads of our children.
But that's ok because It's not my cloud
anymore and when I look up
my skies are clear.

Sight: Mountains
Sound: Whisper
Taste: Ice
Smell: Smoke
Touch: Something hot

 

[I_AM_ONE_OF_YOU]

Sight: thunderclouds
Sound: eighties music
Taste: black olives
Smell: roadkilled skunk
Touch: oiled metal

Nimbostratus

There was a man who walked always
with a thundercloud over his head,
a perennial promise of storms to be,
a fictional figure, but you are real

and this is how I remember you always
unsatisfied, always the edge of storms
brewing in you, nothing I could fix, not
with years of trying. It didn't matter what

we shared, the talking politics or history
for hours, listening to Talking Heads
and R.E.M., sharing black olives on pizza,
even feeling the gravitational pull of love

for children born of long dead passion.
Nothing could break that storm cloud,
not even my own reign of tears, acrimony
pleading, prayers. The stink of failure

clung to our marriage like skunky roadkill
and finally when you began to snap,
oiling your guns and making threats
I realized the only person I could change

was me. So I did. I left you and the cloud
that still hovers, that you must have loved
more than me. You even brought it
to my mother's funeral, glaring at me

across the heads of our children.
But that's ok because It's not my cloud
anymore and when I look up
my skies are clear.

Sight: Mountains
Sound: Whisper
Taste: Ice
Smell: Smoke
Touch: Something hot

Whispers in the wilderness.

Amidst the mountains' majestic sight
Snow-capped peaks shining bright in winter's light
A man and a woman, hand in hand, ascend
Their love and warmth, a flame that never ends

The whisper of their hearts, a gentle sound
As they climb higher, their love profound
The crunch of snow beneath their feet
Echoes through the stillness, a sweet retreat

Ice kisses their lips, a fleeting taste
As they pause to gaze, their love in place
Smoke from distant fires, a savory smell
Wafts through the air, their senses to compel

In a secluded cave, they find their nest
A haven from the cold, where love finds rest
Something hot, a fire that burns so bright
Warming their skin, on this winter's night

Together they entwine, in the flickering light
Their love a beacon, shining through the night
The mountains stand guard, a silent sight
As they cherish moments, pure and bright

Their whispers echo, off the snowy walls
Skin to skin, they savor love, that enthralls
In this winter wonderland, they find their peace
A love that's warm, in the cold mountain's release.

♤♡◇♧

Thanks for the lovely challenge @Angeline.

Sight: night empty roads
Sound: crickets
Taste: smoke
Smell: ashes
Touch: frost bite

 

[EllenMore]

Sight: nylon
Sound: rain
Taste: carpet
Smell: pine
Touch: eyes



Scene

Seamed black nylons
and nothing else.
Then the blindfold
presses against my eyes
as if to punish sight,
and I kneel, head down,
wrists tied, lips kissing
the short nap of carpet.
I can hear the slow tick
of a clock, the white noise
of rain on the windowpane.

When I smell the fresh pine
of a newly oiled paddle,
I brace for his first blow.



Scent: wet grass
Sight: the Milky Way
Sound: car tires on gravel
Taste: sweet wine
Touch: upholstery

 

[Shady_nz]

Scent: Coffee
Sight:liquid
Sound: a drill
Taste : dust
Touch:fingertips

Fingertips search the contours of
The box that held so many dreams
So many hopes and wishes
Trying to find the secret drawer
The wood warmed by sunlight and memories
I smile when I hear the almost silent click

The taste of dust , thick on my tongue
As the years fly into the air
the lid is finally opened
It's quiet in the attic as I kneel, sorting out the things we kept as reminders
Photos, movie ticket stubs, restaurant menus
All those little things that made up a life, a love

Somewhere outside, the harsh, metallic sound of a drill reminds me why I am clearing this space
Leaving it all , moving to somewhere new,
Making new memories without you beside me

Just then the sound of him calling to me makes me jump
The strong smell of coffee fills the air, rich and warming
I pick up my mug, gazing into the dark liquid I see a reflection of a person I don't remember
Someone who smiles instead of crying
Laughing instead of anger and resentment at losing the person who was my world
I take a sip of the hot drink, place my mug down and slowly, with a kiss of farewell, take each item and place it back where it belongs
In the box of dreams

Sight: stars
Sound: bugle
Taste: citrus
Touch: iron
Scent: lavender

 

[I_AM_ONE_OF_YOU]

Scent: Coffee
Sight:liquid
Sound: a drill
Taste : dust
Touch:fingertips

Fingertips search the contours of
The box that held so many dreams
So many hopes and wishes
Trying to find the secret drawer
The wood warmed by sunlight and memories
I smile when I hear the almost silent click

The taste of dust , thick on my tongue
As the years fly into the air
the lid is finally opened
It's quiet in the attic as I kneel, sorting out the things we kept as reminders
Photos, movie ticket stubs, restaurant menus
All those little things that made up a life, a love

Somewhere outside, the harsh, metallic sound of a drill reminds me why I am clearing this space
Leaving it all , moving to somewhere new,
Making new memories without you beside me

Just then the sound of him calling to me makes me jump
The strong smell of coffee fills the air, rich and warming
I pick up my mug, gazing into the dark liquid I see a reflection of a person I don't remember
Someone who smiles instead of crying
Laughing instead of anger and resentment at losing the person who was my world
I take a sip of the hot drink, place my mug down and slowly, with a kiss of farewell, take each item and place it back where it belongs
In the box of dreams

Sight: stars
Sound: bugle
Taste: citrus
Touch: iron
Scent: lavender

Summer at grandma's house.

"Summer's warmth brings us to her door,
Grandma's house, where memories soar.
Under starry skies, we gather round,
Moonlight shining, stories unbound.

Grandma's tales, like constellations bright,
Guiding us through the night's delight.
Bugles sound, a playful refrain,
Frontyard adventures, joyous and plain.

Lemonade's citrus zing, a refreshing treat,
Quenching thirst, can't be beat.
Laughter echoes, as we play and roam,
Pumping iron, in a playful tone.

As we leave, a lingering scent remains,
Lavender's gentle whisper, grandma's loving refrains.
Memories of summer, forever in our hearts,
Grandma's love is a shining work of art."

♤♡◇♧

Thanks for this lovely challenge- @XShadynzX

Sight: campfire

Sound: burning flames

Taste: hot water

Touch: burns

Scent: ashes

 

[29wordsforsnow]

Sight: trees
Sound: crows
Taste: meat
Touch: grass
Scent: woods

The Gallery

long-stemmed, in variances, people's foliage a colorful assortment
it's hard to spot a single plant in this ever-moving forest of glasses
a breeze of moods bends the glorious treetops in another direction

somewhere in there, a larch waiting for me to lean on​

​

whisper and banter spirals around the territorial audience, low first
sent to postal heights with the outbreak of cawing laughter, shaken
plumage, decorum becomes loose, ruffled feathers fall to the ground

underneath, listen closely to my robin's welcome song​

aromas sit on the tongue, their footprints heavy and salted between
buds and throaty remarks, thumbed and indexed the tiny pieces slip
from plates fatally seasoned down the palates of mouthy cavemen

the flesh of your trembling lips alive between my teeth​

​

smooth silk and cool cotton brush away the night on my skin, I flee
with you on my tracks, the daylight of some undecorated wallpaper
pressed into me, only your picture hangs in front of me, you'd cut

the grassy straps of my dress into my shoulder blades​

​

all the salmon and champagne breaths of a minute ago left behind
stolen roses, cibet and oranges extracted from our olfactory organs
curiosity draws in what evaporates on my neck, an appetent embrace

of smoked pine and cedar curls the roots in my sandals​

​

all senses auctioned to you, who in this showroom cares what we do
in a corner, just like that, I feel like art in your arms, far from idle chat
we busy ourselves with generous touches, some sights yet unseen myth

~~~~~~

scent: freshly washed
sight: something opened
sound: some singing
taste: awfully tasty
touch: feathery

 

[I_AM_ONE_OF_YOU]

Nesting together.

As we step into our new home's embrace,
The scent of freshly washed antique grace,
Fills the air, a treasure to display,
A fragrance that never fades away.

Our sight is met with luggage open wide,
Unpacking memories, side by side,
Organizing dreams, and hopes anew,
Together, our future, we pursue.

The sound of singing fills the space,
As we arrange, our love finds its place,
In harmony, our hearts beat as one,
In this new home, our love has just begun.

After tiring efforts of arranging with care,
Even the soup, is awfully tasty to share,
Savoring flavors, of love and delight,
In this new home, our hearts take flight.

On the feathery couch, we collide,
In each other's embrace, our love resides,
Soft and gentle, like a summer breeze,
In this new home, our love finds ease.

Thank you @29wordsforsnow for the lovely challenge.

♤♡◇♧

scent: petrichor
sight: open fields
sound: cars honking
taste: rain drops
touch: hot

 

[Shady_nz]

Flames shine bright in your eyes as they meet
Mine across the fire pit
The sound of laughter slowly fades around us
The people here seem to disappear
As we look at each other and remember

Remember a time when we sat close together
Here on the summer beach
The scent of burnt marshmallow still fresh in my memory
The sugary taste under the crisp shell bursts in my mouth

Holding my breath, I stand and walk over to you
Sitting down by your side, I rest my head on your shoulder
Taking your face in my hands, I kiss your lips
Soft as feathers but still warm and firm
You return the kiss with gentle pressure
"Hello, remember me?"

Sight: Sun
Sound: Harp music
Taste: Butter
Touch: Water
Scent: Apples

 

[I_AM_ONE_OF_YOU]

Sight: Sun
Sound: Harp music
Taste: Butter
Touch: Water
Scent: Apples


I still remember that day
the sun ate up your butter
pecan skin

Your hair was all American
as wafted as apple pie blown
on the wind

While Sugar Blue played like
cool water, you dropped
you bikini top and bottoms


Sight: Jacuzzi
Sound: Jazz
Taste: Jam
Touch: Jump

Date night serenade.

As we sink into the Jacuzzi's warm embrace,
Sight of each other, a loving gaze,
Bubbles rise, like our hearts in delight,
In this intimate space, our love takes flight.

Soft candlelight flickers, shadows dance and play,
Reflecting the love we share, in every way,
The world outside fades, as we indulge in bliss,
Together, lost in love's sweet, tender kiss.

Jazz melodies whisper sweet nothings in our ear,
As we sway, hand in hand, our love drawing near,
Entwined bodies, moving as one, a sensual treat,
Lost in the rhythm, our love skips a beat.

Wine glasses clink, and laughter fills the air,
Like bread butter and jam, life seems easier.
Karaoke nights, where love knows no bounds,
In each other's arms, our hearts spin around.

We jump, we dance, we make merry, and play,
Touching, teasing, in our own sweet way,
Pillow fights, and snuggles, a love so true,
In each other's arms, our hearts renew.

As night descends, and the evening unwinds,
Jasmine mist surrounds us, a sweet, sweet find,
In each other's arms, we drift off to sleep,
Date night magic, our love forever keeps.

In this haven of love, we find our peaceful nest,
A sanctuary of devotion, where we're blessed,
Together, forever, our love will shine so bright,
A date night serenade, that will last through the night.

♤♡◇♧

Thanks for the lovely challenge - @42Below

Sight: Bucket full of water
Sound: water filling
Taste: spicy
Touch: mobile phone
Scent: green fields

 

[Remec]

sight: laundry
sound: laughter
taste: birthday cake
touch: hug
scent: perfume

Not Seperated Enough

I tried;
no really,
granted I spent much of
the day in my study,
but hearing the children laughing
almost made me smile,
then she came in with a plate for me,
we laughed together as I
tried the cake;
wasn't bad, store bought, of course,
and she leaned in to whisper
some thanks to me for coming out
at all, showing some familial solidarity,
then we hugged and my face was engulfed
by her overuse of Le Fleur,
and looking over her shoulder
I could see the mounds and
mounds of laundry all triaged and waiting
for their turn in the machines,
and I remembered why
I wasn't in this household any more.

---

sight: drunken people
sound: something obnoxious
scent: sweat
touch: greasy
taste: salty

 

[Kadyia]

Morning Beach


Sunlight spills,
Down the shore,
Drunken figures stagger,
Laughter, loud and crude
My man runs
I cook.
On his return
I relax again
His sweat blends
with bacon’s greasy warmth,
We kiss,
salt on our tongues.
Homeless on the beach—
Paradise, I suppose.

Sight: rosary beads
Sound: rattle
Scent: coffee
Touch: rough
Taste: bitter

 

[goldytheGoldfish]

They do! Then they stare blankly like they don't know what you are
running loops in wild fits, in the end even rejecting water itself. They just shut down.
Stupid fucking morons. This one's for you. Doesn't even hurt.

Sight: poverty
Sound: silence
Scent: bread
Touch: plastic
Taste: bitter

 

[Shady_nz]

Sight: poverty
Sound: silence
Scent: bread
Touch: plastic
Taste: bitter

Shattered eyes in blank faces
Follow me as I walk the dusty streets
Silence follows also , a constant companion
Happiness is a stranger here, and joy is not known
A glimpse of poverty seen in every doorway
Not hidden, but still the proud defiant look
of people down, but not broken.
Stopping at a store, the faded remnants of it's glory
Are shrouded in gloom as dust motes dance in the air
Sunlight doesn't reach far in to the space and the air is chilly
No one stops me as I walk in and touch the cold plastic
of covering sheets that hide the once bright chairs and tables
Standing for a moment in the darkness, where sunlight doesn't reach,
I try to remember what this place once was, bright lights and music,
laughter, and happy faces, the scent of freshly baked bread once
filled the air with it's rich aroma
Now, the only scent is that of mildew and damp, with mouse droppings covering the floor.
Gingerly I step around the mess and try not to breathe too deep.
I leave the store with memories of happier times with my family, now all gone,
Tears I didn't know I was crying ,fill my mouth and the taste of them is bitter..



Scent: Smoke
Sight: Train
Taste : Fish
Sound: Waves
Touch: Steel

 

[Remec]

Scent: Smoke
Sight: Train
Taste : Fish
Sound: Waves
Touch: Steel

Last Supper

I had asked for an out of the way booth,
somewhere that we could,
hopefully,
finally get in that talk that had been
waiting for seemingly forever,
or that we both had been avoiding
which was mostly the same thing;

The table they gave us wasn't a booth,
but it was amazing,
right at one of the side windows
where you could see the looming shadows
of the mountains on the horizon,
the steaming train engine with its string of
car sitting just so on the tracks;

Between the color of the decor and the
ambience hanging in the air with soft instrumental
tracks mixed with the whoosh of winds,
the crash of waves, it was no wonder we both
ordered seafood--the platter with a bit of fish,
some shrimp, and a lobster for each of us,
I remember how the cracker for the shell had felt
in my palm, cold steel tool ready to
go to work;

Only thing to complain about was how the chefs
had the kitchen door propped just enough
that we could tell exactly when something blackened
was being fixed by the scent of cajun spices
in the light smoke trickling
across to our table.

If only the rest of our anniversary was as
memorable as dinner had been.

---

sight: tears
scent: sweat
sound: shame
taste: sweet
touch: rain

 

[Shady_nz]

sight: tears
scent: sweat
sound: shame
taste: sweet
touch: rain

Watching the rain pouring from the sky onto the windowpane,
I touch the drops as they form on the glass
trying to make them stay but I cannot
The room is heavy with the scent of sweat
A musky reminder of what we did here
I still taste the sweetness of your kisses
but the sound of shameful words continue to ring in my ears
The words I will not own, the words of submission
of ownership, which will never pass my lips again
One last look in the mirror before I leave,
and the only thing I see are the tears falling from my eyes


Sight: River
Sound: Thunder
Taste: Salt
Touch: Wool
Scent: Bacon

 

[Walkabout33]

Taste: lips

Touch: silk on skin

Smell: autumn leaves

See: a misty morning

Hear: river tumbling over stones

 

[Voboy]

Sight: River
Sound: Thunder
Taste: Salt
Touch: Wool
Scent: Bacon

Just above a beach, wracked,
The little river runs in haste
Where freshets tumble in tiny
Thunderclaps, all their own.

Driftwood fires, sand-backed,
Spill salty smoke you can taste
On tongue and lips, while spiny
Flames lick up from wood bleached like bone.

The long, tired day stretches ahead,
The smell of bacon chiseling you from your bed.

Taste: lips

Touch: silk on skin

Smell: autumn leaves

See: a misty morning

Hear: river tumbling over stones

 

[Piscator]

Just above a beach, wracked,
The little river runs in haste
Where freshets tumble in tiny
Thunderclaps, all their own.

Driftwood fires, sand-backed,
Spill salty smoke you can taste
On tongue and lips, while spiny
Flames lick up from wood bleached like bone.

The long, tired day stretches ahead,
The smell of bacon chiseling you from your bed.

 

[Piscator]

Taste: lips

Touch: silk on skin

Smell: autumn leaves

See: a misty morning.

Hear: river stones tumbling.


Spring freshet rises
river stones tumble
fractional friction
smoothing leaving
slingshot fodder

taste: maple sap
feel: sticky but not yet syrup
first pussy willow brushing your cheek
smell: wood smoke but not the California kind
see: Coltsfoot emeging through snow

 

[Angeline]

taste: maple sap
feel: sticky but not yet syrup
first pussy willow brushing your cheek
smell: wood smoke but not the California kind
see: Coltsfoot emerging through snow

The sap is a sticky promise
of Spring, of Earth's awakening.
Persephone returns,

entreats frozen ground open,
be fecund, damp and inviting,
pungent with mud and smoky
detritus of fading winter.

Come Persephone! Command
the season change! Show me

yellow whorls of coltsfoot, bright
beaming in the snow. Now is time
revealed: its passing soft
as fuzzy gray buds, pussy willows
soft to caress my skin.

***********

See: something purple
Hear: music (be specific)
Smell: honey
Taste: lemon
Touch: skin

 

[_Land]

See: something purple
Hear: music (be specific)
Smell: honey
Taste: lemon
Touch: skin

“Bruised Light"
by Bear Sage

The lamp wore purple—
not royal, not soft,
but deep
like a bruise you ask to be pressed.

Silk draped over its mouth
spoke in shadows,
casting her skin in violet confession.

Etta crooned from the corner—
"Something told me it was over..."
and the ache in her voice
became another body in the room,
watching, weeping, wanting.

The air, thick with honey—
not sweet, but heady.
Sticky in the lungs.
Every inhale a golden tongue.

He tasted like lemon—
bite and burn,
the aftershock of truth
dragged slow across her lips.

Their skin
spoke a language older than words.
His chest, warm altar.
Her fingertips, prayer and promise
pressed to flesh.

Nothing moved
but breath.
Nothing sang
but longing.

And the silk over the lamp
fluttered once—
a held moan,
a gasp of light
that dared to be touched.


Next !!!!!

See: lovers
Hear: dancing
Smell: stale beer
Taste: unripened persimmons
Touch: sandpaper