Five Senses: Second Cummings

[Piscator]

The Five Senses Poem Challenge predates my time here and was started by "guest” on January 26, 2008 with the following guidelines " Write a poem that includes the five senses. Use any form, any length. That's it. Easy enough, eh? Here's the kicker. You have to use the five words assigned by the poster before you then you write your poem and assign another five senses words to the following poet. However, if the poet so chooses, they can use any form of those words and if they don't particularly like the chosen word, they can use their trusty thesaurus."

However, if you're slow like me the poem you craft using those 5 sensory cues may be usurped by another PFD poet leaving your poem hanging. This thread offers you a venue to display your hidden gems.

 

[Angeline]

Remec posted these sense prompts in 2008.

Taste: chicken
Touch: silk
Smell: vanilla
Sound: bells
Sight: schoolchildren
******************************

Maine, 2008

Sometimes I dream of him,
the old poet in his final years,
tall and gaunt, wandering
among schoolchildren and sisters,
bells ringing like choirs and him
trying to show that dancer and dance
are one, that all is wrapped
in the same silken cloths of Heaven,

but you grow impatient
with my endless dreaming
and considering, all my angels
babbling on the head of a pin.

Come to bed. It's late.

I love to rub my face on your neck
and chest, drink in the scent of you:
skin, vanilla, patchouli,
but when I tell you this, my earthy lover,
you gleam up from my thighs
and say everything tastes
like chicken.

 

[Angeline]

These senses were originally posted by the fabulous BooMerengue (may her memory always be a blessing) in 2012.

smell; heat from the street
hear; discordant banjos, repeating same riff, over and over
taste; cake icing
see; waves, very thin and silky
feel; guilty, happy
********************


August Blues, 2012

August sun shimmers
and lord but it's humid. Clouds
pile on and by noon thunder claps
and the metallic tang wants to drown
my senses in lethargy or maybe
restlessness.

Somewhere up the mountain
banjos ring discordant jigs
or maybe it's rain on tin, plink
and jangle on the roof
of my discontent, rainbows fade
and droop, leaching joy,
turning gray.

What is it with me today?

I'll never be so sweet as icing
tipped and twirled, perfected
on a party cake. Music plays
in sprightly notes and still I ache,
dreams slipping in my wake, sad
toes dipping into this thin
silky spatter at the edge
of a flat, featureless sea.

Oh bittersweet me, wallowing
in a funk that what I want
is ever far away.

 

[Angeline]

Sight: A landmark
Sound: Distant music
Smell: Very fresh air
Taste: Something tart, slightly acid
Touch: Hair, or fur
*************************


Bar Harbor, 2004

We stayed at the Villager Motel.
It was late October, past the prime
of leaf peeper season, a little
quieter and that first sharp tang
of winter's breath on the sea air,
a little precursor of the long dark
months to come: ice cream now;
down parkas and snow plows soon.

We were decidedly tipsy
after knocking back Stoly
and cranberry juice, enough
so that even the lazy man's
lobster dinners couldn't hold us
back, hips bumping companionably,
arms round each other's waists,
listening to drifts of music floating
from the downtown bars.

We stopped to look at the Margaret Todd
anchored in the harbor, shining
in the moonlight.

It was a perfect moment,
enough to sober us into a soul
kiss, tongue tips dancing,
my cranberry sigh on your open mouth,
your big hands moving in my hair.

 

[Piscator]

deuxième fois déjà écrit

Sight: A landmark
Sound: Distant music
Smell: Very fresh air
Taste: Something tart, slightly acid
Touch: Hair, or fur.

The Beacon Hotel

The Beacon Hotel, wasn’t among the
city’s official landmarks but it drew us
in, as the beer was cheap, the music so
loud you could hear it three blocks down
and they didn’t check ID’s too closely.
Although if you wanted fresh prairie air,
you had to go windward side of the parking
lot as the inside air was thick with smoke
from cigarettes, cigars and those pipe
smoking pseudo-intellectuals and the
back porch redolent with sweet Mary Jane.

We’d wander in late from our C-league
intramural broomball game and order
the table covered with draft, as some
of the guys would shower before coming
to the bar; sometimes, I’d add a slice of
lime even though it wasn’t Dos Equis.

If I was lucky, Pam would be there
alone, half-pissed and in that amiable
amourous mood or hers and I’d feel
her up under her short shirt dress to
see if it would be shaved of furry
pussy when we fucked that night.

 

[champagne1982]

hear: a circus
smell: cotton candy
taste: someone's mouth
see: fire
feel: excited

The Simple Things

The steam calliope calls
with all the shrill whistles
of a carnival shill
dressed in his bowler hat
and bowtie, jabbering
about how his mother
could knock down those pins
every time. The oompa pa pa
back beat heard all the way
back to town from out in
that farmer's field.

The sights, the smells,
the noise and the crowd's
excitement filled the summer
along with the burnt sugar
smell wafting from the
centrifuge spinning
clouds of sugar
into the air, as the vendor
captures the melty sweet
on a narrow paper cone.
"That'll be a nickle!"

Step right up, folks!
Be amazed as the strong man
carries the fat lady up
onto the stage and be a part
of the wedding of the Century!

Be thrilled by the Flying Wallendas
performing without a net!

Watch in awe as Mysterio
saws a woman in half
then makes her whole again
with a wave of his magic wand!

Over in front of the gypsy caravan
a dark man dressed in a skimpy
Polynesian costume, beats out
a strange dance, punctuated
with fiery spouts from pursed lips,
like dragon breath made man-sized.

And there, in the shade
cast by the lone tree
you lowered your lips to mine
and gave me a taste
off your tongue of the sponge
toffee caramel mingled
with the kiss you promised
you'd give when the circus
big top came to town.

 

[Piscator]

Taste: umami
Sight: something wavering
Sound: a new song that you like
touch: something sensual
Scent: something that makes you feel

Rastaboi

Yo go and tell ur Mamie
bout this new flavor called umami
it’ll fill ur mouth with fullness
taste like pussy of ur Mistress
breath deep you’ll catch the scent
of his sweat and passion spent.

While she bogies to Marsalis
perhaps, she’ll release ur penis
just to tease ur wavering hardness.

Sigh,Calli beat me too it but this too needed a bump.
Also double posted this as my Poem of the Day

 

[Lyricalli]

Sigh,Calli beat me too it but this too needed a bump.
Also double posted this as my Poem of the Day

It was a good list Very different takes on it hehe

 

[Sexy_Singer]

Sight: A landmark
Sound: Distant music
Smell: Very fresh air
Taste: Something tart, slightly acid
Touch: Hair, or fur
*************************


Bar Harbor, 2004

We stayed at the Villager Motel.
It was late October, past the prime
of leaf peeper season, a little
quieter and that first sharp tang
of winter's breath on the sea air,
a little precursor of the long dark
months to come: ice cream now;
down parkas and snow plows soon.

We were decidedly tipsy
after knocking back Stoly
and cranberry juice, enough
so that even the lazy man's
lobster dinners couldn't hold us
back, hips bumping companionably,
arms round each other's waists,
listening to drifts of music floating
from the downtown bars.

We stopped to look at the Margaret Todd
anchored in the harbor, shining
in the moonlight.

It was a perfect moment,
enough to sober us into a soul
kiss, tongue tips dancing,
my cranberry sigh on your open mouth,
your big hands moving in my hair.

Sexy.

 

[Sexy_Singer]

The Simple Things

The steam calliope calls
with all the shrill whistles
of a carnival shill
dressed in his bowler hat
and bowtie, jabbering
about how his mother
could knock down those pins
every time. The oompa pa pa
back beat heard all the way
back to town from out in
that farmer's field.

The sights, the smells,
the noise and the crowd's
excitement filled the summer
along with the burnt sugar
smell wafting from the
centrifuge spinning
clouds of sugar
into the air, as the vendor
captures the melty sweet
on a narrow paper cone.
"That'll be a nickle!"

Step right up, folks!
Be amazed as the strong man
carries the fat lady up
onto the stage and be a part
of the wedding of the Century!

Be thrilled by the Flying Wallendas
performing without a net!

Watch in awe as Mysterio
saws a woman in half
then makes her whole again
with a wave of his magic wand!

Over in front of the gypsy caravan
a dark man dressed in a skimpy
Polynesian costume, beats out
a strange dance, punctuated
with fiery spouts from pursed lips,
like dragon breath made man-sized.

And there, in the shade
cast by the lone tree
you lowered your lips to mine
and gave me a taste
off your tongue of the sponge
toffee caramel mingled
with the kiss you promised
you'd give when the circus
big top came to town.

Creative. Enjoyed it. Loved the ending!

 

[29wordsforsnow]

Literally a blink of an eye too late

taste - something bubbly
touch - string
sight - dark clouds
smell - coffee
sound - comfort

The same cup

9:42 am and
nothing is well
the kitchen looks
like a breeding hell
of plates, forks, knifes
used on days I cannot tell
finally made the dishwater run

yesterday's tea
long gone, only the bag
and its life-saving string still
attached, glued to your favorite cup
takes a minute to take it out, and deposit it
for decomposing, unlike you

The crema
a thunderstorm
in the earthenware mug
cumulonimbi breathing the bitter
aroma of a fresh start into the day, awake
or not asleep the tiny bubbles on top unleash
memories, and by chance, today, the teaspoon's stir
sounds just like yours, raining teardrops

I'm prepared
not, like always
facing these walls
outside, where behind
we put flowers on the ground
to wilt, I've brought daisies for you
and the mess in my head

taste - green apple
touch - a musical instrument
scent - overly floral
sight - hiding hands
sound - <the incoming sound of "someone just posted a message in this thread">

 

[Lyricalli]

Literally a blink of an eye too late

taste - green apple
touch - a musical instrument
scent - overly floral
sight - hiding hands
sound - <the incoming sound of "someone just posted a message in this thread">

I used your words at the end of my latest. Let me be both tired and lazy, so they're much appreciated

 

[Lyricalli]

@29wordsforsnow And, by the way, I love what you did with the ones I'd left behind. It's a really good poem. Very touching.

 

[29wordsforsnow]

@29wordsforsnow And, by the way, I love what you did with the ones I'd left behind. It's a really good poem. Very touching.

Thank you so much. Thinking about the morning chaos in the kitchen all those prompts looked so perfect to create a little story.

 

[Piscator]

A partial response to an earlier five senses challenge response that had moved on before I'd finished

Sight-lined paper


The yellow notepad remains
blank intimidating me as I
recall Hemingway’s pungent
quote “The first draft is always shit”
and for me the second too
too as I fiddle with the keyboard
and can’t help thinking that
whoever described the scent
of a hyacinth as it opens as
“pumpingly potent and intoxicating”
definitely needs an Ex-lax along
with their alliteration points.

 

[29wordsforsnow]

(by three minutes...)

Sight - horizon
Smell - nostalgia
Taste - bland
Touch - yourself
Sound - night

Pointless

in the darkest hour of this half-assed city
the highest place is just enough to sit
dangly legs above the thirteenth floor
offers the fastest way down and more
so watching the street lights the upside-down
starry sky cut by a line from the midnight blue ocean above whales of tomorrow's rain passing
through the constant clicks of the yellow traffic
lights of retired fashion accompanied by dull
emissions of the candy manufactory very close
to the perfume you wore when you touched me
here on this lonely lookout I can now only feel
stubble and breadcrumbs so mind-numbingly
stale like the memory of your farewell kiss
echoed so many times I forgot the...rhyme

 

[OtherMan]

FUN TO BE HAD!!!

From Champagne1982 above…

Sight: Birch bark
Sound: Splash
Taste: acrid
Touch: Sting
Smell: Smoke


The barks of birch splash black on white
in photonegative -
besmirching slash of dark in light
through flamings that they live

when acrid, acid, stinging smoke
cuts deep within their skin
the black flashes through white are spoke
as scars they hold within.

3/9/23


Sight: legs
Sound: click
Taste: milk
Touch: sharp
Smell: damp

 

[Piscator]

scent: cherries
sight: lipstick
sound: rustling
taste: honey
touch: hot


The the honeysuckle rustles dryly
the cherries are done this season
but your red-hot lipstick still
frames your perfect pouty lips
as your licenstious
tongue taunts me.