Submit Your Poems
Get Your Premium Membership


Best Senses Poems

Below are the all-time best Senses poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of senses poems written by PoetrySoup members

Search for Senses poems, articles about Senses poems, poetry blogs, or anything else Senses poem related using the PoetrySoup search engine at the top of the page.

Definition & Discussion of Senses Poems
Read Senses Poems

See also: Best Famous Poems

New Senses Poems

Don't stop! The most popular and best Senses poems are below this new poems list.

You fill up my senses - Music to my ears contest by ROBERTS, SEREN
Intoxicate my senses by One, Silent
Common Senses by Flannery, Vincent
Lost in My Senses by Inman, James
Sensual Senses in a Tanka by Harris, Rochelle
Serenading the Senses- Adult Content by Manassian, Eileen
You Fill My Senses by Smith, Arlene
What Do Your Senses Tell by Squires, John
The senses of Scripture by Mendoza, Jacqueline R.
Seven Senses by Meier-Hans, Brenda

View all new Senses Poems

The Best Senses Poems

Details | Senses Poem | |

We Push The Pen

We push the pen to make you feel
the gentle tapping of the falling rain,
the stinging burn of the summer sun
the heavy heart of despair and pain.

We push the pen to make you see
the vibrant orange of a monarch wing,
the secretive soul hidden in our eyes,
the golden sunrise in early morning.

We push the pen to make you taste
the sweetness of love's first kiss,
the bitterness of heartbreaking defeat
the richness of pure chocolate bliss.

We push the pen to make you hear
the clear waters babbling in the brook,
the forgotten laughter of our inner child
the cracking spine of a brand new book.

We push the pen to make you savor
the pungent petals of the red rose,
the crisp aroma of a tart green apple
the autumn air that excites the nose.

We each push the pen in different ways
with our own tone of voice and mystique,
an art form that no other can duplicate,
no right or wrong, just wonderfully unique.



Copyright © Kelly Deschler

More great poems below...


Details | Senses Poem | |

My First Ball

As I walk through the doors of the hall,
I am swept off my feet by such flare.
When I think that tonight’s my first ball,
How I blush thinking thoughts I don’t dare.

Lovely music pours out of the room,
And my hips sway beneath my pink gown.
Mom’s eyes seek a potential bridegroom
Dad’s eyes stop, my swaying with a frown.

Ushered in the big room my eyes dance
As they rush over grandeur so bright
Chandeliers they brought over from France 
Fill the room bringing splendour and light

On the sidelines I can’t help but stare 
Pretty walls lined with roses and vines
Sweetest scents of Guerlains fills the air
As the ladies and gents sip their wines.

Fine madam’s gowns blend in with the walls
And the heavenly ceiling divine 
Pastel angels and blue waterfalls 
Someone begs me to dance just in time.

As we twirl on the dance floor I’m charmed
Looking into his eyes, I turn red
And I’m weak in this young man’s strong arms
Looking up angels spin round my head.

All too soon my first ball has to end
Sweetest dreams I shall cherish tonight
When I think of my newly found friend 
Just the thought of him brings such delight


Anapest Trimeter

Written by Brenda Meier-Hans 
11.27.2014
Sponsor Isaiah Zerbst
Contest: Ballroom Delights 
1st place

Copyright © Brenda Meier-Hans


Details | Senses Poem | |

I Want to See that Look

I want to see that look
That shows the coming rapture
The face of wanton need
Passion's hungry capture
I want to see that look
Testament to lover's game
To know it’s all my doing
unleashing the untame
I want to see that look
Of sheer helpless submission
Knowing that your release
Is timed to my discretion
I want to see that look
Euphoria’s induction
That plea for more and more
A primal need production
I want to see that look
In hungry naked eyes
And hear those trembling lips
Supplicate, moan and sigh
I want to see that look
Before you’re blown away
Exquisite ecstasy triumph
The signature seductress way
I want to see that look
I WANT to see THAT look
Then I can taste my pleasure
For giving you satisfaction
Brings mine on beyond measure

Eileen

Copyright © Eileen Manassian


Details | Senses Poem | |

Any Old Poem Contest: echoes and whispers uncut

listen,
the whispers
of leaves
turn color
announce
autumn is here.

touch,
the echoes
of the rain
that waters
and blossoms spring.

taste,
uncut
the snow shapes
the crisp cold
ices the wintertide.

see,
the sand sculptures
that paint
that rekindle
a childhood summer past.

smell,
the seasonal airs
stimulates the senses
and the memories they carry.

in the glee,

in the hopes and dreams,

in the human spirit,

lives the miracle of life.

the magnificent
voices in every pitch
deep and resounding,
the melody

 of echoes and whispers – uncut.

Maurice Yvonne
Any Old Poem Will Do - Contest
For Skat A
Entered: August 29 2014

Copyright © Maurice Yvonne


Details | Senses Poem | |

I Look to You

As flower to the sun, I look to you
As thirsty grass that drinks in drops of dew
As river flowing down to waiting sea
I live again with you a love that's true

I’m lost to life when nestled in your arms
Your lips, your eyes, your body full of charms
I enter softly in your shrine of dreams
My vow to wait the scent of you disarms

Your breath upon my body, how it thrills
Your mouth my hunger with your tongue it fills
I gasp for breath for I am overwhelmed 
Your pilgrim hands have reached the sacred hills 

I faint with pleasure as you touch inside
My fantasies lie bare and opened wide
You speak to me in urgent whispers low
A plea to let you taste of passion’s tide

Intense becomes the rhythm of our love
Your eyes devour mine from up above
I hold to you as both our souls break free
A blazing flight of eagle and the dove

As flower to the sun, I look to you
As thirsty grass that drinks in drops of dew
As river flowing down to waiting sea
I live again with you a love that's true

Eileen Manassian

Copyright © Eileen Manassian

More great poems below...


Details | Senses Poem | |

Mirror Ball

I'm sure this hill is where it stood.
Amazing shapes of stuccoed wood.
A glass-brick, neon stream-lined place.
As if it flew from outer space,

A swing band auditorium,
An Art Deco emporium,
When romance, innocent in pace,
From dancing to a teasing chase.

The town grew west in modern haste
And down it came, without a trace.
The war and culture's change in taste,
Predestined doom, the past erased.

The future sighs, with solemn face
The wrecking ball, the glittered waste
No plaque to read "Historic Sight".
The swirling dust, a dance goodnight.


Gene Bourne
08-01-14
.

Copyright © Gene Bourne


Details | Senses Poem | |

Niagara Falls

                                          Echoing 
                                 loudly inside my head,
                   roaring thunder rushing through my veins.

                                       Powers are
                              chaining me mesmerized,
                         hypnotizing with a mighty force.

                                         Turbulent 
                                thoughts are racing blindly
                             spilling into open nothingness.

                                     Crashing down,
                                   only to rise again
                             as an eternal magical mist.


Written by Brenda Meier-Hans 
10.27.2014
Nette Onclaud’s Contest:
Some form of Crystalline 

Copyright © Brenda Meier-Hans


Details | Senses Poem | |

Serenading the Senses- Adult Content

On whispered breeze I hear your plea to feed
Upon my form you wish to feast and dine
I smile as I inhale desire’s need
And know tonight you’ll taste of lover’s wine

I stand before you now as I undress
My fingers tease the buttons on my blouse
Your eyes must touch before your hands caress
Your lips now part from sight that does arouse

I walk to you with swaying steps so bold
My hair unleashed, it tumbles round your face
Down on your knees, your tongue seeks navel gold
And fingers reach above the curves to trace

My hands go round your neck and pull you in
I taste the lobe of ear and gently blow
the words of want and need desire to win
and whisper pleasured treats you soon will know

I feel you tremble neath my roving hands
You breath comes quick and knowing I lean in
to tie your hands to chair with silken bands
I take command of mouth and trace your chin

I tip your head and then devour your neck
Leave marks of ownership just where I please
You rage against the chords as my lips trek
the journey down below to taste and tease

You call my name in throes of ecstasy
I feel your panting breath against my hair
This night is one of wanton revelry
To satiate your needs is my affair

Before the end of this our passion race
I ride the waves of your euphoric greed
You move to rhythm that I set to pace
Until sweet time when pent up love is freed

And now unleashed, you fall into my arms
Upon my silken breast you lay your head
I lull to sleep with all my sweetest charms
As moonbeams blanket us upon our bed

Jade ;) Celeste

Copyright © Eileen Manassian


Details | Senses Poem | |

Scattering Blooms


Gathering a plethora, of abandoned blossoms high and low, a covered basket and pockets full. Light footsteps through shady trees releasing dainty blooms for me, nature’s soulful aliment like a rainbow placed strategically for a little girl's innocent eyes. Blooms falling into my hands on a wooded path for one, then scattering to the wind, a fanciful dance, free of pending frailty; prancing petals take flight before their glory fades... How can I preserve God’s majestic beauty, petals adorning a late spring breeze? The newly green earth and trees - watch me, watch them. I am but one girl gathering blooms to press between pages of time or seep into an intoxicating potpourri. I could take a snapshot of these sacred scatterings but never could a photo fill my senses - the sweet scents, sounds and touch of blooms on a wooded path and breezes all around my face, the sight of God’s majestic beauty in a magical place. If I had one wish it would be, to share these magical moments with you.

Copyright © Rhonda Johnson-Saunders


Details | Senses Poem | |

NAUGHTY AND NICE

NAUGHTY & NICE I want to explore your womanhood. I want to take your mental essence to higher plateaus. I want to kiss you in the most sensual place. My desire for you is driving me crazy. No need to worry love the time has come. I am yours for now and beyond. Here I am standing before you. I am yours to adore. Give me some sex. Make me wet. I am yours to fulfill. Let’s enjoy ourselves. Let us make love in the moonlight. My body yearns for yours. Your body yearns for mine. We are both dramatized to captivate each other minds. Give me some sex. Come to me with your fine ass. Make love to me between these satin sheets. Please me. Shh, say no more. I am yours. |_____________________________________________| Penned On November 17, 2014!

Copyright © Verlena S. Walker


Details | Senses Poem | |

Seven Senses

 See 
 the beauty 
 of the earth,
 starting with birth.

 Hear
 the roar
 of thunders voice,
 a child rejoice.

 Touch
 creation,
 water and sand,
 a loved one’s hand.

 Smell
 the wind
 and salty seas,
 honey from bees.

 Taste
 fresh fruits
 and apple crisp,
 loves sweet kiss.

 Feel 
 your neighbours 
 from the start,
 with open heart.
 

 Sense 
 others feelings
 before you begin,
 so all can win.

 11.28.2014
 Contest: Didactic 
2nd

Copyright © Brenda Meier-Hans


Details | Senses Poem | |

IMAGINATION

IMAGINATION

Closed eyes; under a locked prism of unavailable light 
subjects our third eye to mind's internal creation; 
imagined images viewed by non-existent senses
on an opague three dimensional screen.

In an algorithm of shedded particle waves
Insight quickly fades back into a darkened vision 
of only half a picture without reflection. 

It leaves with us a broken trail of possibilities 
new thoughts, new choices, changes in destiny 
warily made under duress of immediacy 
trying to conceive a canvas framed 
by the hand of God.

It is in response to these panchromatic memories
held back by the sun's blackened light, 
that we clearly notice how the prism 
reflects an undercurrent. of shadeless secrets 
different than the realm of visionary colors.

Sensory detections relinquish an uncompleted picture. 
The image within, at times, may reveal an idea.
the transmission of which however placed
when received should strive to become an emotional 
mover of otherwise placid thinking where wizened leaders 
can in causes wept in sorrow from yesterday's sadness 
proclaim a hope for a brighter tomorrow.

INTERPRETATION:

When our eyes are shut tight, there is no light or vision.
We are limited to what we see with our inner mind. 
Nevertheless there is an internal sense,
a feeling of a creative process going on. 
It occurs as insight and often fades into a clouded vision 
of a thought picture barely perceived within.

When we leave the path of contemplative thinking,
we lose the benefit of what could have been. 
The choices we make are usually expedient 
and we struggle to determine 
what it is that we really want. 
Often we are faced and challenged by outside forces 
many of which we deflect as we espouse our point of view
without exploring all the possibilities. 

We see what could be and would like to be 
hoping that it will make a difference.
and help humanity move forward 
to a brighter tomorrow.

CAK  5-23-2103

Copyright © Allan Koven


Details | Senses Poem | |

Taunting the Dragon

My head against the doorframe, I love to watch him work
Almost jealous of his devotion, the motion of his hands
I am surprised at the green-eyed dragon, that lurks within my mind, 
as he rubs the pungent oil, into muscles of the pine.

With rolled up sleeves, a sweaty brow, and rough, sandpaper hands.
he hones a smile, along the aisle of every strand of wood
With even strokes, a time-worn cloak is peeled back and removed,
where the onion skin of years and wear
are entombed beneath the grain

He groans with satisfaction, (this  Frankenstein, of mine),
while something someone, once tossed away, 
is brought to life, back from the dead

Shimmering sheen of patina gleams, while the morning light slides in,
and preens through the window, simmering bright, and shines just like his eyes
I think I've seen a swirl of smoke in air, that circles in the air
as the warmth of the wood has sizzled hot, and the crest of the sun gets high

No awareness of the passion, engrained upon his face, 
He sees me not, .... my jealous want,.......I need his warm embrace

My need aroused by greed and want,  ignored by linseed's taunt
I watch his arms move back and forth, a dance of his gyration,
while my hips keep rhythm and swivel too, to his radio's oldie station

There are swarming nests of sawdust , cart-wheeling in the air,
a strand of hair, falls out of place.......and I cannot tear my eyes from here 
The sensuality, taunting simple grace.......my eyes have begged to stay 

I stare and marvel, for awhile
A shiver up my spine, implores.....to let the man I face,
                           to release my trancelike state of mind,
                                          and let my fingers trace



________________________________________

Copyright © Carrie Richards


Details | Senses Poem | |

Mermaid's Milk: a collaboration with the still dashing David Williams

The moss clung tightly; making it unbearable to breathe, 
and she sealed her lips tighter than a clam’s— not letting the pain take over

As the stars drift silently, like ships on a lost sea of darkness,
she whispers to Hope: 
“Swim free and look for the horizon, then come back to me...”

The night; collected on the leaves, 
       drops fell like Mermaid’s milk onto an already moist floor
Striking the shimmering tearful medium, 
         it gives birth to a shower of graceful pearls as the dawn awaits

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I hear your voice drift upon a cool ocean breeze; 
              gilded words of adoration 
I glide towards it, praying that it guides me, 
          strengthens me, 
                nurtures me 
  like Mermaid’s milk

Touch as I might, my senses are in-different to please, my voice mute!
Be my Siren’s song and sing for me, serenade my senses back to life...

With an inquisitive tongue, I taste an almost scentless flower 
It is but a wisp, a whisper, a flick of a ray of sunshine, but it was There.

So much is lost. 
    The rivulets of time, hear me, see me, like a ghostly apparition...
Capture me in that moment by lovingly painting me. 
Sing me a song while you do, 
            and let the Mermaid’s milk flow again.




*****
Thank you David, for waiting ever so patiently for my long overdue part-- 
it was a very nice challenge for me to write this :) 
Thank you very much for the inspiring lines...

Copyright © binibining P.iNk


Details | Senses Poem | |

Tapestry Tales


Her senses melded with the tapestry,
coming alive, 
as if the images woven 
stripped her spirit bare.
Each image bearing the tale
of the ancients;
Forbearers of a forgotten world
stitched in new world colors.

Interwoven remembered glory
mingling with horrors, gory.
Interlaced, now, in a threaded story
merging the old, 
with those of the new,
as if each needle threaded 
pricked her living soul.

© Debra Squyres
    02-01-15

Copyright © Debra Squyres


Details | Senses Poem | |

Coconut Scented Dreams

Luxuriant black hair 
Trails your naked body
Soothing all those places
Seared by my burning lips

Waves of silky curls 
Cascade over you
Following the rise and fall
Flirting with your fingers
Inviting gentle tugs

Midnight strands curtain your face
As your body emulates
The motion of lips and tongue
A black waterfall of ecstasy

Coconut scented dreams
Of long wavy black hair
Keep a smile there on your face
Until I’m again in your arms

Eileen Manassian Ghali

Copyright © Eileen Manassian


Details | Senses Poem | |

A Decadently Decadent Love

The definition for the word decadent in this poem is the following:  extremely 
pleasing 

The synonyms you can have in mind are the following: unrestrained and 
shameless

I want to indulge in this love
To arrive at its very core  
I want that delectable taste
The pleasure that it has in store

I want to revel in opulence
Luxuriate in comfort fine
To savor its decadent treats
Indulging in what is sublime

I want to relish its sweetness
To take in and not abstain
I want to be ravished by love
To give in to pleasure and pain

I want to be wild, uncontrolled
Glutted in a wanton excess
To be obsessively taken
Have my inner woman undress

Like richest silky smooth chocolate
I'll tempt, tantalize, and I'll tease
Making love to be what I want
To melt in my need to appease

Decadently decadent love
Is all that my heart and soul crave
To be lost in time and in place
To drown in a love that can save

Eileen Manassian Ghali

This is a repost. There was a time when I was deleting my poems. This was ohe of them. I have brought it back to light. Thanks for reading.

Copyright © Eileen Manassian


Details | Senses Poem | |

WEEPING WILLOW

When I'm with you I love to linger
I'm taken when you dance around me
Your movements are majestic
Sweet Weeping Willow...
You're my tree 

I gaze upon your beauty
Somehow you touch me deep inside
Your trunk is a perfect pillow
Underneath your grace 
I find a place to hide

I've whispered to you all my secrets
You've seen to the depths of my soul
Your arms like wings they surround me
When life's storms come
And thunder rolls 

Every morning I take my coffee
By our rippling lake you already stand
Just the two of us together
Sweet Weeping Willow...
I'm your man

8-26-15

Copyright © Lyric Man


Details | Senses Poem | |

Feeling My World

The soft gentle breeze caresses my skin, tiny ripples washing over me, as cool invisible fingers tickle each tiny hair.  I shiver.  The path beneath my feet is hard, the narrow veins between the stone uneven but smooth.  Leaning down, my fingers explore each stone admiring the artisan's hand. Even cuts and natural imperfections line the face of the pavers from which imaginary flowers and birds and faces, that only I can see, spring to life. Each piece carefully selected for size and shape, puzzled together with perfect precision.  The coolness of the stone feels blue like frozen water, or perhaps green like smooth moss. The air colder now I move on, hollow vibrations tingling my hand with each tap of my cane.


James Inman
09/01/15
Inspired by Nette's Sense of Touch contest, 

OH NO!  I was too late to enter! :,-(

Copyright © James Inman


Details | Senses Poem | |

Drip, Drop

Drip

Drop

Water drop cascades under sapphire afterglow
Undoing 4 month deprivations

Muffled moans surround crimson fireplace

Crackling of fire
Thrusts of skin
Retinal vibrations shutter her pilot light deep within

She ascended to blue moon heights
As embers of his inferno
Bow in collective unison

Maddening grips

His fingertips draw triangular markings
Hugging curvature’s hip

Gentle bites on lower lip
He tackles her wanton hands against waterbed foundations

Her strengthened pupils reach out for 3rd eye clarity.

She asks for his dance under aggressive whisper
As he dips
Inside

Slow motion Salsa bends of her will
She crosses legs marking “X” against his spot

His relinquished hands
Slalom her vocal chords toward accentuated heavens

He exorcised her trembling inner thighs
From collapsing octaves

With eloquent, muted exhales
His hand reaches her cheek
His mouth descending towards her breast

“My lady, put that lighter down,
Let me be your cigarette.”

Drip

Drop

©11/19/2013
A Scorcher for Charlotte's contest. (Update: Tied for 2nd place. Nice!)

Copyright © Drake Eszes


Details | Senses Poem | |

Interalphabetnet sex stew



Primose path leads to the slaughter of American
dream delete pause proficiency with internetty
webbegone after thoughts of yahoo googleyed 
interred intracacises that shed benign capsules of
 mom entary apple pie delquiences cooling 
the soul shopping for the next alias avenue of
pointless me procurement mauling an ongoing
onerous dildodate vis a vie meme.com/me in 
an engaging omnipresence of sextext no tact
spell ckeck chicshicshakplak no sense tic tac.
Talk? Walk? Balk? Chalk? Sue? Sulk? 
Dinosaur diligence posse with the senior
gestages gestulating, we r forevre 21 and ying yang 
dung. Yes, good f ing luck with that!! Look at your 
petridish parents and see what box u check to lid close
and abscond with the lost liberal leftovers. That
is you in reverse in a few carnal years after Hilter youth
children decide to screw us as the new 
generation which skewer post present parental postulates 
to the oldster outhouse outlets so u can be "youf" free. Little
do they notknow as they cumulatively co opulate 
that they set the stooge stage for no thanx ahole actions. 
The DOS does'nt fall from the Apple tree. Leave it, 
love it, learn it while ye may, the kid crisp cosmos of
offspring social dicktates are biting at your heartbeatbit 
empty elmo enterprises. Pause parenatal prenatal
preferences prepearing perinatal persons pretasking
postnatal practices, in which you have veno papa preparation.
Think before you For Unlawful Carnal Knowledge and Analyze
your ass-incarnate initiate. Borrow berofe u basterdize, 
condomize before u copu culminate, decide before
u dicktate, envision before u envy, fail before u foil, 
grasp before u germinate, halt before u hinder, 
illuminate before u illerate, jump before u jinx, 
kill before u keep, love before u lay, meaning before
moaning, neutralize before u now, obilerate before
u ooops! presence before predicament, quit before
quake, resilience before ridiculous, sanity before
sexusensuality, thinkth before u thumpth, utilize
before u unionize, victory before victimization, we 
before want, xx nor xy, zen before zeal. Pocket 
passion files fly in the face of ruined reason residules
to the point of pronounced perplextion plagued 
prominantly with no recall references to problematic 
protocals for near north normalicies in my buckeye
life measures of simpatico silly symbiosis sublime
of mini me monophile mucous made misdemeanor
milktoast memories. Pass go, collect $200.


Copyright © Dave Collins


Details | Senses Poem | |

It Can't Be Real

A truth in rage of insult furrows my mind
For it is only an offense given to me by myself
In the mouths of others far innocent than I
I feel the tears trickle down my cheeks
For I have surfaced into an ugly mistake
I am always inadequate in this brain
I try to shine like the advice of grace given
But confidence rarely rears its head my way
There’s a sort of shade blocking its way
A shade that darkens everyday

That very shade led me to believe my feelings are wrong
That I will never belong so long as they are not controlled
I must be careful—for the lines of love and lust run cold
I hate myself truly this night
And no one but myself will give me the right
The very right to degrade my every being
Because you are not seeing what I am seeing

There is no point
My lines run cold
Can I be so bold as to say
I still love with a pang of indistinguishable doubt 
All feelings enter in
As my truth blurs and checks out

Your words pierce me so deep
I cannot describe the pain I feel
God it hurts so bad
It can’t be real

Much like the love I have come to embrace
The very love that links to your face
Tears don’t give it justice

It can’t be real
Much like the love I will never face

Copyright © Laura Breidenthal


Details | Senses Poem | |

Touch Me

Touch me with your eyes
Let them roam all over me
Staring at what they desire
Embers of your soul’s fire
Touch me with your eyes

Touch me with your smile
Lighting me with need
Validating my form
With a curl of praise
Promise of what is to come
Touch me with your smile

Touch me with your tongue
Your ambassador of love
Sent to foreign lands: my body
Let it tease me
Please me
Fill me 
Thrill me
Representing you
And what you will do
Touch me with your tongue

Touch me with your words
Let them make love to my mind
An intercourse of flames
Working their way into the folds
Of where my desires lie
Dormant...still
Waiting to be found
Touch me with your words

Touch me with your thoughts
Turn them into hands
That caress 
Ravishingly posses
Enslave to liberate
Able to satiate
Pain to sedate 
Determined to consummate
My rebel needs
Touch me with your thoughts

Touch me with your heart
Spread it all over mine
Let them beat in time
Sweetest rhythm
Pulsating rhyme
Sublime
The thunder of love
The symphony of life
A exultant melody
Of ecstasy
Touch me with your heart

Touch me with your body
The beauty of your frame
A man's mission to claim
To drive in the stake
Marking ownership of me
Touch me with your body

Oh...resurrect me with your touch!
Touch me
TOUCH me
Touch ME
TOUCH ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Touch me deep inside
Where my fantasy lies
Sleeping
A Sleeping Beauty
Waiting for your kiss of bliss
Touch me with your lips
Make me come
ALIVE!

Roya

Copyright © Eileen Manassian


Details | Senses Poem | |

Honeysuckle Promise- Haiku Triology

gentle evening breeze
honeysuckle perfumed air
promise of summer

inhale of sweetness
floral scent of paradise
memories linger

stars sparkle down smiles
fullness of what is to come
moment eternal

Eileen Manassian Ghali

It was a warm evening. I had just come back from the office. I got out of the car and the scent of honeysuckle enveloped me in magic. It was one of those moments, that you can't describe....so rich...so...full of promise and life....a moment where you are lead to believe that the world is beautiful, the universe close, and eternity in your grasp. This scent brings with it memories. I was filled with bliss. I don't usually do haiku...but...here it is. I hope you enjoy it! Hugs

Copyright © Eileen Manassian


Details | Senses Poem | |

CAUTION SOMEWHAT SEXUAL

It's one a.m., he decides it's time go to the club.
He is wearing a pair of tight jeans and a white T-shirt 
tattooed to his torso. A lit cigarette in his mouth seems glued 
to the top of his lip. He walks to his own paint brush.

He takes in a deep breath. He can taste all the desire
in the filthy night air. Hear the screams of months past. 
He can even hear the friction of dancing flesh.

He has reached the Black Hole that is his Universe. 
Lynette shoves him against a brick wall. Hard! 
She puts her tongue down his throat and licks his lungs.
He smells her scent. They don't advertise the entrance. 
It's very dark just outside the club. Yet he still knows now.

It's not Lynette. He is sure he has never met this woman. 

He knows it's wrong but he doesn't stop.
He is not going to do anything to stop this. 
She owns him as she pulls him into the alley.

He lets her take him. He spends the next while
swimming in a pool of pornographic imagery.

She takes control and takes him on the adult ride at the fairway.
Lucky! He is just tall enough to get on.

He leaves to float above and watch himself with her. 
Raw flesh! He stares, they are both there but he only sees her.
Everything she is races through his mind.

He looks at himself. His face is blank. 
She treats him to uncharted territory 
as she massages something deep inside of him.

He floats back to be whole, to hold her, and ride her. 
Driving hard, fast and mean working the ride to its climax.

The brakes screech and they go catatonic in perfect sync. 
Neither one of them makes a sound. They stand there motionless,
grasping for air. Holding the moment. 
For a second, for a minute, for a lifetime.

They kiss.
For a second...

She holds him gently.
They look at one another.
for...,a minute...

Their eyes are adjusted to the dark now. 
She maps every inch of his face with one finger.
Tongues touch, lips lock and they just hold
...for a lifetime.

And even before she leaves. He knows she's gone.
He can't remember another time when doing wrong felt so right.

Calmly he lights a cigarette, and he walks down the stairs.
He looks around as his body vibrates to the movement of the music.

There she is waiting for him on the floor. 
His hips are loose and his legs start to lead 
as he takes her in his arms and dances

It's Lynette and him

...for a second, for a minute, for a lifetime.


Maurice Yvonne
September 1 2014

Copyright © Maurice Yvonne