Best Sense Of Taste Poems
I strain against the rising tide
But I find no solace there.
My only hope for some success
Is to turn to fervent prayer.
Now you may think it childish
But I care not what others say.
So leave me to my supplication
And hope relief will come my way.
How did I come to this dilemma
That has brought me close to tears?
The fault is mine and mine alone...
I have lived too many years.
Old age is wrapped around me
And Death taunts me with its laugh.
I turn to prayer to exhort dear Heaven
To intercede on my behalf.
My battered body lies is in tatters...
I've added ten inches to my waist.
I've enough ear hair to traumatize a sailor...
I've lost my sense of taste.
Old age should not to be entered into lightly
With its oddities and quirks.
But I've finally reached that stage of life
Where nothing really works.
There were things I took for granted
In the ignorance of my youth.
Those days are just a memory now
As I confront this awful truth.
I am possessed with fear and panic
And in pain I'm forced to stoop.
So sweet Jesus... Lord in Heaven...
Why can't I take a poop?
The End
*Follow my cartoon at Webtoon Bob's Your Uncle
Being sensual isn’t necessarily about sex.
I recall a night of such immense innocent delight
that all my senses -heightened- far exceeded
my teenage expectations of romance.
My sense of sight had already been triggered
from the moment I first met the young man
whose eyes so flirtatiously met mine.
As sweet as chocolate, his eyes melted me.
His smile was honey and his voice too,
which dripped with an accent which was French -
instantly attracted my sense of hearing.
In the front seat of his Buick Riviera,
this boy from Quebec taught me the allure
of taking time . . .
taking time to gaze into each other eyes,
taking time to feel . . . to really feel
each little nibble on my ear lobe
and the sweetness of his breath
at the nape of my neck; to feel his fingers
as they softly traced the features of my face -
worshippingly -
as if I were a goddess he was touching.
Even my sense of smell was aroused by his colgne.
Taking his time . . .
such lingering precious time,
he arrived to that first anticipated kiss,
and my sense of taste was then aroused,
for his kiss was ambrosia of the gods.
To touch his silken skin and hair,
and then to feel his lips moving smoothly over mine!
In synche with him -
romance was nothing but sublime.
All the while his hands – so magical -
caressed my hands, my arms, my shoulders,
and my back down to my waist.
Feelings I’d never experienced before
overwhelmed me with bliss.
I was still a virgin, and he knew exactly how far
not to go.
Keeping me at the brink
of something I was not to know till I was married,
I was more than satisifed and never before in my life
had I felt more cherished.
Every sense of mine was totally engaged
by his dulcet whispers
and the beauty of his eyes, his nose, his mouth,
and his entire tall slender body.
The touch of him, the feel of him,
and the feel of MY burgeoning emotions -
for me this was a virgin’s dream
of sensuality.
Feb. 3, 2021
for the Sensual Poetry Contest of Charlotte Puddifoot
Perfection's never something,
You can capture oh so well.
But her beauty burned like gazing,
At the fires that burn in Hell.
And people they would beg of her,
"Let me capture you in photograph."
But with beauty that was so obscure,
She'd always turn and laugh.
She woke up every morning,
But this was a different one.
Called an artist that was yearning,
"We can do this just for fun."
She stained her lips with rose.
Painted her cheeks in the fairest rouge.
Slipped ballet flats upon her toes.
And in her sundress she found refuge.
The amateur had no say,
She had planned the perfect spot.
She whispered, "I'll lead the way."
A small price to pay to get the perfect shot.
Her movements were so delicate,
It's as if they were devised.
She used a subtle hand wave to indicate,
That they had finally arrived.
You would think you'd see a castle,
Or maybe a field of green.
But this enviroment was quite the hassle,
Maybe her sense of taste wasn't keen.
She thrusted weeds away,
Steering clear of twigs and rocks.
The warm wind made her sundress sway,
And softly tousled her gold locks.
Upon a bridge she advanced,
The planks began to creak.
The water below her danced,
And sunset began to peak.
She lifted her legs with elegance,
And supported herself with a beam.
The photographer shuttered in benevolence,
But followed along with this dangerous scheme.
It's as if the camera was under a spell;
As beneath the bridge, waves violentally lashed.
She threw her arms out and willingly fell,
As the light grew bright and flashed.
The tides pulled tight around her.
They made her twirl and spin.
And the camera man swore,
she smiled as they tugged her in.
Perfection's not that fluent.
Not something you can capture oh so well.
But now we have a picture here to prove it,
As the waves dragged her to Hell.
.
Awakened Senses
Aboard my boat on winding river here,
with anchor dropped, all seems so calm, serene.
I breathe in deep the fragrant river air;
the smell of water, breeze, the scent of clean.
These river smells stir up a sister sense...
the scrumptious, luscious flavors of the sea;
The ocean cod, the shrimp and flounder too...
The river wakes my senses wondrously.
Sandra M. Haight
~3rd Place~
Contest: Poems That Did Not Place and More
Sense of Taste ~ New Poem
Concept: River
Sponsor: Nette Onclaud
Judged: 09/14/2015
.
Imagine all those things we love so well -
the scent of sweet perfume or baking bread -
have disappeared; we’ve lost our sense of smell,
and with that loss, fond memories have fled!
We must learn to adapt but are still graced
with an ability we can’t believe
is soon to perish too - our sense of taste!
All food now loses flavor, and we grieve.
But the worst is yet to come, and what we fear
arrives one day, and all the world must mourn,
for not one soul is able now to hear!
We stay with loved ones not to be forlorn
and cling to them when comes the loss of sight. . .
our final plight - to fade into the night.
*The other day I watched a movie on cable called Perfect Sense. It inspired
me to write this poem. Just think of it - to lose our senses one by one until
the only thing left is to cling to a loved one. That was a very intense movie!
I accidently ate some chilli seeds
That fell into my tea,
I went screaming and shooting through the roof
And landed in the sea.
My dearest mum yelled “You’ll burn your mouth!”
While hopping about like a flea,
But I left not a single seed to waste
And Lost my sense of taste.
It’s well over a decade now,
But my mind always reads:
I accidently ate some chilli seeds
That fell into my tea
10/01/17
Flan
The perfect dessert for me.
For it has the perfect texture , so consistent throughout.
It's gelatinous yet doughy body that is so sweet to the soul , tongue and mouth.
So beautiful and understating just like the perfect spouse.
But Pardon my manners If sometimes I wish to touch you with my hands and skip even using the spoon or fork.
Skip from I got to wait till you're done, to I can't wait to have some more.
Flan
Have had memories of you and I since back when grandmamma wasn’t so old,
and all I had to do was worry about what my abuelitos and parents told me.
When I finally saw you , suga it was like a dream come true.
Even if I was heavier than I should’ve been at 8 ,I would always take care of you.
And please listen to what I say because it’s only natural that as a former fat boy my words would also carry much weight.
Flan
There are so many types of you.
I've had the worst and the one's in between worse and in between.
But I've matured enough to expand my sense of taste and have acquired more than one sweet tooth.
But to only find out they don't even compare to you.
Flan
With your culinary curves it's almost as If I dishonored you with my failed homemade homages.
But can you blame my senses if I feel cozy around you?
Even though my comfort is only due to your confection,
you will always have my attention due to the enjoyment I feel in your presence,
For that I'' always say please and thank you.
Flan
With that cherry on top I just can't wait.
And I’ll see you, I’ll be picking you up at my abuelitas at eight.
I'll my bring my taste buds and you bring yourself.
But don't you worry about left over crumbs,
because I always clean my plate.
The sense of sight…
To picture our world each day.
The sense of touch…
To kiss the pain and tears away.
The sense of smell…
As lungs fill with the air we breathe.
The sense of taste…
As flavors on the tongue they weave.
The sense of hearing…
For the music of children at play.
But the most valuable sense of all,
A sense of humor…
So no matter what, you can laugh each day.
Coffee's hot steam
and then I imagined it
that split second
before it touched my lips.
It did not disappoint,
and its flavor, intimate
as it met my tongue,
swirled imaginatively.
---------------------------------
Coffee
9/6/2015
Contest - Poems that did not
place and more!
Sponsor - nette onclaud
A win
Once upon a time, I saw a Candy List of more than forty types of candy. And would you believe that people were actually invited to enter a contest to pick at least 10 of their favorites from among such a list? Unbelievable! For crying out loud, what is this world coming to? It's just not fair for the 'sense of taste' to be tested like that. Why, if I were King, I would issue a decree to band such an endeavor.
I grew up eating a lot of BUTTERFINGER bars, and I would eat a MILKY WAY if it was my only choice, but I never really liked them. I have always loved coconut and just about every kind of nut there is. Saturate a column of coconut with almonds, cover them with chocolate, and the next thing you're chewing on is Peter Paul MOUNDS; or am I mistaking Peter and Paul for Amond Joys? A BABY RUTH candy bar was certainly at the top of my sweet list; and what's not to like about a peanut covered bar of candy called PAYDAY?
I cannot deny it and I dare not hide it. Not so much now, but way back then when sugar was looked upon less frowningly, I was a sucker for the TOOTSIE ROLL. I remember that the LEMONHEAD candies were a tad bitter, but the HOT TAMALES was a 'play around' kind of candy; and what could be better than playing and competing with a mouth 'on fire' with candy? LIFESAVERS and NOW AND LATER were among my kids' favorites, and the KIT KAT still ranks high on my candy list, but at the top of my 'sugar heap' are the SNICKERS.
Now back to the Candy List I mentioned at the beginning. Upon further investigation, I discovered that three of my favorites were not even on the list. Like boots were made for walking, the Lollipop and the Holloway candy sticks were made for licking and sucking. And it pains me to think about the fact that M&M Peanuts candy wasn't anywhere to be found. I'm not a king but if........
09212018PoSoupContest, How Sweet It Is, Carol Connell,3P
Hot peppers and spicy horseradish
a gut-punch to the solar plexus
Snake venom with moldy cheese
not tonight, if you please...
Tadpole skins and locust larvae
strains my stomach of iron
But a bloody Mary eggnog combo
gags the esophagus of this Hawaiian
Wonder how I developed my bizarre sense of taste?
~ A flush of the toilet for whoever said, 'Haste makes waste'
Away with your joy, I don't want such a commodity.
For all I have lived, I've only known the dark,
The gloomy, bitter and the bad.
They all say they want to be happy,
They explain ecstasy, like explaining the taste of ambrosia
To a person who has never had the sense of taste
Just as the blind man can't think of colors nor miss the rainbow,
I am alien to your warmth, brightness
And sweetness and good
Don't bring me into your "paradise",
For it will be my hell.
A prison of spring, scents,
Flowers, sunrises and sunsets
Is repulsing enough.
For in my "hell" of darkness
Of emptiness and unexplained feelings
I am free, I dream of blank and it suffices me
C-ake complete with candles
A-ims to thrill your heart;
T-he twenty-third of October
H-as made a brand new start.
C-ake complete with candles
A-llows you not to waste;
S-weet moment makes you smile,
A-s you use the sense of taste.
W-hite icing causes much mirth,
A-nd everyone gladly giggles;
Y-our birthday has come, carrying cake complete with candles.
When everything about me still thrives,
And everything is a sight for sore eyes,
I'm thankful for my sense of SIGHT.
When noise abounds with the hearing of sounds,
because my eardrums are enough to Astone,
I'm grateful for my sense of HEARING.
When never taking for granted a savory taste,
And as Jesus said, let nothing go to waste,
I'm thankful for my sense of TASTE.
When my bride is baking with sweet working labor,
And overwhelming me with smells of succulent flavors,
I'm grateful for my sense of SMELL.
I bow my knees and heart when I feel that loving touch,
And when I realize that I have been blessed with so much,
I'm thankful for my sense of TOUCH.
082023PS
I cherish every raindrops which dance upon my face
Occasional piano accompaniment drift along my pace
On the trails which tickles my fifth sense of taste
Millions molecular beam saved every curt memo as a lace
Which knitted through every single wink of my grace
Again, I cherish every raindrops which dance upon my face
Love the moment, love the drizzle
Love the ambiance which showered in a dazzle