Long Five senses Poems
Long Five senses Poems. Below are the most popular long Five senses by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Five senses poems by poem length and keyword.
A poetry
is a collection
of words that expresses
author's emotion or idea
sometimes with as specific rhythm or rhyme
Poet uses a figure of speech
that makes a comparison
between two things
that are basically different
but something in common
The metaphor does not use
the words 'like' or 'as'
But some poetry has words 'like' or 'as'
that is called a simile
The two poetic techniques are almost always there, but not seen
Poetry is a feeling that author wants the reader
to understand
Sometimes a heart breaking arrow shattering
or even joyful sunny day like when you were born
Poetry is a gift that everyone can write
People use poetry in novels and narratives
Some lines have animals, objects or human qualities
The words fill the page with imagery
to give feelings
Describing the plain into special words
It uses the five senses
So that the readers can touch and taste
Readers can smell
Readers can see
Readers can hear
Poems are like crumbs of a cookie
All you just have to do
Is to select the right words
And make the reader sense
Feel the feelings that you've put into
It's like stars
They sing with heart
They try to send you a message
About their experiences
How they've felt in the sticky situations
Some poets uses words
that aren't in the dictionary
Those words might be sound words
Explosion sounds maybe spelled, "BOOM!" or "MEOW"
Those words are called onomatopoeia
Some poems are so still without them
It makes the poet feel not right
They feel like something is missing
That's what poets think about
Reading it over and find out what's missing to deliver
When poets give an animal, object, idea, or human qualities
That's called a personification
When words dances into your mind
Imagining the worded movements
Sometimes it's just so easy that you miss them
Some poems have alliteration
The fist consonant sound is repeated
In several words
In the same line of a poem like
Something slid solemnly stood
Poetry is a great kind of writing
If you're the kind of person
Who doesn't like that much writing
You might fall for this writing
Because this kind of writing you need time
Poetry is a great kind of writing
If you're the kind of person
Who loves to express your feelings
You might like this kind of writing
Because this kind of writing you need heart
Niitthaar Perumai: The Fundamental Role of the Ascetic, Kurals 24, 25 & 26, Translations with commentary
K24: niraimoli maanthar perumai nilatthu
maraimoli kaadti vidum.
The might of men whose word is never vain,
The 'secret word' shall to the world proclaim. (Tr. G.U.Pope)*
* In the Pope edition of the Kural, this's number 28.
He who guides his five senses by the book of wisdom,
will be a seed in the world of excellence. (Tr. W.H.Drew & J.Lazarus)
In this world, the ascetic's greatness will reveal itself
through (magically) unfathomable means. (Tr. T.Wignesan)
K25: suvaioli pooroosai naarramen rainthin
vagaitherivaan kaddee ulagu.
Taste, light, touch, sound, and smell: who knows the way
Of all the five, -- the world submissive owns his sway. (Tr. G.U.Pope)*
*In the Pope edition, this kural is numbered: 27.
The world is within the knowledge of him who knows the properties of taste,
sight, touch, hearing, and smell. (Tr. W.H.Drew & J.Lazarus)
Only ascetics who control the five senses: gustatory, visual, tactile, auditory,
and olfactory - can influence (and possess) the world. (Tr. T. Wignesan)
K26: seyatkariya seivaar periyaar ciriyar
seyatkariya seikalaa thaar.
Things hard in the doing will great men do;
Things hard in the doing the mean eschew. (Tr. G.U.Pope)
The great will do those things which it is difficult to do; the mean
cannot do those things which it is difficult to do. (Tr. W.H.Drew & J.Lazarus)
Men who have renounced this world can do what is out of reach of those who
remain attached to this world. (Tr. T. Wignesan)
(Here, it would be tautological if "niitthaar' were to be translated as"great or noble" men in the sense of the "jun tzu" of the Yi Jing. The emphasis is clearly on the element of sacrifice: the wilful suppression of the rewards of the five senses and their concomitant detachment of benefits available for selfish indulgence, so much so that a more literal translation would sound rather platitudinous, such as:
Big things can be done by big people. Small men who attempt to carry out great undertakings will fail.
In other words, the purpose of this couplet is somewhat dubious (it doesn't add to our knowledge); it rather looks like a "filling in" of the decade. T.Wignesan)
© T. Wignesan - Paris, 2017
Vicks Mentholatum. Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
I sometimes open the jar and stick my nose in for a little smell
Which turns into a big smell, a little on my nose, some around my
Neck, and finally I beg my husband to slather it on my back while
I saturate my chest with it.
This smell loves me, calms me, and nurtures me like no other.
I probably spent the first ten years of my life slathered like this,
It brings back memories of mother, warm cocoa, soft scarves, and books.
Nothing opens my soul up faster than Native American flute music. It brings
out my wolf wild side. I want to run to a cliff and howl at the moon. It takes
me instantly to Sedona vacations, turquoise jewelry, kachina dolls, bringing the
American Southwest into my heart, and healing the sad places.
Almost everything I see delights me – shiny things, natural things, new things. But the thing that makes my heart sing the fastest is the sight of my grandchildren. Any one of them. I have ten, and it does not matter which one is coming toward me. There is a surge of happiness that leaps through me in a boundless joyful way that cannot be described. It is a craziness that must be lived and felt.
Beans will be the death of me. My favorite tastes all include beans. It is a toss-up which one
I like the most – jalapeno peppers stirred in refried beans, barbequed beans, kidney beans, pork and beans, and ham and beans. I salivate when I think of any of these. It is a spontaneous reaction that I have never been able to quell. When I was a child we ate lots of beans, so maybe that is where this is coming from. I have no idea. But I know these are my favorite meals. I am a cheap date.
What do I not like to touch? The list is tiny. I am a tactile learner. To teach me, you have to let me grab it, shake it, spin it, toss it, catch it, and rub it. I touch wallpaper, woodwork, and metal file cabinets in offices. I touch ants, rocks, flowers, grasses. I hug trees. I hug people. I am a professional toucher.
Possibly my favorite touch is warm, sudsy bath water after a trying day. I immerse myself, washing off sadness and disappointment, thinking of the Vicks Mentholatum which I will slather on when I get out.
Written: July 27, 2018
Entered: My 5 Senses Contest Sponsor: Viv Wigley
Most of us were born with eyes;
But yet, too many of us are blind.
It's not that we are blind physically,
but unfortunately, we cannot see clearly.
There are five senses gifted to us humans
by God. The senses are seeing, hearing, tasting,
touching, and smelling. Although granted to them
at a different level, God gave the same senses to the
animal kingdom. If given the choice of being something
other than a human being in this current climate, I would
choose to be neither an animal nor plant, but one of the five senses.
If the timeline were now, I would pass on sight, taste, and smell. If the
timeline were now, I would be torn between touching and hearing, but my
final answer would be hearing. It would be hearing because in my humble opinion, what the world needs now is "A Hearing Ear" that would listen first to God and secondly to one another. In my weeping heart, presently, I feel that both God and man are crying to be heard. Yes, I tell you with tears forming in my eyes just now at 10 pm on Saturday night 061320 as I write this. "May I be an ear to swiftly listen and not one of poor taste with a mouth that quickly
speaks; not an eye with judgmental tendencies looking for the worst; not a smeller void of abilities to discern the aromatic fragrances of all of God's creatures; not a toucher with unclean hands having never acknowledged the touch of God's loving hands upon his/her life.
No, the sum total of me is not an ear, but I have an ear and have chosen to listen. And if I were but an ear, I would listen, listen, and listen again, and pray for many more listening ears.
061320PSCtest, Non-Human, Chantelle Anne Cooke. NA. Judged 61620
061620Ctest entry, NA, Rerun 8, John Hamilton. 5P
I love to watch the sun rise,
the way its tangerine colored
rays pierce the
metallic grey sky and
how they dance playfully on
the waters edge. As its face peers
Out from its hiding spot
It reminds me of everything
Beautiful I’ve ever known, like
My mother’s smile, infants
Being born, like fresh ink
On a piece of paper.
Words have not been invented yet
To describe the sight of
Sunrise.
One has not truly lived
Until having heard the
sound of violins
Something so sweet and
Seductive has no
Business being compared
To anything less beautiful
If all the emotions in the
World were an instrument
It would be a violin
Nothing graces my eardrums
And the atmosphere
Like the peaceful, poetic whisper
Of a violin
I love the smell of love in
The morning. I didn’t know love
Had a smell but then again
Who really knows what love is
What it looks like
Sounds like
Smells like
Tastes like or feels like.
Love smells like when
We make love, it’s like a Picasso
Being made, I can smell the
Fresh paint on the canvas
It’s literally poetry in motion
Her breath is endless as her spoken word
Coerces me to do things I know
I want to.
Her scent is so intoxicating
And from that day forth my nostrils
Could no longer recognize anything
Else.
If nothing else is heaven-sent it
will always be the taste of chocolate
It’s decadence needs no
Compliment. The taste reminds
Me of every women Ive ever loved
Good and bad for me at
The same time. The moment
My tongue became acquainted
With this piece of heaven
It’s like it became me
It didn’t melt in my mouth it transformed
Into the shape of it and has never
Left since
The best feeling in the world
Is the feeling of bare skin
Against the bed sheets the morning
After we made love.
And we made love like the world
was ending so we hold
one another
Like we died in each other’s
Arms the night before
And nothing else mattered
but this feeling
In this moment in time
And I never wanted to leave
So I stayed there kissing your
Forehead, you taking my
Hand in yours as if it were
The last thing you’d ever touch
Even when our bones become
Playthings of the wind
I hope that a museum will
Keep a fossil of our figure
So that others may enjoy this
Moment in time forever.
It might sound archaic,
or may seem elementary,
but for some, life is not always a
rosy place nor a many splendor thing.
The pursuit of morality is ever noble;
but ignorance is always deplorable.
And religious ignorance is enslaving.
The heart and body test: Did it feel good?
The tongue test: Did it taste good?
The nose test: Did it smell good?
The ear test: Did it sound good?
The eye test: Did it look good?
In other words, for a young teen named Gaby,
if it somehow appealed to, brought joy or
pleasure to any of his five senses, there
was no question about it. It was indeed sin.
For the greater part; for the longest
season of Gaby's teenage years, he lived
according to what he later called, 'The
five senses test' of his Christian life.
In a sense, 'play' for Gaby in the simplest
of childhood fun was a forbidden luxury. i.e.,
to name a few. Sports? No. Theater/television? No.
Table games? No. Pure and innocent childhood fun
was sheer anathema, and 'The play of life' was torn
from Gaby's teenage heart.
Chances are that this narrative does not ring familiar
with most, but the truth is that religious fanaticism in
America was real when Gaby was growing up.
071522PS. *The American College Dictionary. #40: to exercise or employ oneself in diversion, amusement, or recreation.
>>1111>>REVELATION>1111>>Quincy Mac<<1111<<
date written: 11.22.2015
There are times that we see everything but see nothing. There are times we hear everything but hear nothing. There are times we are touched but feel nothing. There are times we lose all sense of smell and taste. Nothing seems to satisfy and nothing attaches to our five senses.
It doesn't mean that we are bad people; it means that "life happens". And again, there are those times that 'magic happens' and lasts forever. In my case, life indeed does happen, but I remember two forever magical moments. I was a little lad and did not possess a camera but captured two moments that were magical.
8888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888
Doing the laundry, cleaning the house, and cooking, or simply taking her infrequent leisure. Beautifying someone’s hair, or just chatting with a friend, there was often a small green glass bottle of soda near by. This lady never poured from the bottle to a drinking glass. Such a classy ritual was never required nor desired by her. The most favored and refreshing moment for her was a bag of salted peanuts slowly poured into her favorite strong drink. While MOTHER was capturing a cool refreshing moment, her little boy was capturing a magical moment, an eternal impression. 8888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888
After filling the cup, GRANDMA would slowly pour the steaming hot coffee into the saucer. Then, she would gently blow, making it right for sipping. Perhaps a common practice at the time, and unworthy of anybody’s attention, but with wide-eyed interest in the sipping, a little boy watches and captures a ’magical moment’. Some 60 years later, her grandson sips every morning but never took to 'saucer sipping'.
101820PS
There’s a whisper in the air that tells me something sweet
The breath of which moves the vibrant colors of leaves on the tree
Moves the foliage with a rustle in an attempt to please,
To appease my senses
Five senses
Sensitive to emotion
There’s a voice in the atmosphere calling my name.
The leaves rustle,
My heart breaks,
I told you.
I thought I told you,
But I told the wind.
The wind always listens,
It’s a shame it just can’t understand.
You.
You might hear but you don’t listen,
Don’t try to comprehend.
It’s cold.
The moving air will do that to you.
So cold, I might freeze.
This wind blows a chill through my soul
That will not melt
Melt away by the heat of your touch.
This cold will reside.
Last time I talked it was to the wind.
I told it my soul but it blew my thoughts away.
Blew the thoughts out of my head and into your direction
Far away from me,
Unfortunately so, so far away
From you.
What did you think? Did you hear, did you listen;
Can’t you understand?
This heartbreak is a pain.
It’s not killing me
I’m already dead.
Every color every leaf every cloud blown by the wind
Through the air across space and time
Has a meaning
A purpose
It’s driven.
Each leaf’s a message,
Its color a unique code to expose,
Or ignore,
But blown by the wind.
The wind the wind,
Blown by the wind.
Sometimes I wish I could be blown over by a gust of wind,
My friend,
My listener,
To whom I can confide;
Transporter of messages and things to say,
To you,
Of all people.
The declaration of life in the dying color of plants is a symbol of my heartbreak.
Decay.
The green decays with the warmth of my heart, my flesh, my bones;
The boughs on the trees are about to break.
In the Autumn
The wind blows them so hard
They might crack.
The prevailing surge of air moves the trees,
Moves my body,
Moves me.
Do you hear it?
Can you feel it?
How can you understand?
Can you save me? Save me.
Save me from this place,
This time,
This terror.
Pick me up in the wind and blow me like a leaf
Through your mind,
Into your heart
To stay
Where the wind blows no more
And leaves cannot decay.
Niitthaar Perumai: The Fundamental Role of the Ascetic, Canto 3 of the Thirukkural-K27 and 28. Translations and Commentary.
K27: kunamenung kunreeri ninraar veguli
kanameeyung kaatthal larithu.
The wrath 'tis hard e'en for an instant to endure
Of those who virtue's hill have scaled, and stand secure. (Tr. G.U.Pope)*
The anger of those who have ascended the mountain of goodness, though it
continues but for a moment, cannot be resisted. (Tr. W.H.Drew & J.Lazarus)*
(*In Pope's book et al, n° K29)
Resist not the visitations of ire of the ascetic who secures his powers by the requisite discipline won only after equivalent efforts at scaling mountain heights (for the consequences will turn out dire). (Tr. T.Wignesan)
K28: ainthavitthaa naarra lakalvisumbu laarkoomaa
ninthiranee saalung kari
Their might who have destroyed 'the five', shall soothly tell
Indra, the lord of those in heaven's wide realms that dwell. (Tr. G.U.Pope)*
Indra himself, the king of the inhabitants of the spacious heaven, is a sufficient proof of the strength of him who has subdued his five senses. (Tr. W.H.Drew & J.Lazarus)*
(*In the respective books of the translators, n° K25)
The very existence of Indra, the King of the gods who rules the endless heavenly spheres, bears testimony to the powers of the ascetic. (Tr. T. Wignesan)
(Here again, there's some wayward proof that Valluvar, the presumptive author of the Thirukkural, was first a Hindu and then perhaps - by adoption - a Jain or a Buddhist ; both these latter religions having flourished - even nation-wide - since the great Maurya emperor Asoka's rule in the sub-continent. See my poem on the poet: "Master Valluvan the long-misunderstood Tamil Mentor" in Rama and Ravana at the Altar of Hanuman: on Tamils, Tamil Literature and Tamil Culture. Allahabad: Cyberwit.net, 2008, 750p. First published by the Institute of Asian Studies, Chennai, 2006, xiii-439p. Also available at PoetrySoup, PoemHunter or OccupyPoetry and in BLIND MAN's LANTERN: Poems that lash out, mock and rip into the dark. Allahabad: Cyberwit.net, 2015, 886p.)
© T. Wignesan - Paris, 2017