At the back of my palate
Near the top of my throat
Lies a region as holy
As the blood of a goat
Now feeling numb
Insensitive to scent
I wonder just where
My smell mojo went
Will COVID return it?
Can olfaction come back
As piercing and strong
As a hammering jack?
It comes in quite handy
In professions like mine
Where years have been spent
Designing a fragrance line
Cheese tastes like rubber
Soup like salt slurry
Coffee’s thick water
Hurry, nose, hurry!
Once you’re back in my life
I’ll be sure to cherish
Your powerful gifts
Till the day that I perish
Perceiving dimensions
Sensing textures and pitch
My nose, bump and all,
Has made my life rich
For granted I took it
Even knowing the threat
Now it’s on strike
And I’m starting to fret
“Wait a week,” they all say
And I don’t have a choice
By next Wednesday, I hope,
I’ll partake in rejoice!
Small Saudi the boy
Five years or so
And jovial the toy
Intriguing the foe
Six year he wrote
Every time a pen
A drop of flight
To land a new story
Every melody that come
Carrying the tunes of hope
The dance fuming soup
For all that knew
Saudi now stouthearted
With a promised utopia
Every ink drop debased
To quell apparent dystopia
At last a book length
Not a toy full ration
Saudi the man and gentle
For history the olfaction
'MY FIVE SENSES'
O' the scent of you, my senses view...
My five senses, my five senses, a specific sensory nervous system,
As I believe I smell olfaction you again with my nose and your smell is grand
And I see your beauty of you with my eyes and your sight vision
I hear the birds audition singing your name over and over again and again
I taste you gustation your liken your lips, your mouth the taste of Karo syrup
I touch you somatosensation you are soft as the woven cotton-silk inserted
So I smell you ah!.... the aroma
And I see you.... O' your beauty
So I hear the smoothing sounds
And I taste of you like the bird does a flower
So I touch you ever so gently as a misty rain shower
My senors tension pretentious forensic
my 5 senses
8/13/18
Five senses Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Viv Wigley
Flanked by Dame’s rockets and Yarrow
familiar flowers that greet me
every spring with their breezy nods.
Their irresistible, subtle
scents never cease to captivate
my olfactory perception.
I swoon amidst their fragrant breaths
and for one imaginative
moment become their distant kin
with an alien hue and scent
commingling with them nonetheless
until their odoriferous
scents again sober my senses
leaving a feeling of gladness.
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.