Pungency Poems | Examples

a certain pungency

nothing

appears as 

this story

and that story

and when the

story involves

the me character

there may seem

a certain

pungency~~

Poetry; My Lover

Remind me again my name,
I slip into a waking coma,
Now and then.
Now and then.
Now.
Lost in rose-coloured petals
Of what feel like memories.
Who I am?

There are time I become you.
I know it's you.
Time and again.
Time and again.
Time.
It ticks and your skin's sticks on my manners
I am certainly no fool.
No sir.
Yet,it sticks.
Creepy glue.

A faceless writer
A spineless Messiah
A choreographed nightmare
A reactant whistle blower
A blizzard in a curtain.
A tarot card misplaced.

The greatness of a Capricorn
Seduction of a narcissistic Virgo,
Allure of a Taurean rage,
the pungency of misty earth.
Or just Monday blues
With sexual tension.

I am confused.
Remind me again my name.
E'ry time I say it,
I hear you.

Wistful

Great thoughts once kissed my lobes
Before blank despair her flags raised;
And brimless hope reigned as globes
Of full-shining stars in glowing cased. 

Now see what dismal desolate shells 
Melancholy sulk where dreams stood;
Wherein arid future's unavailing wells
Barren gape amongst vipers’ broods.

Kind heaven upon my oblations smiled
Many long years dead when luck shone,
And winds favorably blew like lilacs wild;
Erst when juvenility lit bright hours gone.

Present times repugnant drown in bile
Hastily milked from some putrid reptile,
Their galling pungency outlasts high grit
Cowards laud in bold battles’ heroic writ.

If fair fortune's rotations should bring
A morsel of past’s elusive sweetness,
I’ll one dozen more grateful carols sing
Than did my lips under boyish harness.

Nature: Volunteer Firefighters

"The fire has crossed containment lines,
Dunns Road has just been breached,
Emergency vehicles have withdrawn,
You cannot be reached",
Local radio announces every minute,
Evacuation roads are shut,
Power and phones are all now down,
You're alone with the smoke and dust.

Then through the haze of black and red,
Fire cowlicks up your house,
Adrenaline shakes your trembling hand,
Your legs, your chest, your mouth,
It's just you and your hose in the fight,
No mercy- do or die,
Fire licks at everything you have,
Everything left dry.

Then, in a moment, it's gone again,
Wild wind waltzed it up the hill,
And you stand alone in complete silence,
To witness what's been killed,
When, from nowhere, the acrid stench,
From animals now burnt black,
Battle with the pungency,
Life under attack.

Tears now drop, you try to feel,
Deep down you know you're broke,
As you see the stoic volunteer brigade,
Floating through the smoke,
You fall, they catch in arms of love,
Take you away from here,
To a place of peace and mates and hope, 
With a smile, a joke and beer.

Colored Wolf, Legends of the Wolves

Should I, mere a rabbit of sand, shiny hair,
sport a shock of fur mired in clay,
they from gofer mounds, propped on to peer, would sound warning
through the sun glades and sleep grotto shades.

“A pall fellow lights whereupon we here graze.
See ye lithely to him yield path.
He in bone pastel smocks with such likeness to bare
plodeth sloughs dank, decay’s fell morass.”

“This chap’s marks are slurred, kindred ‘s smudged,” they’ll say,
“in a mud that is not of our warren.
He looks sullied by drear earthen labyrinths far ‘way,
perhaps fox hole, cat hovel, or den of wolves’ coven.”

For when foul skies do strike, marring trees with their curses,
rains fall to douse scintillate branches.
A pungency hovers where a torrid sludge cools.
Its paste casts forbidden clan hues.

Now the wolf craves not easily his like or lean.
He is wary of ghouls in his ranks.
“Gaunt swagger, I see,” he’ll think,
“This one leave be, who with me, shares the gore and the grisly.”

For in drab sheens to drape, shall the countenance daunt.
Browns besmirched will, in ashes, urge, “Yay,
it is he colored wolf.” In airs Lupus, I’ll steep,
strutting meekness purged, brave in cloak gray.

Too Fishy Here

This place smells nasty to me
Any place I’d rather be
Fisherman Wharf, yes, I know.
Fresh everything caught below.

Pungency of fish galore
Smell I truly do abhor
Shrimp tastes too fishy for me.
To Midwest I’d rather be.

The Jabberwock

The Jabberwock, the Jabberwock,
Beware, beware the Jabberwock!
When you be out in forest deep,
Secure in bed, awake, asleep,
Protected by superiority,
Cloaked within seniority,

Thinking you safe in your encampment,
It comes with magic and with enchantment;
It flies aflame through forest trees
And sweeps up idle employees.
Not one will prove to be saveable;
All will prove quite microwaveable.

And, though your troops be sore mismatched,
Though none return who be dispatched
To meet and fight this host chimeric,
The VORPAL BLADE, from times barbaric,
May yet defeat this beast malevolent;
In the end may prove prevalent.

So those of us who’s seen its eyes, 
Those of us who are familiarized,
Who’ve smelt its horrid pungency,
Will waive our normal consultant’s fee
And offer you a special deal:
One vorpal sword, for just a steal.

Former Fraulein In France

Outside the city, tasty pomegranates grow,
the Wakefields look forward to delayed honeymoon.
British coffee merchant, James was raised in Bordeaux.
Each day, they sample wines after lunch, after noon;
sober sweethearts smile, their selections apropos.

New to their palates - pomegranate/cranberry,
two acidic fruits, both improve in the blending;
secret recipes mix sweetness with pungency.
The two lovers delve in, raw tastes that are trending;
mixing with dry merlot, a cheese rich and creamy.

James relishes sharing his past with Mallory,
his new bride of three weeks and his dearest delight.
It is here, she'll meet his extended family.
It’s here they foster new clients, enjoy old sights.
Here, they reserve a right and preference for coffee.

written 12 April 2016

Beneath the Blues

Candle was center staged
A Candlelight Romance perspired 
Flame lit up beautiful faces
Flame, ruthlessly pierced with rushing Nicotine
Lovers Love drowned in the Sea of Smoke
Passionate kiss became oblivious
The burnt lips cried in vain
Only Pungency of Ashes, choked fragrance of Love

So many cries, so much noise
Numb Eardrums, an agonizing mum
Estranged from Jazz, envious of Saxophone 
A burning Spirit, a claustrophobic Heart, left tussling
No Mango for Tongue, it’s all bitter Booze
Trembling with Disgust and debris of abuse
No sense of direction, no sense of senses
Compassion dwindles in all Tenses

Those long Drives look real long
Like a rush in a Marathon
Windows are ruined by viscous dust
Praying Lords for a heavy Rain bust 
Scent of a Woman is cringed 
Manifestation of Romance winched

It’s high time to burst the bubble
Time for a Kiss beneath the blues of water
Let those wet curls smitten you
Let that touch giggle you
Drive down those tamed roads
Feel the rush inside
Stop snooping for the Rains
Take a dip into wet terrains.

The House

The shelter and comfort I gave so freely was gone with my destruction. The child once played alone and content in the comfort of my stairwell. The cat stalked the banister for a friendly monster to attack. The tempting odor from the kitchen, and by the fire, the pungency of the rain laundered dog steaming dry, all memories!

Hate for me was born at the deaths of my several masters. Their Mistresses not understanding that I sheltered also death. Failing to remember the many times his grim shadow was closely put aside as I allowed life also to enter or remain. They failed to realize I must shelter all! Blind to the cause as justice is to the defendant. 

The shadows rise and fall with the passing of time, and now, all trace of me is gone. Yet the comfort I gave is still there. For those who knew me come to the spot where I stood and dream of the past. I keep it safe here, waiting for their return.

Again, in the remaining sod, I shelter them with the comfort of their memory of what I once was to each of them.

Obscurity

layers of fog             

                                            blanket the bayou

                                              obscuring vision

                                          the pungency of decay

                                            assaults my senses

3/17/15
For Andrea's Tanka 2 contest
6th place

Unevenly Angular Existence

at the end of the right angle,
your brain function seems unattractively acute,
and the putridity and the pungency is quite obtuse
something happened between the early period and the now
it is as if you watered down your morals and accept anything that comes
you changed your hair, your presentation, your reaction, and your choice of friends
i seem to have fallen into the trapezoid and the isosceles triangles of life with you
each curve is sharp and the focus has no clear purpose
i am tempted to go back to the cooler center where 45 connects with 45
maybe then i will be able to breathe easier because the temperature coming from nowadays you is not working in this spherical hemisphere of me
it is getting so that now there is no common ground at the midpoint
i just end up passing you by as you make yet another attempt to keep my attention
totally uneven is our overall ebb and flow

In Search of Peace

The tiny thrusts 
and a blunt fuel
scrambled over the wet contours.
           There was an ephimerality 
           in overdue kisses 
           of death.

The interplay of sex
and spirituality starts,
bites the bullet and pushes the boat.
           The pungency of an elegy
           was a secondhand divorce
           with death.

Jealousy: sand was
under the nails. Now
I will find the remains of an ocean
           in your eyes. There was nothing
           else to be done than taking off
           the bikini top like a death.


Satish Verma

However Here We Still Remain

the road to her was not easy
the valleys of her mind were not smooth ones
there were times when love smelled like new suitcases
there were times when hate and its pungency was the freshest scent
however here we still remain wrapped in each others arms
how we can be big kids teasing adult things is beyond me
how we can remove the thorns and clean and bandages all the wounds is not that plain to see
the road to me was not that easy either
the volume of my moodiness brought out the worst in the worst
my loner's mentality was like arrows playing follow the leader with arrows
there were moments when we were plotting murder schemes in our minds
there were moments when we wanted to just jump from some high place ourselves
however here we still remain kissing each other like halloween candy bandits
how what comes next transpires is beyond even the most vivid imagination
how what ultimately becomes the conclusion occurs befuddles even the most genius of a mind
all we know is that we simply love each other
the rest we put in the Healing Hands of God....

Unused Hands

This Satanophobia makes me fear more
A jobless framework like a rust armour
From the arsenal of an old strong warlord
Surefooted to cut down a long strong rod.

Its an aframomum melegueta
Which its pungency hurts than a cutter.
Idleness; a caustic abstract worker
Bow in the hand of evil chief archer.

Seest thou an idle man; devil's abode
Activates arch injurious spirit mode
There, every evil venture was acted
To destroy good works that was created.

The master of mischievousness is good
At making an unused hand as his food.
He puts evil on an engage-less man
Like ao dai on vietnamese woman.

Ye idles away like a falling leaf
While others toil to earn a coin for beef
And ye rip off them of their hard labour.
An idle man, a devilish harbour.

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