Tigers are the biggest cat in the wild
They love to pounce on their prey.
They lunge at animals' necks.
With their powerful jaws they hold on tight.
They pounce on and attack
Deer, wild boar and baby elephants.
When ill or injured, they will kill people
They can't catch their normal prey.
Tigers are known to hunt from dusk until dawn
When their prey are more active.
Their strong legs and sharp claws
Help them take down their prey efficiently.
Their keen sense of hearing and sight
Allow them to attack with precision.
Their unique coat patterns allow them
To get close to prey without being detected.
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
Suddenly my sense of hearing awakened by
just three sounds
…. the rasping call of a wood pigeon outside
somewhere
…. the low constant hum of my fridge
in the kitchen, nearby
…. heavy footsteps, on creaking floorboards
in the corridor
Another day, I would have called these noises
disturbance
instead, just then
serenity cradled my troubled soul
in her silken arms
she lulled me into an unfamiliar place called calm
in that moment
just then
peace.
dusk sets forest wanes
twilight stalk by clouds
full moon oversees
wind's puff rustles leaves
owl's sense of hearing
pause seek what are veil
3/26/2021
Tableau
It was only when facing my mortality
That I realized I'm not immortal
I stood at death's doorway
Facing the Grim Reaper
When my sense of taste and smell
Slowly faded to nothing
It heightened my sense of hearing
And I heard for whom the bell tolls
Terror gripped my heart
When told I tested positive
But I remained ever vigilant
And audacious in the pursuit of recovery
Locked away in my own little world
It has been a struggle alone with my thoughts
Sometimes I wonder deep down
If I'll ever taste food again
For COVID-19 robbed me
Of that which made me happiest
And as difficult as it is to cope with
I can rest knowing one thing
Though I may be a mere mortal
I found the strength and I'm still alive
Creatures
Geckos far cry about
Geckos close hide about
Unknown creatures veiled by sight
Not the sense of hearing
With-out worry of discovery.
There is music for the ears and fragrance for the nose,
delicious foods for taste buds, touch of satin in a rose.
But for us, the many lucky ones who have sense of sight,
art visual surrounds us, to fill us with delight.
No sense of hearing do we need when in the presence of
God’s beauty found in nature and gifted by His love.
God also gifted artists with creativity
to enchant all of our senses, especially visually!
We see it in our fabrics and clothing that we wear
enhancing many body types - this from designers’ flair!
It’s in our architecture - awesome structures in this world,
in statues and in pottery from which mere clay was swirled.
Famous paintings in museums are well-renowned as art
so visually stunning that they touch a person’s heart.
Photography and videos and the movies we hold dear
entrance our mind and sight as well as what we hear!
Creators we were born to be, like God, whose artwork is
the finest we can emulate. The best we see is His!
March 2, 2019 for Line Gauthier's Creativity in Visual Arts
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.
The kids at play appear distracted,
Remote control is used to aim
As they engage in stellar warfare
They’re concentrating on their game.
My wife and I talk in a whisper
There’s adult business to discuss
Not meant for ears of little children;
We raise no voices, make no fuss.
Out of the blue they interrupt us.
They have picked up all that we said!
Their sense of hearing is amazing;
We should use code or signs instead.
How come their ears are sharp and active
When they are even out of range,
Then when we want their full attention
They become deaf. Isn’t it strange!
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Contest: Funny Kids Poem Contest
Sponsor: Team PoetrySoup
Placed 2nd
I have said too much
Spilling out my feeling like a tub overflowing
Telling the world how I feel
Sharing the secrets that are meant to be keep hidden
Here I write confessing my love as if I was in a wooden box at church
Expressing myself so freely
Giving away parts of my soul
Like a lady of the night
I give it freely and charge none
Why was I born this way?
When will the time come that I change who I am
Who they all say I must be
I no longer want this life
No longer want to be that first smile
When you wake in the morning
I guess as of now
I have said too much
Am I happy for you probably not!
My words go unheard if the world lost the sense of hearing
That is okay I lost the sense of feeling
Feeling like a stepping stone
Wiping your feet on my soul
Your own doormat
Have I said too much already?
Perhaps I have but none will take notice
None will send a volley cheer to enlighten my darken mood
An artificial night as I lay here with the curtains closed to the world
Pondering what is my next move
The sun shines so bright outside these walls
But no light is seen
Maybe now I have said too much
Maybe I haven’t said enough
He did not want anything
after the sex and death of a protagonist.
Rebuffed and sliced through the body,
the onus was left on toxic mix.
He died in deprivation, in intensity
of hunger and fluidity of thirst.
The quartet of grenades stretched too far
the indemnity of shell shocked apostles.
A clan lost the sense of hearing.
A mystic odyssey of massacre, raising
the doubt of gifts in heaven. The starchy
statements and commands scattering.
SATISH VERMA
Who’s fluttering at my window,
Who's singing in silent tone?
Who’s delicate shadow appears,
On the windows of my home?
Who’s beauty is cast upon me,
Who is blessing me with grace.
I open my curtains with ease,
And stare at an invisible face.
I know she’s there, I feel her,
Though my eyes are both blind.
I know her presence is out there,
For I’m not blind in my mind.
My sense of hearing is keener,
And blindness is the blame.
I am visited by her beauty,
And Monarch is her name.
a blazing blast
of sharp, eerie silence
shatters, scatters away
all memory of ever having
a sense of hearing;
blinding lightning,
dazzling flame, deathly white
far darker
than the darkest stormy night
that wipes away
what's left of faintest sight;
crouching low,
crawling slow through bloody mud,
wounded warriors,
with their dying, with their dead,
themselves barely alive,
through suffering they survive,
never pushed down,
never trampled upon
in ignominy,
the blood bond
forged strongest by shared agony!