Sense Of Touch Poems

Skulls and Thorns

Skulls And Thorns
The darkness is cold.
Hold your hand and be bold.
Take me with you.
Sense of touch wherever you go.
From the grave to the sky.
Together, I feel alive.
You are beyond elegant.
Stand with you in darkness.
Watch the candle lights dance.
You are my match.
Light the sky on fire.
You're the one I desire.
You are mesmerizing.
Fly past the horizon.
A place with many dark shades.
Our shadows follow us on the way.
The night is ours.
I give you purple flowers.
We are creatures of the night.
Skulls and Thorns, a poem, live or die.
This is our path.
Strange love that will last.
We creep into the unknown.
Stand side by side facing the red sun.

Heart gentle eye mindful

It is to know without opening the eyes,
it is to feel without the sense of touch,
it is to understand tranquility of the soul,
and absorb the meaning of eternal presence!
a disturbed mind flutters in the wind of change,
the heart races past the galloping time,
the soul is forgotten in pursuit of pleasure,
mind flips from lost past to unseen future,
the truth is still. Very still. unaffected by time.
It is the anchor of eternity, beyond all known,
for movement is a delusion of lost minds,
in that truth is the vision of a gentle glow,
the glow of absolute knowledge,
that is felt and experienced by the mind,
with eyes closed in deep meditation.
heart is in rhythm with vibrations of creation,
it beats to show it is a function of the body,
it is gentle to symbolise the conquest of life,
Life that had been turbulent with a rowing eye,
but now with eyes closed the mind watches,
and gentleness of heart is breath of existence,
existence of the absolute reality, within which,
is the golden glow of eternal truth.

Bones and Angels

Time is not here with me.

No time, no sense of touch.

But emotions-

I know there are emotions! 

And the emotions are everywhere.

As if I am an empath, but somehow also stoic and uncaring.

It’s just halos instead of faces.

I’m getting my wish, in a way.

I’m not surrounded by strangers.

But rather- 

Skulls so that all I see are bones…

But the bones are smiling but empty.

I am the only one here who is flesh, and flesh is all I am…

The bones are people too, I have to remember.

The people who are bones are my family.

All around me.

But it hurts to see them.

Maybe I’m not flesh, because flesh can feel.

As if I am a spirit, having to watch them mourning.

And so I watch,

Until I fall asleep.

Falling asleep…

As if I am still living.

Sense of Touch

I like the warm sensation
of sunshine stroking my skin.
It's my link to Nature and
my tether to creation.

What's more assuring than touch;
can anything surpass it?
Without that tactile contact,
I would miss out on so much.

My cat's underbelly feels
luxuriously silky.
And I enjoy petting it;
as its purring oft reveals.

When the wind tussles my hair,
I feel its interaction.
And should a fly land on me,
my sense of touch tells me where.

Making my grandson wiggle
is a joyous occasion.
And when I tickle his feet,
I feel his belly jiggle.

Touching allows me to feel
the reality of life.
Unmasking my surroundings;
touch explores what is real.

Count Your Blessings

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

She's Crying 2

My country's tears are falling like rain.
She is hurting, and great is her pain.

Deep in the portals of her heart,
Desperately, she is crying.

She is going BLIND
And has listened to lying.

She is losing her ability to HEAR,
And is filled with fear.

She has lost so much,
Even her sense of TOUCH.

Her halls of academia and governance
Are becoming meaningless and senseless.

Her TASTE buds for exceptionalism are dying.
Her FRAGRANCE of inspiration is fading,

And her influence is slowly waning.
Yes, she is crying,

But too few even care
And from afar, they stare.

Millions have eaten at her table,
But presently, too few adorn her label.

Please, do my country the greatest favor today.
Hold her, squeeze her tight, and cease not to pray.

050123PSCtest. Brian Strand. A BRIAN STRAND PREMIERE no 1213

She's Crying

She is going blind
and has listened to lying.
She cannot hear,
and is filled with fear.
She has lost so much,
even her sense of touch.

050123PSCtest. Bite Size Contest no. 62
Line Gauthier

Nonsense

No sense of smell
No sense of touch
Oh, how I miss that sense so much
I cannot hear the words you say
In your inimitable way
I cannot taste your lips on mine
The way your arms around me entwine
I cannot smell the warmth of you
And cuddle like we used to do
BUT
I have vivid dreams at night
Dreams that fill me with delight
Memories come flooding in
And a new life for us begins again
The nighttime for us turns into day,
Where you and I can laugh and play,
A place where we can embrace
And look into each other's eyes and face
With love so pure
We can endure
The daylight hours,
Until my life on Earth is through
And my dream turns into reality with you.

The World of Sight When Goes

The world of sight is when taken
Away, let of vision waken,
Let world of sound sharply shaken.

Way laid gets when my wander lust, 
Let me hear time’s footsteps in dust, 
Dawn’s birds wake me with song-filled burst.

Feel of colours behind eyelids,
Faithfull’s faith passed on prayer beads,
Let me see heart of golden deeds.

If flower colours get frozen 
If world of butterflies has gone,
Fine, let me world of fragrance own.

If not, take all this away, much 
As ye like, just keep sense of touch, 
Let me feel the world just as such.
___________________________________
Musings |07.04.2022| Terza Rima

Poet’s note: As we know, glaucoma as a silent ailment takes away one’s vision gradually over passing years. First the peripheral vision gets narrower, ultimately to get reduced to a tunnel vision, and even that is lost one day. Of late I have been thinking of this eventuality in my life. But then the heart takes over from the head and says, never mind, there is that whole world beyond sight, a lot that we look at and still fail to see— the subject matter of this piece.

Is This So

Sense of touch enables soul’s aliveness 
Myriad forms thrive within space-time
Each having roots in That Oneness

God in-dwells us all, as love sublime
He speaks to us as voice of conscience 
In the void of stillness, we hark His chime

All souls are born free as pristine innocence 
Purity soiled by instinctive fear and desire
Shrouding innate divine luminescence 

Oh hermit, if we wish to rise higher ~
Consign ego to the funeral pyre

05-May-2022

Hearts Desire

floundering about in the darkness 
we ceased striving and struggling
proceeding in pristinity of silence
melding with the environ rustling 
heightening our sense of touch
amplified by innate childlike delight
grazing in and within and upon
space time continuum enveloping us
both within and without expansive
vibrational omnipresence encasing
void and manifestation in the tease
shifting roles attuned to outpouring
renewing within our spiritual heart
birthing dynamic stillness beauteous

29-March-2021

It's Reality

It's reality - that this world will come to an end
It's reality - that everyone has a friend.

It's reality - that things can be better
It's reality - that sadness could be sadder.

It's reality - that God made man
It's reality - to survive if you can.

It's reality - to make a go in life
It's also reality - to think twice.

It's reality - to have a sense of touch
It's sure enough reality - to love someone too much.

It's reality - that a tide is high
It's also reality - to see a grown man cry.

It's reality - to keep on growing
And it's reality - to keep on knowing.

It's reality - to push and strive
And it's also reality - to stay alive..

Miraculously

Dulled by years
  a sense of touch
a stream of tears
  nothing left, I feared

monotonous as weather
  days melding together
no markers between
  feasts of shoe leather...

you tip-toed stealthily
  probing a hole in my armor
set me a-tingling magically
  ruby lips enchanting me

Gift of Life

Hues of emotion
Nuances within
Their colouration
Rainbow beauteous
Prismatic delight 

We as witness
From the fulcrum 
Imbibe each pulse
Through sense of touch

In silence
Staid stillness 
Aliveness

Grateful
For Gods

Gift

09-October-2020

Ripple Effect

The water knows it’s raining before we do.

If only we would look.

I looked
 
And I still didn’t know.
 
I saw
 
But I didn’t feel.

Then those ripples began to collide. 

My train of thought left the station. I began my ride.

“Why are there so many ripples? And why one right after the next?”

“Were there fish underneath, coming up for air and breaking the surface tension?”
 
“No. There wouldn’t be so many fish in this shallow pond.”

"Were there flies lowering themselves to the water and then jumping up?”
 
“No. There couldn’t be so many flies.”

I felt a drop.
 
No. I realized it could only be rain; it was then that I felt a drop.

Now that my mind knows, my sense of touch knows.

But let’s not forget that the water knows it’s raining before we do. 

And it does its best to let us know.
 
But if we’re not paying attention
 
We may get caught in the storm.

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