Senses Poems | Examples of Senses Poetry

Bright orbs that shimmer, secrets yet untold, They pierce the dark and trace the fading light. Through love and loss, their silent stories hold, A world within each gaze—so soft, so bright. They search the hearts once open, now concealed, Reflecting dreams that linger, lost in fire. Some truths they guard, while others are revealed, Mirrors of passion, sorrow, and desire. They cast...

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Ah, the fragrant fumes of paint drying on a picket fence followed by the grease-stained smell of turpentine on the brush Though doubtless matched by the aroma of oil spills gracing ...

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in a million words, I couldn’t say my heart’s trembling, thumping away apprehensive yet full of thanks… as his light softly touches my lips – a soulful silence still as the music who plays when the wind seeks her lovers the leaves, the trees… seem to shudder, erasing the past with a joy that flutters awake stirring, encouraging, embracing so the light falls over the last story of yesterday,...

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to rbs dear friend glad getting some time relax got me thinking burden life facts water and wind sand and ocean walks and swims sends away all tension except maybe mention envy needs intervention...

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thoughts are rested what’s left is sensation rising and subsiding centred in emptiness...

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WHEELCHAIR BOUND Dots appeared and disappeared a single sunray flashed onto wheelspokes, canvas seat comfortably frayed bought secondhand her unexercised legs flabby window bars rusted, panes cracked nobody cared there she sat thinking about cooking porridge with cinnamon tricky to wheel in two meter wide kitchen lighting gas stove sitting no easy feat this was charnel ground no cash...

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Lilac breeze - carrying hopes of honey...

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It's not the herbal That grows over the sea, Behind the mountain, But the herb that grows With you in the same yard The plants that hermit found Unnoticed, overgrown weeds Of plantains, onions, or bulb forms That matter most for healing Of body, soul and thoughts....

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Awaiting she who cares to find this special world where hope resides; the paradise within my mind where dreams were long ago defined, aroused by dawn's alluring show. Throughout the vibrant morning, skies are glowing hues of distant love. The color burst excites my eyes, dispelling anguish in my cries, and leading me where dreamers roam....

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Working in another Homegirl Working on orders Homegirl Over the Border Homegirl Over the Parchuka Essa In the twilight I love whos staring back at my eyes And back in my life On my back pages I was thinking I was going Through phases Everything thing that aint a Proper noun now Everything is people and places A comprehensive collection Of th collect awareness I was there when,...

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While walking with intrusion upon the light of morn I stumbled across a field of thorns The ghastly things were everywhere Standing erect and poised without a care The field was devoid of other weeds It seemed to go on endlessly Each bush was trimmed with precision so fine I wondered what gardener had wasted his time A path had been hewn in...

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When you don't know what to do. Open this and it will speak to you! Don't listen to a Religious man. Get a translation you can understand. In Luke's book 24:45 you will find. Jesus had to open the Disciples minds! Without God, you won't understand. This book is His spiritual rescue plan. We're born spiritually dead, alive in flesh. About God and this...

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One early autumn morning, before the sun awoke, before the moon had disappeared, or any robin spoke. I opened up my window to feel the breezes play and let a breath of beauty in before the hectic day. I gazed across the river, where hills of palest green, like candle-lighted altars, glowed soft in morning's...

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Deprived of your love All the lights would wink out In darkness I'd wander Direction in doubt The fear would creep up And breath on my neck Deprived of your love I'd soon be a wreck Deprived of your love All music would cease Melodies will not comfort Nor offer release All sound except anguish My ears will not hear Deprived of your love I'd go deaf my...

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Let the eye see, through clear, clean lenses Not a wilderness of mirrored reflections, Echoing biases of misconception, But, with true perception, rid of self. The sound I hear from out there, A call of bird, a ring of bell, Is not a story, memory nor a spell. It is improvisation in staccato, syncopation. The taste of a raindrop on the tongue, Is not,...

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