Short Synesthesia Poems

Anew your lips shaped
a narrow line hiding the
bluish voice of yours....

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The unbearable beauty in jent
A colour I claim to invent
With multimedia
And synesthesia
It gives off a smelly sock scent...

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I see sun,
I see sorrow,
Mingled on the floor,
A cracking egg, a knocked door,
Mangled wealth and poor.

I hear sound,
I sometimes smell it,
Synesthesia knows not whence,
A response received to transmit sense.

I feel proud,
I feel pity,
For what I cannot tell,
Determine, please, what I should do:
Be sick or kind of well?...

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Our synaesthesia is for free,
Music is the muse for me,
It's in my blood, you see,
Images imaginary,
Elvira Madigan wakes to see,
Mozart play Mozart lucidly.
Swooner songs sound so silly,
Old rockers croon so vividly,
Funny lyrics in my brain,
Sounding a little deranged,
(It is hereditary 
in my family)
Yes, Synaesthesia is for free,
Smurfette's songs, so silly....

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The joyful feel
She envelopes over me
My heart hears her soul
Breathing shallow
A constant twinge
Of happenstance
We hope for more
Loneliness couples
In dour speech
I see the sounds
Of her twilight
Loving tenderness
Maybe her tailored harp
Plays significance
Into my exasperated
But sensible mind…

A blissful power

Russell Sivey

Entrant into Nette Onclaud's "SYNESTHESIA : INNER BODY MOVEMENT" contest

11/17/2012...

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Bouncing across the checker board
I'll captain this ship
Advance or retreat
Something in between

Power holds all the money
Its funny to be upset or
Disgruntled

Synesthesia rampart
As molten sense changes form
Its altered or reborn
A soul in the melting pot
Of Creation

So when its your turn
Ill observe
The movement and assumption
Which battery packed brigade
Made it across the line

Jujitsu in the heart of the city
Street stomping Wall Street papers...

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I balanced on a crescendo
as the reverberation of cannon
glanced off my chest and
orange chills ran across my back.
While, as if birthed by the composition,
warm and cool colors danced in the sky
and back, from the now dull red horizon.

I sat, as cellos and violas
seemed to lift a Prince and Princess -
then flutes and violins tossed them high
on bright and light notes 'til
landing on a bassoon's breath
where muscle and sound lay 
             softly still......

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