When You Come to Your Senses
Dented and scratched, dedicated life-line.
Cold, reserved mostly but fills my tummy!
Small and addictive, constantly calling me over.
Smells like hell. Tastes like heaven. Prickly love.
Sleek White Metal Horse rides high in the saddle.
Tasty, tender tri-colored tidbits tantalize my tongue.
Sipping cool cinnamon lemon infusion so refreshing.
Circles of magenta, yellow, pink; fragrant love given.
Musty, stained from use; flammable, if given an excuse.
Sweating from those emerald bits that singe my tongue.
Lavender scented in steam with lemon wedges, sssssss!
Bright as summer, a ball of fragrant sun kissed sweetness.
Tough fluff stuff faster than a speeding bullet sweet images.
Happy daze in a shiny blue and white can, low carb to boot.
Pea-sized Crest on gnarly bristles, scrubbing my minty molars.
Tattered but hanging together still, good for another sleep at least.
A pair of mirrors that let me look out, but don’t allow anyone to look in.
You can see reflection through it. It tells what you look like from inside.
Chuffs and puffs, whistles and bells, squeaks and squeals, creosote smells.
Sticky sweetness fills my lungs as I sit, on the verge of sneezing, in deep shade.
Lovely brown seed of the gods – valuable like gold – satiates, intoxicates my senses.
Original prompt: Write about something by describing it using your senses, without naming what it is.
Rakhi Shelat, Julianna M. Cruz, Frances J. Vasquez, Frances T. Borella, Debby Johnson , Nan Friedley, Burcu Misirli Chatham, Thomas Vaden, Elizabeth Aamot, Rob McMurray , Rose Y. Monge, Raine Lefaivre-Naggi, John DiFusco, Cati Porter, Kamelyta Noor , Natalie Champion, Gudelia Vaden, Juanita E. Mantz Pelaez, Ginger Galloway, Janine Pourroy Gamblin, Kris Lovekin
Inlandia: A Literary Journey 