I’m hardly conscious, maybe half-alive,
but this palpable notion begins to prod
my peripheral vision. Synaesthesia. An odour
tickling the back of my throat. A low hum
bringing me to tears. My mind gropes for your hand.
Out of instinct, I guess. Easier to cling to familiar
visions, when all else is lost. Better still
to erase false sensation. Now you’re gone.
Marian asks us to play with Just One Word: Sensation
Ack. This really jarred me, Kerry. xo
ReplyDeleteOh dear. I wanted something kind of different from the usual sensations. Glad it worked though.
DeleteAlright, sweet thang. Let's get you in a bikini and have a pool party, pronto.
ReplyDeleteI hope this is about your mom and not a stupid boy.
Thanks, friend.. nah.. it's all made up - just working my usual theme because I am too lazy to think of something new to write. maybe my ideas have all dried up.
DeleteThe way you added Synaesthesia into the poem really made it highly effective with the mixed senses... made me ask myself: what's the scent of sorrow?...
ReplyDeleteAlso made me think of phantom pains after a lost limb.
yes, what is the scent of sorrow? Good one, Bjorn.
DeleteThis is incredibly powerful, Kerry! I could feel the odour tickling at the back of throat and the fact that it's easier to cling on to familiar visions.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Sanaa.. sometimes it's hard not to choke on memories.
DeleteI have been remembering my mother more than usual lately ~~ your poem touched my heart. “My mind gropes for your hand” is stunning.
ReplyDeleteWe are all missing someone, aren't we?
DeleteWow. What a gut-punch. Powerful writing and awesome use of imagery. Well done!
ReplyDelete(The Abject Muse)
You have captured that feeling exactly.
ReplyDeleteI tried, Sherry. new poems are heavy going for me these days.
DeleteYou want a word list? And remember, you can always take a word and break it into tiny words to make your own word list.
DeleteOne feels that all the sensations here are real as much as the writer might like to erase the painful. Well-done, Kerry. All best, k.
DeleteA word list sounds great.. always a good kickstart to something new.
DeleteThe sensation of losing the familiar and utter loss must be an intense one. You have captured it beautifully Kerry!
ReplyDeleteThank you, Carrie.
DeleteI love how you've manged to describe sensations that are hard to put into words.
ReplyDeleteSynaesthesia....and the mind groping a hand.....sublime.
I like that sensation of the odor tickling behind your throat. Intense feeling poem, Kerry.
ReplyDeleteThis is very interesting...i am trying to think about those feelings...
ReplyDeleteAn odour
tickling the back of my throat. A low hum
bringing me to tears. My mind gropes for your hand.
Out of instinct, I guess. Easier to cling to familiar
visions.................beautiful!
Is it selfish of me that I can't help but to make this poem all about me? Last night, I was craving grapes. But at the moment, I can't really taste grapes (or most of anything for that matter). I was craving what grapes are supposed to taste like. I remember washing a few grapes, putting one in my mouth, closing my eyes as I chew, swallowing... and sighing, when the taste on my tongue was nothing like the yumminess my brain knows and remembers.
ReplyDeleteIt is so painful to reach for what was once there to only realize your hand is filled with empty. Oh, this reaches the yearning in me for those who are no longer with me.
ReplyDeleteIt reminds me how memories can be made up of an unexpected patchwork of odd bits, and we do what we can to try to keep warm with it.
ReplyDeletelove goes to hide, or die, on the periphery
ReplyDeleteonce it has torn and crawled away from our centers
doesn't it?