My kids have all written what is called a five senses poem while in elementary school. It's not a poem that rhymes, rather one that focuses on using your five senses to describe your surroundings. I shall attempt to replicate such a poem with a Que Sara Sara spin.
Home:
I see: dirty socks lying like dessicated worms in crumpled heaps on the floor; pale tumbleweeds of dog fur that roll across the floor with the breeze; piles of notebooks, keys, and sunglasses that make an end-of-school-year mountain on the kitchen island.
I hear: the wet, slurping sound of the dumb dog's tongue repeatedly licking a spot on her dog bed; the thunderous kawunking thump of the washing machine on spin cycle, sounding like a Blackhawk helicopter in my laundry room, signaling the end of its useful days; the squawks and screeches of yet another battle between siblings over the blaring television.
I smell: the bitter, but lovely smell of mama's little helper coffee brewing; the stale, heavy, still somewhat appetizing aroma of bacon that was cooked days ago; a slightly musty, warm Frito odor coming off the dog as dozes in the sunbeam by the door.
I taste: the bittersweet hotness of the cappuccino as I guzzle it down while signing school papers; the bright, minty flavor of the sweet peppermint gum I chew to keep coffee-breath at bay; the bland, plastic taste of the tip of a pen as I compose yet another grocery list.
I touch: the gummy surface of a countertop left mottled and blemished by dirty cups, bowls, dishes, and wrappers; a slightly damp, highly stinky baseball jersey as I throw it into the dying washer; a wet shower mat with my bare feet, causing me to leap onto cold tiles. (Ick.)
Home.
And there you have it. It's probably not the A+ work my children received on their poems describing places like Disneyworld or the zoo, but it's my poem and I'm sticking to it.
look past the peak expression
16 hours ago