deepundergroundpoetry.com
Synesthetica, Part V (Sapor)
v. sapor (taste)
ordering
fancy cappuccino
just to treat
my ears
to the gurgle-hiss
explosion
of frothing milk;
the first sip
of steamy bliss
carrying itself
into my throat,
dragging me
backwards, into
your waiting arms -
the last place
I felt safe
(memory)
the first kiss
anticipation,
an exquisitely effective
form of torture;
your eyes
searching,
asking every question
I’m eager to answer;
the taste
of you -
blooming wildflowers
pushing deliriously
through earthy floors
of thickets enchanted
by magick,
dark-roasted coffee
washing down
deep thoughts
wrapped in boyish humor;
I am instantly ravenous
for all of you
shaking myself free
of ghosts,
I take a bite
of the oven-baked
blueberry time machine
sitting on my plate,
suddenly reveling
in endless summers
spent roaming
my grandmother’s
wild gardens,
eating berries I picked -
sprinkled
(rather generously)
with table sugar
from blushing pink
cut-glass bowls
the softest glimmers
of rose and coral
sprinkling themselves
about the room,
the last light
of the waning day
refracting, reflecting
above my head
as I sink
my teeth evenly
into yesterday,
until I am left
with nothing -
still hungry
ordering
fancy cappuccino
just to treat
my ears
to the gurgle-hiss
explosion
of frothing milk;
the first sip
of steamy bliss
carrying itself
into my throat,
dragging me
backwards, into
your waiting arms -
the last place
I felt safe
(memory)
the first kiss
anticipation,
an exquisitely effective
form of torture;
your eyes
searching,
asking every question
I’m eager to answer;
the taste
of you -
blooming wildflowers
pushing deliriously
through earthy floors
of thickets enchanted
by magick,
dark-roasted coffee
washing down
deep thoughts
wrapped in boyish humor;
I am instantly ravenous
for all of you
shaking myself free
of ghosts,
I take a bite
of the oven-baked
blueberry time machine
sitting on my plate,
suddenly reveling
in endless summers
spent roaming
my grandmother’s
wild gardens,
eating berries I picked -
sprinkled
(rather generously)
with table sugar
from blushing pink
cut-glass bowls
the softest glimmers
of rose and coral
sprinkling themselves
about the room,
the last light
of the waning day
refracting, reflecting
above my head
as I sink
my teeth evenly
into yesterday,
until I am left
with nothing -
still hungry
Published 21st Sep 2020
Author's Note
Part 5 of 6, nearly there. Thanks for hanging with me on this one 💜.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 7
reading list entries 5
comments 11
reads 218
Commenting Preference:
The author encourages honest critique.
21st Sep 2020 2:43pm
21st Sep 2020 3:04pm
22nd Sep 2020 00:50am
Dear L,
I give. Hands down this series just keeps hitting home runs with beautiful descriptions and memories flooded simultaneously. H🌷
I give. Hands down this series just keeps hitting home runs with beautiful descriptions and memories flooded simultaneously. H🌷
22nd Sep 2020 4:55am
I adore that you are finding resonance with this project. It’s been a thing I’ve been meaning to do for some time now. Thank you as always for your kind words 💖.
23rd Sep 2020 3:47am
You're killing it. Most full dimensioned write I came across tonight. It immediately pulls you into a rabbit hole of sweet nostalgia, emotions alive in their nuances. The gorgeous direct voice, so intimate. Beautiful work. I love the parenthetical titles too.
23rd Sep 2020 6:04am
I appreciate that so much, Daniel. I’ve really been enjoying this project; I had a whole other set of plans for this write, but the muse doesn’t like to be so confined 💜
23rd Sep 2020 3:56pm
26th Sep 2020 5:32am
Just the concept of taking taste to memory is bold. It doesn't sound like it, but to do it do elegantly and execute it so well. Just imagining it seems like such a challenge.
The poem itself....
It brings me there. Withdraws my own memories I've missed. And i couldn't begin to express my gratitude for that less it never stop.
It... makes me miss so much. And reminds me that small times are quite large in reality.
The poem itself....
It brings me there. Withdraws my own memories I've missed. And i couldn't begin to express my gratitude for that less it never stop.
It... makes me miss so much. And reminds me that small times are quite large in reality.
26th Sep 2020 5:35am
The small moments between two people are what make up lifetimes of love exchanged ♥️
26th Sep 2020 5:41am
31st Jan 2021 6:49am
