Rainbow
Woven in texture of sunlit colour,
I'm mere clouds torn droplets.
Short of any inward charm, nothing
Is sensed.Focus on senses, not
On the objects of senses.
poem by Yoonoos Peerbocus

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Screen The Sufferings
With the senses you know the world.
The senses awake, you're aware.
The unbridled senses lead to lust.
The sensory objects induce greed.
With the mind you build ambition
And ignore the path to attain.
With the ego you feel importance
And want at any cost to achieve.
Senses, mind and ego reined,
Suffering is screened.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar

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Eight senses
(poetry in progress)
the world starts out
with a consciousness
half a consciousness
then one consciousness
then they morph with one sense,
ask the mountain
they stand and stand until the
volcanoes start to throw them out
then two senses, ask the trees
and the shrubs criss crossing
with your paths in the field
they stand and stand, take
the sunshine and make green
a colour for continuous evolution
their only shortcoming is their
two sense world, they stand and stand
a state of being, a state of living
and that's all
the three senses, the four senses
and the five senses, the human beings
they cry to God to let them
have eternal life
but what ever that's for
without the sixth, seventh, or eight sense
unveiled to them
sixth, the sense to connect the past
with the future
the seventh, the sense to connect
the future with the million of consciousness
clarmouring for the eight senses
to be with the ultimate, the Om,
the Divine where all senses
come together with one Supreme
consciousnes, amalgamation of
senses where knowledge springs forth
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo

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The essential attribute of a new sense is, not the perception of external objects or influences which ordinarily do not act upon the senses, but that external causes should excite in it a new and peculiar kind of sensation different from all the sensations of our five senses.
quote by Johannes P. Muller

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Which is chaste?
My eyes are sharper than swords.
Your attention was held.
My words are sharper than eyes.
Your heart was won.
My pen is sharper than words.
Your senses struggle.
Is my sharpest weapon blunt
‘Cause your senses are strong?
No, your senses are iron sheathed.
Else, your senses are the weakest.
The senses shown can be visible.
Hence you dread to show.
The shown heart, who knows?
Hence, you dare to concede.
Heart, more precious, is given.
Yet you guard your senses.
Throne is lost; sword is guarded.
War is lost; battle is waged.
Kings are friendly; subjects only war.
Heart is given; senses are withheld.
Visibly chaste; Invisibly what?
13.06.99
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar

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Licia Sonnets 29
Why died I not whenas I last did sleep?
O sleep too short that shadowed forth my dear!
Heavens, hear my prayers, nor thus me waking keep!
For this were heaven, if thus I sleeping were.
For in that dark there shone a princely light;
Two milk-white hills, both full of nectar sweet,
Her ebon thighs, the wonder of my sight,
Where all my senses with their objects meet,--
I pass these sports, in secret that are best,
Wherein my thoughts did seem alive to be;
We both did strive, and weary both did rest;
I kissed her still, and still she kissed me.
Heavens, let me sleep, and shows my senses feed
Or let me wake and happy be indeed!
poem by Giles Fletcher The Elder

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In the island of my senses
In the island of my senses
You have come as a lover.
Last night you touch
With your fingers my
Softness and I wriggled
In such sweetness.
I touch you too with the
Sands of my shores
You do not really know
That I am here
In my flowers and
Shells. I whistle and
Sigh in my winds of
My islands. You do
Not know that I am
Here. In the island
Of my senses I lay
With desire concealed.
As I kiss you in your
Sleep, I am not even
A part of your dream.
In the island of my
Senses, you are
The boat that leaves
Me tomorrow. I am
Staying in pain.
My clouds bleed
In scarlet sunset.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa

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Blake said that the body was the soul's prison unless the five senses are fully developed and open. He considered the senses the 'windows of the soul.' When sex involves all the senses intensely, it can be like a mystical experence.
quote by Jim Morrison

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pushing The Senses
Finishing avenue
Pulling you under now
Your fighting the undertow
Before it sucks you down
Pushing the senses
It's pushing the senses now
Come on come on
What are you going to do
You can't find another day
Come on come on
You're pushing the senses
You're pushing the senses through
Always, I can depend on you
But sometimes
It's burning a hole right through
Let's talk about it
Staring at photographs
Post it on the wall
Images smiling down
The face of a lonely soul
Come on come on
What are you going to do
You can't find another day
Come on come on
You're pushing the senses
You're pushing the senses through
Always
'cause I can depend on you
But sometimes
I'm finding it hard to choose
Let's talk about it
Always
I can depend on you
But sometimes
It's burning a hole right through
Let's talk about it
Let's talk about it
Always
I can depend on you
But sometimes
Sometimes
Always
I can depend on you
But sometimes
It's burning a hole right through
Let's talk about it
Always
I can depend on you
But sometimes
It's burning a hole right through
Keep pushing the senses through
Let's talk about us
song performed by by Feeder

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The place beyond between
Not named as joy;
not named as happiness..
at the end of a thought
the eyes lifted; then,
only the senses;
only the senses’ action seen;
only the endless beauty
of the beautiful unnamed;
only the glory of the food
of the senses unattached;
where is the mind
in this perfect satisfaction?
who needs to name this blessing,
blithe? or to name it, bliss?
beyond a name;
yet known.
*
poem by Michael Shepherd

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Focus
focus
focus on god
focus on freedom
focus on forgiveness
focus on sweet speech
focus on treasures
focus on humility
focus on commitment
focus on mind
focus on success
focus on health
focus on healthy transformation
focus on goodness
focus on laughter
focus on fun
focus on angel
focus on sweetness
focus on wealth
focus
poem by Johnny Walks

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Five Senses
Now my five senses
gather into a meaning
all acts, all presences;
and as a lily gathers
the elements together,
in me this dark and shining,
that stillness and that moving,
these shapes that spring from nothing,
become a rhythm that dances,
a pure design.
While I'm in my five senses
they send me spinning
all sounds and silences,
all shape and colour
as thread for that weaver,
whose web within me growing
follows beyond my knowing
some pattern sprung from nothing-
a rhythm that dances
and is not mine.
poem by Judith Wright

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Since I've Come To My Senses
Giving up on my life,
To not sleep peacefully at night.
With a pacing of the floor...
Back and forth and uptight.
Not anymore.
Since I've come to my senses,
Open are those doors I've closed before.
Giving up on my dreams,
To witness them flow downstream...
Panicked.
Not anymore.
Since I've come to my senses,
Down came those fences...
And defenses raised.
Doing things for others to see them pleased,
With approval unshown...
They appreciated me.
Not anymore.
Since I've come to my senses.
I will not be accused,
For something done I did do.
To then feel used and psychologically abused...
With an inflicting of my own torment?
No!
Not anymore...
Since I've come to my senses.
Giving up on my life to feel accepted,
As a focused objective to have others reject...
No.
Not anymore.
I've closed those doors.
There are so many others I had to learn to open,
With a coming to my senses.
Before I prevented so much I now can see.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

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There Our Senses Touch
There our senses touch.
In the fields of...
Fresh grass scented.
To glisten with dew,
Lifted,
By a dawning morning...
Clear.
Bright.
And appetizing awakening eyes.
There our senses touch.
With an open window nearby.
Where the 'is' and 'why' of life,
Breezes through fields God gives...
To make the experience of it,
Flagrant with inconsistent fragrance shifting.
From day to day.
As if to outdo each creation made.
There our senses touch.
In the fields of...
All there is to life.
And to know it can not be simply lived,
If not witnessed.
There our senses touch.
Outside of ourselves.
With none of it to be lived,
To sit on fences.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

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Say ‘No’ to Drugs
I was a catastrophic mess
Utterly and completely useless
Alcohol has its limit
Unless you desire to hit rock bottom-pit
Do you want to get high?
Please say ‘No’ to drugs
Mellifluous music is plenty to make one fly high
Please say ‘No’ to drugs
Surplus of love is plenty to make one fly high
The consequence of this chemical substance
With family and friends, you find yourself at distance
You lose your focus and your mental balance
What is left is an entire nuisance without guidance
And it was always blowing a wind of hell
My mind was always thinking ‘Money, Drugs and Girls’
Deep down, I sensed snubbing cocaine
Was the only way to stop me from going insane!
I tried to find a corrective institution
Because telling lies was an addiction
My senses somewhere were vindictively bugged
And I was horrified at the mere thought of being a thug
Say ‘No’ to drugs
Say ‘Go’ to drugs
Say ‘Boo’ to drugs
And if you have said ‘Yes’, please just pull that plug
Copyright 2008 - Sylvia Chidi
poem by Sylvia Chidi

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The senses are the organs by which man places himself in connexion with exterior objects.
quote by Jean Anthelme Brillat Savarin

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I was afraid that by observing objects with my eyes and trying to comprehend them with each of my other senses I might blind my soul altogether.
You Come To My Senses
I picture you on the beach
Lying in the sand
Out of reach of my trembling hands
I picture you in a car
Blonde hair in the wind
I picture you in my arms
And the touch of your skin
The smile on your face
The way that you taste
(chorus)
You come to my senses
Every time i close my eyes
I have no defenses
You come to my senses
I can't stop this ache inside
I have no defenses
You come to my senses
Driving home in the cold
January rain
I've got to find my way out of this pain
I reached for you in the night
I dreamed of your kiss
I woke before it got light
With your name on my lips
Alone in my bed
Your voice in my head
(chorus)
I picture you in my arms
And the touch of your skin
The smile on your face
The way that you taste
You come to my senses
Every time i close my eyes
I have no defenses
You come to my senses
I can't stop this ache inside
Oh, i have no defenses
You come to my senses
Ah...
song performed by by Chicago

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You Came To My Senses
I picture you on the beach
Lying in the sand
Out of reach of my trembling hands
I picture you in a car
Blonde hair in the wind
I picture you in my arms
And the touch of your skin
The smile on your face
The way that you taste
(chorus)
You come to my senses
Every time I close my eyes
I have no defenses
You come to my senses
I cant stop this ache inside
I have no defenses
You come to my senses
Driving home in the cold
January rain
Ive got to find my way out of this pain
I reached for you in the night
I dreamed of your kiss
I woke before it got light
With your name on my lips
Alone in my bed
Your voice in my head
(chorus)
I picture you in my arms
And the touch of your skin
The smile on your face
The way that you taste
You come to my senses
Every time I close my eyes
I have no defenses
You come to my senses
I cant stop this ache inside
Oh, I have no defenses
You come to my senses
Ah...
song performed by by Chicago

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To Believe Impossibilities
do we need to sight grow sharper senses
or do we need to believe the impossibilities
our senses proclaim before our orb eyes
poem by Terence George Craddock

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Main Definition
The main definitions of understanding are open,
Entwining the days with inclinations of fiction.
The brine of the sea is similar to the sweetness
Of a language and the language of humans.
One is designed to computerize industry
And feel the loneliness of the laws that govern.
We are colour-blind, and the eyes shall dine
On the innocence that conquers the perturbed.
A biosphere conceals my soul as an eternal rumour,
Commanding my senses like the senses of animals.
We are braver than the men who chant songs
And the music has disappeared due to ages of laughing.
poem by Naveed Akram

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