It was a quiet taste but with character
like the way my favourite teacher
used to speak: quite softly
yet with authority.
It was a sustained flavour too,
as if the teacher’s voice
had explained at length
The aftertaste lingered
subtle as a whisper,
coming bit by bit.
At last it was only
in the mind,
like a song.
I just came across this in my 'Working on' folder and decided it's fine as is. It was inspired by a prompt, which I can't now find the source of, to describe one sense in terms of another. The shape of the poem on the page is my own idea, illustrating visually (a third sense!) the 'fading away' progression in the other senses mentioned.
I include the date of writing as it's posted so long after.
Some of these poems are autobiographical, some are entirely fictional, and some are a mixture of both. The intention is art rather than self-expression. I don't allow factual details to get in the way of poetry! (I do seek emotional truth.)
They are works in progress, and may be subject to revision without notice. Completed versions appear in my books. Nevertheless copyright applies to all texts found here.
Thank you for your comments. I read and appreciate them all, and reply here to specific points that seem to need it — or as I have the leisure. Otherwise I reciprocate by reading and commenting on your posts as much as possible.