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Our Glorious Senses

Let's attempt to mindfully use all of our senses

By Colleen Millsteed Published 5 years ago • Updated 5 years ago • 3 min read
Our Glorious Senses
Photo by Ava Sol on Unsplash

The human body is a real miracle

A comment to make you stop to think,

It’s an amazing piece of perfection

Automated and so totally in sync.

***

We don’t tell our throat to swallow

Nor do we tell our eyes to blink,

We never order our lungs to breathe

Or give instructions to our brain to think.

***

Our senses are the most glorious part

Without, we’d miss every day pleasures,

Not only do they highlight the present

But they ignite unique memory treasures.

***

When I smell a certain talcum powder

I’m transported back to my years as a teen,

A precious gift from my loving soul mate

When I was still his much adored queen.

***

When I smell a roast turkey still baking

I’m instantly a young adult once again,

Christmas Day spent with all my family

Eating plum puddings and candy canes.

***

When I smell the incoming fresh rain

It always makes me feel I’ve been reborn,

Not only cleansing the earth and my soul

But dampens the dust that’s airborne.

***

When I see a picture of someone I love

Great memories flash through my mind,

Of the places we have been together

And how we all felt at that exact time.

***

When I see a flowering tree or a sun set

I’m filled with wonder at Mother Nature,

White sandy beach, a moss covered rock

A flowing river, she’s a beautiful creator.

***

When I see my children’s faces in laughter

My heart expands until I’m sure it’ll break,

The pure beauty and delights I love to see

Those memories are definite keepsakes.

***

When I hear one of my old favourite songs

I’m miraculously taken back to that time,

Young and carefree, dancing and singing

Of parties and concerts, oh so very sublime.

***

When I hear a bon fire merrily crackling

My mind takes a trip to the middle of nowhere,

Nothing but dark skies with shining stars

A time relaxing with no worry or care.

***

When I hear the whisper of a graceful waterfall

I know I would be content to stay for awhile,

A meditative sound so calm and soothing

Loving, once more, Mother Nature’s style.

***

When I taste the inner soul of a coconut

I remember times when I was only nine,

Saving my pocket money all year long

So I could buy a coconut that was all mine.

***

When I taste the aniseed of Sambuca

I’m afraid my stomach starts to churn,

Too many night long drunken parties

I know, it took me awfully long to learn.

***

When I taste the first bite of baked cheesecake

My taste buds believe we’ve found heaven,

The magnificent creaminess of the cheese

Sweetened with sugar and a touch of lemon.

***

When I feel the oiliness of a sensual massage

Every nerve ending alive suddenly awakens,

A simple touch, a long stroke over my body

At that moment the rest of the world’s forsaken.

***

When I feel the warm caress of a soothing bath

My every day worry and stress fades away,

I lay back and enjoy the warmth on my skin

And during the entire time it is warm, I’ll stay.

***

When I feel the smooth soft skin of a baby

I find I’m back to when my boys were that small,

I’d caress their skin with my fingertips to soothe

They’d settle instantly and to sleep they’d fall.

***

Yes I do know that human beings are truly blessed

To have our sight, hearing, taste, smell and touch,

To use each sense automatically every day

While being transported to memories of such.

***

The human body is a complex piece of engineering

We often don’t think about and take it for granted,

Let’s attempt to mindfully use all of our senses

And if we do, I’m sure we’d all be totally enchanted.

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Please click the link below my name to read more of my work. I would also like to thank you for taking the time to read this today and for all your support.

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Originally posted on Medium

surreal poetry

About the Creator

Colleen Millsteed

My first love is poetry — it’s like a desperate need to write, to free up space in my mind, to escape the constant noise in my head. Most of the time the poems write themselves — I’m just the conduit holding the metaphorical pen.

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    Written by Colleen Millsteed