Wallace LaBenne

Sensory Memory

Poetry sounds like snowflakes landing on spring flowers. I write, read and hear poems with my heart.






Sensory Memory

The smell of rain, the smell of snow,
the smell of fresh cut grass;
the smell of cane, the smell of dough,
the smell of grill fried bass
in memory amass.

The noise of din, the croon of tune,
the drone of killer bees;
the noise of tin, the croon of coon,
the drone of legal pleas
in memory unfreeze.

The feel of pelt, the feel of fleece,
the feel of Chinese silk;
the feel of felt, the feel of grease,
the feel of curdled milk
in memory release.

The taste of pie, the taste of wine,
the taste of good ice-cream;
the taste of rye, the taste of brine,
the taste of blue-gill bream
in memory redeem.

The sight of land, the sight of sea,
the sight of mountain ash;
the sight of sand, the sight of lea,
the sight of lightning flash
in memory unlash.

© Wallace Dean LaBenne

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