I listen to my shadow, spelling words
of moon, a certain taste in songs, the grass
beside the path we used to walk where birds
were flutes and taste of secret books. “It’s passed”
your voice is painted red with weight of lead.
You touch me softly, but I hear just glass
the coldness of perfumes unsmelled, what’s dead
between a sense of skins. Your hair’s a veil
a shadow spelling words of sins that’s fed
and sacrificed for syllables gone stale.
Absence taste like beer, smells like cigarettes,
with hues of drumbeats in December gales.
I leave the meadows where we were beset
by honeysuckled sweetness I’ve forgot.
Shadow by Andy Warhol
Today Victoria wants us to use ”synesthesia” in poetry–where you mix up sensory sensations such as “tasting a rainbow”. I have tried to do this in a little heavily enjambed terza-rima sonnet. Please come and join us. The pub opens at 3 PM EST.
December 3, 2015
Björn Rudbergs writings 
Some good lines here! I like ‘absence tastes like beer, smells like cigarettes.’ <—-very metaphoric way to describe the unpleasantness of absence. And the ending with the forgotten sweetness, but ah – it seems you have remembered. Smiles.
Love this. This made my night
The memories and moods change as quickly as the manifesting tastes and colors. I love all the flavors of your rich, metaphorical writing, Bjorn.
Wow!
The line “Absence taste like beer, smells like cigarettes” really grabbed me. I can just picture some heart-broken person spilling his woes to anyone who will listen, as he sits by the bar…a cigarette smoldering in one hand, and a half empty bottle in the other…
A nearly perfect rendering, both sonnet, rife with enjambment, whirling with synesthesia. Like Marty & Bryan, I singled out the beer & cigarettes line. My poem is out there too; had fun with it.
Superb imagery, Bjorn, that expresses just the right feeling.One of the ones that really got to me was the beer and cigarette line. Just such a sense of emptiness (unless, of course, the beer has just been poured into a frosted glass!) Gayle is right, the emotions flow all over the place.
What a lovely sonnet Bjorn, filled with love’s absence ~ I specially admire this part:
You touch me softly, but I hear just glass
the coldness of perfumes unsmelled, what’s dead
between a sense of skins.
This is one incredible poem. Absence smelling of cigarettes and beer (and I picture a tiny dive I frequented during my university days full of sad folk) The last two lines are especially poignant.
Bjorn, I really liked the way this all worked so well especially the ending,”Absence taste like beer, smells like cigarettes,
with hues of drumbeats in December gales.
I leave the meadows where we were beset
by honeysuckled sweetness I’ve forgot.” Smiles…>KB
I had to read the verse “and sacrificed for syllables gone stale” more than once. I really liked it and its strength.
I really like this, Bjorn, especially your opening lines!
Oooh this is absolutely gorgeous! Lovely play on words 🙂
I love it all, too but the first line grabs my heart “birds
were flutes and taste of secret books.”
A gorgeous sonnet, full of colourful feeling.
de-light-ful
I experienced every sense that you highlighted!
This is my favorite line: “your voice is painted red with weight of lead”
To start, love the ‘taste of secret books’…and the ‘honeysuckle sweetness’ forgotten..whew…I’d say the scar has healed over if one can write about it, but, ouch!
Yes, I understand that association with the scent of cigarette smoke. It’s very strong connection with people and places. Nicely done.
This is a very interesting prompt. I may just give it a go, one of these days. “Absence taste like beer, smells like cigarettes,
with hues of drumbeats in December gales.” Wow! An awesome line of poetry!