Poetry smells like the steak my mother makes for dinner with all the seasonings and toppings I like. Poetry feels like a Jim Dandy ice cream from Friendly's with all the topping in the world going lavishly down the back of my throat. Poetry looks like a mysterious woman waiting for the A train. Poetry smells like the aroma of a different country. Poetry tastes like the sip of a beverage when you are blindfolded.
Poetry feels like the anticipation of the end of a good novel.
Poetry looks like something smooth guiding a boat through smooth waves. Poetry tastes like a peach smooth and sweet. It makes you wonder what is coming next. It has the smell of a ripe tomato or a rotted prune. The taste is strong and sour like a lemon.