How delicious is pleasure after torment!
quote by Pierre Corneille
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What I advise you to do is, not to be unhappy before the crisis comes…some things torment us more than they ought; some torment us before they ought; and some torment us when they ought not to torment us at all. We are in the habit of exaggerating, or imagining, or anticipating, sorrow.
The Inquisitive Man’s Dream
Á Nadar
Do you know, as I do, delicious sadness
and make others say of you: ‘Strange man!’
- I was dying. In my soul, singular illness,
desire and horror were mingled as one:
anguish and living hope, no factious bile.
The more the fatal sand ran out, the more
acute, delicious my torment: my heart entire
was tearing itself away from the world I saw.
I was like a child eager for the spectacle,
hating the curtain as one hates an obstacle…
at last the truth was chillingly revealed:
I’d died without surprise, dreadful morning
enveloped me. – Was this all there was to see?
The curtain had risen, and I was still waiting.
poem by Charles Baudelaire
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Delicious
April, (? )
When you get that smile in your eye.
Something inside
Goes wild wild wild.
Sunshine
Chase away my rainy days.
Our summer leave
Is here. please stay.
Chorus:
Ill hold (hold) you in my arms next to me.
You (you) are the one that set me free.
You (you) put the fire in my heart.
Delicious.
Ill (hold) never ever ever let you go.
Youre (you) my taste of honey, girl.
You (you) put the fire in my heart.
Delicious.
Rainbow
Let me know the storm has past.
These memories
Will last and last.
Passion
Curling through the core of the night.
Where have you been
All my life.
Ill hold (hold) you in my arms next to me.
You (you) are the one that sets me free.
You (you) put the fire in my heart.
Delicious.
Ill (hold) never ever ever let you go.
Youre (you) my taste of honey, girl.
You (you) put the fire in my heart.
Delicious.
We as one
Here we lie.
Holding hands
Across the sky.
Please be mine. Ill never ever leave you.
Please be mine.
Ill hold (hold) you in my arms next to me.
You (you) are the one that sets me free.
You (you) put the fire in my heart.
Delicious.
Ill (hold) never ever ever let you go.
Youre (you) my taste of honey, girl.
You (you) put the fire in my heart.
Delicious. (put the fire in my heart)
Ill hold (hold) you in my arms next to me.
You (you) are the one that set me free.
You (you) put the fire in my heart.
Delicious. (put the fire in my heart)
Ill (hold) never ever ever let you go.
Youre (you) my taste of honey, girl.
You (you) put the fire in my heart.
Delicious. (put the fire in my heart)
Ill hold (hold) you in my arms next to me.
You (you) are the one that set me free.
You (you) put the fire in my heart.
Delicious. (you put the fire in my heart)
Ill (hold) never ever ever let you go.
Youre (you) my taste of honey, girl.
You (you) put the fire in my heart.
Delicious.
Hold.
You.
You.
Delicious.
Hold.
You.
You.
Delicious.
Hold.
You.
You.
Delicious.
song performed by by New Edition
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Opposite displeasure
Success gives pleasure.
Conquest gives pleasure.
Revenge gives pleasure.
Hunting gives pleasure.
Coveting gives pleasure.
Mind; every pleasure
Gives equal and opposite
Displeasure to others.
In a way we act as sadists
04.05.2012
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sky Seasoning
A piece of sky
Broke off and fell
Through the crack in the ceiling
Right into my soup,
KERPLOP!
I really must state
That I usually hate
Lentil soup, but I ate
Every drop!
Delicious delicious
(A bit like plaster),
But so delicious, goodness sake--
I could have eaten a lentil-soup lake.
It's amazing the difference
A bit of sky can make.
poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Chocolate Pleasure
I love the pleasure of chocolate
As it melts upon my tongue
It dribbles all through my mouth
And squishes around my gums
I close my eyes for a moment
As my senses are quite aware
Of the delicious wondrous flavor
Of chocolate lingering there
There are so many chocolate flavors
The dark and the medium too
White chocolate is truly scrumptious
Just perfect, my friend, for you
So whenever you need something sweet
You must try this simple treasure
Just pop a morsel into your mouth
And enjoy some chocolate pleasure!
poem by Marilyn Lott
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Delicious Concoctions
Sweet, delicious concoctions
How delightful it is to see
Brought together by the platefuls
Just for you and me
Sticky and delightful
Chocolate of every color
Ah yes, Valentine’s Day
It is a holiday like no other
Forget about the diet
Just for about a day
For celebrating this holiday
Candy is usually the way
Brownies are delicious too
And such a joy to eat
Once again fill your plate
Of these awesome delicious treats
For Valentine’s Day is only
A once a year event
I can’t think of a better way
For my day to have been spent!
poem by Marilyn Lott
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Pleasure Is The Bait
Excitement gives pleasure;
Exploration gives pleasure;
Sexual love gives pleasure.
Pleasures are momentary.
Pleasure can peak the happiness
Or cause the valley of sorrow.
Pleasure is the bait one's after
Not minding the after-effects.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Your kiss is delicious
Baby I know
Your kiss is delicious
It smells sweet so
I am not suspicious.
Baby I know
Your kiss is delicious
Hoo Hoo Hoo Hook
Your kiss is delicious.
Your eyelashes painted with collyrium
Is something to stare at, they are so awesome!
Your long black hair is like Jamuna River
It smells sweet so I want to be its diver!
Your smile is like new moon of spring
If you love me let’s dance and sing!
poem by Asif Andalib
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Just As Delicious Tomorrow
This is going to be just as delicious tomorrow,
As it is right now,
Today.
Taste buds remain favored to basic flavors.
Like a kiss from a good kisser is always missed.
It can be substituted in a solution that delutes.
But the real thing is reminisced.
This is going to be just as delicious tomorrow,
As it is right now,
Today.
When I whip up something to treat,
Your satisfaction I wish to guarantee.
And if it does not deliver what I expect you should accept...
I am the one who weeps the tears.
That's how much I want you,
To enjoy what I do!
This is going to be just as delicious tomorrow,
As it is right now,
Today.
That's how much I want you,
To enjoy what I do!
Now.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Troilus And Cressida
Can life be a blessing,
Or worth the possessing,
Can life be a blessing if love were away?
Ah no! though our love all night keep us waking,
And though he torment us with cares all the day,
Yet he sweetens, he sweetens our pains in the taking,
There's an hour at the last, there's an hour to repay.
In ev'ry possessing,
The ravishing blessing,
In ev'ry possessing the fruit of our pain,
Poor lovers forget long ages of anguish,
Whate'er they have suffer'd and done to obtain;
'Tis a pleasure, a pleasure to sigh and to languish,
When we hope, when we hope to be happy again.
poem by John Dryden
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Can life be a blessing
Can life be a blessing,
Or worth the possessing,
Can life be a blessing if love were away?
Ah no! though our love all night keep us waking,
And though he torment us with cares all the day,
Yet he sweetens, he sweetens our pains in the taking,
There's an hour at the last, there's an hour to repay.
In ev'ry possessing,
The ravishing blessing,
In ev'ry possessing the fruit of our pain,
Poor lovers forget long ages of anguish,
Whate'er they have suffer'd and done to obtain;
'Tis a pleasure, a pleasure to sigh and to languish,
When we hope, when we hope to be happy again.
poem by John Dryden
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I would not paint—a picture
505
I would not paint—a picture—
I'd rather be the One
Its bright impossibility
To dwell—delicious—on—
And wonder how the fingers feel
Whose rare—celestial—stir—
Evokes so sweet a Torment—
Such sumptuous—Despair—
I would not talk, like Cornets—
I'd rather be the One
Raised softly to the Ceilings—
And out, and easy on—
Through Villages of Ether—
Myself endued Balloon
By but a lip of Metal—
The pier to my Pontoon—
Nor would I be a Poet—
It's finer—own the Ear—
Enamored—impotent—content—
The License to revere,
A privilege so awful
What would the Dower be,
Had I the Art to stun myself
With Bolts of Melody!
poem by Emily Dickinson
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The extreme pleasure
Pleasure of luxuries,
Pleasure of victories
Or pleasure of any other kinds
Cannot stand against
The pleasure of conquest of woman,
For all potential men.
29.04.2007
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In a Herber Green Asleep Whereas I Lay
In a herber green asleep whereas I lay,
The birds sang sweet in the middle of the day;
I dreamed fast of mirth and play:
In youth is pleasure, in youth is pleasure.
Methought I walked still to and fro,
And from her company I could not go;
But when I wak'd it was not so:
In youth is pleasure, in youth is pleasure.
Therefore my heart is surely pight
Of her alone to have a sight,
Which is my joy and heart's delight:
In youth is pleasure, in youth is pleasure.
poem by Robert Wever
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Balenciaga did the most delicious evening clothes. Clothes aren't delicious any more.
quote by Diana Vreeland
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ch 08 On Rules For Conduct In Life - Maxim 53
Although a sultan’s garment of honour is dear yet one’s own old robe is more dear; and though the food of a great man may be delicious, the broken crumbs of one’s own sack are more delicious.
Vinegar by one’s own labour and vegetables
Are better than bread received as alms, and veal.
Of all tyrannies a tyranny exercised for the good of its victims may be the most oppressive. It may be better to live under robber barons than under omnipotent moral busybodies. The robber baron's cruelty may sometimes sleep, his cupidity may at some point be satiated but those who torment us for our own good will torment us without end for they do so with the approval of their own conscience.
quote by C.S. Lewis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Truth
Does he feel the weight press against him?
The weight of cold pressing truth.
Does it force the guilt from his pores like oil?
No..she sees it is light as a bubble....
Truth lifting its way out of him
With a merry grin and promises of eternal friendship.
Oh..the divine freedoms of nothing more!
Alas, loves confusion is her bed of nails,
And, it seems she is tucked down tight.
Her too high pillow is stuffed full of whispered wishes,
And wet with a river of tears.
Oh what delicious torment
To be started through happenstance!
What does it matter if purity of intention,
Holds her from freedom of heart
If both leave her lonely?
...
© 2012
poem by Ruby Honeytip
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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