From the very fountain of enchantment there arises a taste of bitterness to spread anguish amongst the flowers.
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In the midst of the fountain of wit there arises something bitter, which stings in the very flowers.
Enchantment of Summer
There is an enchantment that comes with Summer,
An enchantment that fills the heart,
And it is displayed in every garden
Of villages, towns, and hamlets miles apart.
There is an enchantment that comes with Summer,
With luster of flowers and the green foliage of trees,
In the chirrup of the robin and whistle of the quail,
And colorful butterflies and swarming honeybees.
There is an enchantment that comes with Summer,
An enchantment for all ages - old and young,
For it seems that people are happier and cheerful
When the intermittent songs of birds are sung.
There is an enchantment that comes with Summer,
When life is like a story - neither sob nor sigh,
The music of the laughing lip - the luster of the eye,
The glad belief in everything as Summer goes by.
poem by Joseph T. Renaldi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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From the heart of the fountain of delight rises a jet of bitterness that tortures us among the very flowers.
To John Forbes, Esq.
ON HIS BRINGING ME FLOWERS FROM VAUCLUSE, AND
WHICH HE HAD PRESERVED BY MEANS OF
AN INGENIOUS PROCESS IN THEIR
ORIGINAL BEAUTY.
SWEET spoils of consecrated bowers,
How dear to me these chosen flowers!
I love the simplest bud that blows,
I love the meanest weed that grows:
Symbols of nature--every form
That speaks of her this heart can warm;
But ye, delicious flowers, assume
In fancy's eye a brighter bloom;
A dearer pleasure ye diffuse,
Cull'd by the fountain of Vaucluse!
For ye were nurtur'd on the sod
Where PETRARCH mourn'd, and LAURA trod;
Ye grew on that inspiring ground
Where love has shed enchantment round;
Where still the tear of passion flows,
Fond tribute to a poet's woes!
Yet, cherish'd flowers, with love and fame
This wreath entwines a milder name;
Friendship, who better knows than they
The spells that smooth our length'ning way,--
Friendship the blooming off'ring brought;
When FORBES the classic fountain sought,
For me he cull'd the fresh-blown flowers,
And fix'd their hues with potent powers;
Their pliant forms with skilful care
He seized, and stamp'd duration there;
His gift shall ever glad the eye,--
Nor, like my verse is born to die.
poem by Helen Maria Williams
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A Bitter Word
I taste bitterness in my mouth
each time I hear the word war.
It's a taste that's born of compassion
from a word that's been heard before.
Too young they die
not knowing why.
Too young they leave
and as we grieve
I hear that word again.
I spit from the bitter taste of it
and it still won't go away.
It's the same old word that drives me mad
and reminds me every day
that man is pliable in the hands
of ones whose insatiable need
never tastes bitterness in their mouth
from the word or from the deed.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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You And The Flower
you will have a hard time seeing
the pain
of the flowers in the xylem
for
you are always
preoccupied savoring
the pleasures
of your senses to the
majesty of its
petals
the flowers have this
message
for
you
better not taste the bitter
fluids
running within its
system
you take pleasure
and the flower understands this
you too
have all the bitterness
within you
which the flower
has read
in the labyrinths of
your genes
for
it was here before you
come and
then begin to
smell
the scent of its
temporariness
its
secret you
shall not
fathom
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Taste
it is a matter of taste
years of bitterness
cannot teach you
in a day what sweetness is
years of searching
cannot give you an hour
of a solution to the problems
you are grappling with
you mellow down through the years
what tastes so sweet to them
in your discriminating expertise
is never sweet to you
you keep a glass of your favorite concoction
the one that makes you live
she takes the courage of taking a sip
her face changes and she vomits
what makes you live is always
the exquisite taste of bitterness
the one that strengthens your mind
and that makes a lot of difference
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Hoodwinked To Be Used
Divisions and indecisions,
Blatant and admitted.
Does not heal with a mending wished,
By those who claim they represent...
The best reflection of a people's interests.
Aging routines used to demean and defeat,
Only leaves a taste of bitterness...
With a craving for more it,
Obviously seen.
And that which cracks and falls apart,
Has proven to be cost effective...
For those making their quick dashes,
With hopes to lay the blame on those...
To exit fast from trash they've left exposed.
Aging routines used to demean and defeat,
Only leaves a taste of bitterness...
With a craving for more it,
Obviously seen...
On faces expected to clean up these scenes.
Unbelieving they've been hoodwinked to be used.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Lingering Tastes
He tasted the wine that was on her lips
when they last had kissed.
It was sweeter than if he drunk of it himself,
a taste he could not resist.
He remembered the taste and never could find
anything better than this.
Was it the wine he couldn't forget
or was it just the kiss?
He tasted the bitterness on her lips
when they last had fought.
It was sharper than the words she said to him,
words that did persist
in finding a way to keep him cold,
nothing worse than this.
Was it the words he would never forget
or was it just the kiss?
The wine, the words and even the kiss
became a source of pain.
He prayed that he'd remember her lips of wine
and that the bitterness would not remain.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Bitterness imprisons life; love releases it. Bitterness paralyzes life; love empowers it. Bitterness sours life; love sweetens it. Bitterness sickens life; love heals it. Bitterness blinds life; love anoints its eyes.
quote by Harry Emerson Fosdick
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Time has laid its healing hand upon the wound when we can look back at the the pain we once fainted under, and no bitterness or despair arises in our heart.
Jerome K. Jerome in Idle thought of an Idle Fellow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If Pains Be Flowers
if pains are flowers
of different sized and colors
and scents
and varieties
then if you only see me
the truth around me
i am filled with flowers
all over my hair
all over my body
around my days and hours
so many flowers spread in bed
in the bathtub
on the floor.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Blocked Without You Stopping It
You witness your digressions,
And will not admit they actually exist.
You ask for outside protection...
For situations that continue to persist.
You gather sympathy from groups,
To loudly protest your despairing unrest!
And not admitting with an acknowledgement,
You put them there...
So what do you expect?
A magician dressed...
In outfits of holiness?
A dope smoking Pope,
To share with you false hope?
A candycane taste,
To erase a bitterness that aches?
Or stop all traffic,
For a freedom to declare...
Your overbearing heartbreak?
This one thing is very clear...
What has been allowed will not dsappear.
However that anguish got inside your head,
With your approving eyes observing...
Got stuck between your ears.
Got blocked without you stopping it.
And nothing you heard,
Even shouted from rooftops...
You 'still' refuse to hear!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Flowers
(orbison/dees)
When I was a boy I ran among the flowers
Looking left and right at the bright array
I played through the spring, whiled away the hours
Lingered with the flowers every day
Flowers, pretty flowers, flowers, lifes bouquet
Flowers, pretty flowers, flowers, along the way
Flowers, pretty flowers, flowers, lifes bouquet
Flowers, pretty flowers, flowers, along the way
When the summer ends and the storms of life are over
When the winter comes and the petals fall away
They may write it on my stone, he was just a roller
But he stopped to pick some flowers along the way
Flowers, pretty flowers, flowers, lifes bouquet
Flowers, picked some flowers, along the way
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Other Way Around?
you smell like war,
like gunpowder,
flesh searing screams.
i smell like grieving,
like ashes, and
dirt on the shovel.
you sound like hunger,
and homelessness,
and vomit stained lips.
i sound like the soup
that simmers, like the
blanket wrapped...
you taste like bitterness,
the lonliness of alone.
i taste like the hand that fits,
the shadow of the body near...
or am i wrong?
could it be the other way around?
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Fountain Of Love
(words & music by giant - lewis)
One thought of you,
My heart begins churning
I feel return
To a fountain of love
My lips and eyes,
They ache to be near you
To hold you here
In my fountain of love
Never be blue
Should your world start sinking
Just come and drink
From my fountain of love
Well build a new world off
On a high mountain
Well live
On our fountain of love
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sleeping on the Ceiling
It is so peaceful on the ceiling!
It is the Place de la Concorde.
The little crystal chandelier
is off, the fountain is in the dark.
Not a soul is in the park.
Below, where the wallpaper is peeling,
the Jardin des Plantes has locked its gates.
Those photographs are animals.
The mighty flowers and foliage rustle;
under the leaves the insects tunnel.
We must go under the wallpaper
to meet the insect-gladiator,
to battle with a net and trident,
and leave the fountain and the square
But oh, that we could sleep up there...
poem by Elizabeth Bishop
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Sweet And Bitter..
The taste of cakes, sweets and chocolate,
The sugar in them makes us to be happy and glad,
The feeling is great and contagious,
When the sweetness of something is around us,
The bitter taste of anything may make us to be sad,
As it does not tickle the tongue and the taste buds,
When the bitterness runs to the throat,
When the bad memories resurface to haunt,
The emotions get bitter and torture the soul,
The sweetness rekindles all good emotions,
And this is related with all good memories,
What makes the bitter to be bitterer,
And the sweet to be sweeter,
When it is felt by the heart and the mind?
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Fountain Of Filth
There it was
Just like old faithful
The eternal fountain of filthi
I took a walk straight out of town
But then I stopped and took my time for pleasure
I was alone, I looked around
I heard a voice 50 I buckled for safety
And there it was down on the ground
A pool of sound that showed my own reflection
In a fountain of filth
Eternal fountain of filth
I tried to run I couldnt move
Frozen solid while the thoughts of men
Attacked me
Out of my head the fountain shot
And drowned me in a serum that I couldnt
Put a stop to
It was me myself and I locked in a struggle
With the talking head below me
In a fountain of filth
Eternal fountain of filth
I got a hunger that makes me say things
I got a hunger that makes me do things
I got a hunger that makes me want things
Im just a victim of filth
Nowhere are we safe
From the power of
From the reach of
From the appeal of
The eternal fountain of filth
song performed by by Devo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Like A Fountain Of Water
Like a fountain of water
Kissing you throughout
You will like the latter
What it is all about.
Like a fountain of water
Flowing endlessly
Like a waterfall in a far away site
What is its whereabouts?
Like a fountain of water
I dream of you
Forever flowing in my mind
A hand touching my heart.
Like a fountain of water
Expunging the errs in my life
Waiting for fate to strike
It all changes my mind.
poem by Georgia Leana Benedictos
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