The Bitter Herb
O bitter herb, Forgetfulness,
I search for you in vain;
You are the only growing thing
Can take away my pain.
When I was young, this bitter herb
Grew wild on every hill;
I should have plucked a store of it,
And kept it by me still.
I hunt through all the meadows
Where once I wandered free,
But the rare herb, Forgetfulness,
It hides away from me.
O bitter herb, Forgetfulness,
Where is your drowsy breath?
Oh, can it be your seed has blown
Far as the Vales of Death?
poem by Jeanne Robert Foster
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Smokin The Herb Again
Yo yo yo, yo, yo yo what
Smoking
Were smoking, were smoking the herb again
Were smoking, were smoking, were smoking the herb again
Were smoking, were smoking, were smoking the herb again
Were smoking, were smoking, were smoking the herb again
Damn, I really wish I could find my sack man
Must have got eaten by pac-man
If I had it I could smoke again
Smoke with my friends to the very end
But now Im trying to comprehend
Whens the next time that Ill smoke again
I need to know, please tell when will we smoke again
I got a buddy, his name is ted
Hes got a problem going through his head
He doesnt know how to puff puff give
But I like so Ill teach him and Ill let him live
Everyday we teach him right
When he divides, we have to fight
But at the end of the trying day
We says its ok and we puff away
Just the other night, I saw you, you were smokin not sharing and being tight
But thats ok, you are my friend, well smoking until the very end
The lessons that we put out, we order you to try it out
Its nice to smoke, yea thats what were all about
Smoking
Were smoking, were smoking the herb again
Were smoking, were smoking, were smoking the herb again
Were smoking, were smoking, were smoking the herb again
Were smoking, were smoking, were smoking the herb again
Hey, ho, hey ho, hey, ho, hey, ho, hey, ho, hey, ho
I smoke, you smoke, we smoke, they smoke, smoking everywhere
I smoke, you smoke, we smoke, they smoke, smoking all together
Smoking
Were smoking, were smoking the herb again
Were smoking, were smoking, were smoking the herb again
Were smoking, were smoking, were smoking the herb again
Were smoking, were smoking, were smoking the herb again
song performed by by Incubus
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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On George Herbert's Poems
WHAT are these leaves dark-spotted and acerb?
'A very holy herb.'
To what good use may I this herb convert?
'Press it on thy soul's hurt.'
When herb unto the hurt I thus apply?
'Herb-ert is sanctity.'
poem by James Thomson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Whos Got The Herb?
Whos got the herb
2 for 1, 5 for 4, half ounces
Quarter pounds, lbs and kilos
What are we looking for
Sinsemilla
What are we hoping for
What are we hoping for
Sinsemilla
Whos got the herb is what the young boys ask me
Whos got the herb and then elders tell me
Whos got the herb is what the young girls ask me
Whos got the herb not thee dread-locks
Skunk, bud, indica
Sativa, my reefer, la arriba
Skunk, bud, indica
Sativa, my reefer, la arriba
When we roll a big one
It feels so right
When we smoke it in our bong
It feels so nice
Whos got the herb is what the young boys ask me
Whos got the herb and then the elders tell me
Whos got the herb is what the young girls ask me
Whos get the herb not thee dread-locks
Whos got the herb
Whos got the herb
Whos got the herb
Whos got the herb what Im talkin bout
Cramacaca cayaca die shocka fryaca
From a coppa yes Im tellin you
Cramacaca cayaca die shocka fryaca
From a coppa
What are we looking for
Sinsemilla
What are we hoping for
Sinsemilla
Here we go!
Skunk, bud, indica
Sativa, my reefer, my reefer
Whos got it whos got the herb
Whos got it whos got the herb
311 whoa whos got the herb
311s got the herb and you cant avoid that
And ya do want your hands with a fat blunt sack
Chill with indica and guiness, steer clear of white powder
Kick it you sing it in a space, go out to play it louder
Plague my brain with no cocaine
I dont wanna, I dont wanna go insane
Roll up the bones if you can affix a word to smoke it
Except for youre doomed in the morning if you bake the hills
Oh and I get up to the sun and then I smoke out
Its begining to smell like mota and Im down with no doubt, sing
Plague my brain with no cocaine
I dont wanna, I dont wanna go insane
If you want to harm the
World then you can stop the
Herb and you can use the
Serve and use the warrant.
song performed by by 311
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Soma
Is is a bitter pill to swallow
But what is life but a bitter pill?
Then a feeling follows
That stuffs the Vedic gods to their gills.
Did it come from India or Persia,
Or only a lab in New Jersey?
Depending on your version
And what reaction it brings:
Skeleto-muscular relaxation
Lack of pain and spasms,
Flat-out beating an orgasm.
And the myth of soma is a truth-
No secret herb or root,
Just this bitter pill after all,
Indeed only a pharmaceutical.
poem by Stan Petrovich
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Old Man
Old Man, or Lads-Love, - in the name there's nothing
To one that knows not Lads-Love, or Old Man,
The hoar green feathery herb, almost a tree,
Growing with rosemary and lavender.
Even to one that knows it well, the names
Half decorate, half perplex, the thing it is:
At least, what that is clings not to the names
In spite of time. And yet I like the names.
The herb itself I like not, but for certain
I love it, as someday the child will love it
Who plucks a feather from the door-side bush
Whenever she goes in or out of the house.
Often she waits there, snipping the tips and shrivelling
The shreds at last on to the path,
Thinking perhaps of nothing, till she sniffs
Her fingers and runs off. The bush is still
But half as tall as she, 'though it is as old;
So well she clips it. Not a word she says;
And I ca only wonder how much hereafter
She will remember, with that bitter scent,
Of garden rows, and ancient damson trees
Topping a hedge, a bent path to a door
A low thick bush beside the door, and me
Forbidding her to pick.
As for myself,
Where first I met the bitter scent is lost.
I, too, often shrivel the grey shreds,
Sniff them and think and sniff again and try
Once more to think what it is I am remembering,
Always in vain. I cannot like the scent,
Yet I would rather give up others more sweet,
With no meaning, than this bitter one.
I have mislaid the key. I sniff the spray
And think of nothing; I see and I hear nothing;
Yet seem, too, to be listening, lying in wait
For what I should, yet never can, remember;
No garden appears, no path, no hoar-green bush
Of Lad's-love, or Old Man, no child beside,
Neither father nor mother, nor any playmate;
Only an avenue, dark, nameless, without end
poem by Edward Thomas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Forgetfulness
Forgetfulness is like a song
That, freed from beat and measure, wanders.
Forgetfulness is like a bird whose wings are reconciled,
Outspread and motionless, --
A bird that coasts the wind unwearyingly.
Forgetfulness is rain at night,
Or an old house in a forest, -- or a child.
Forgetfulness is white, -- white as a blasted tree,
And it may stun the sybil into prophecy,
Or bury the Gods.
I can remember much forgetfulness.
poem by Hart Crane
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Forgetfulness
Forgetfulness is like a song
That, freed from beat and measure, wanders.
Forgetfulness is like a bird whose wings are reconciled,
Outspread and motionless, --
A bird that coasts the wind unwearyingly.
Forgetfulness is rain at night,
Or an old house in a forest, -- or a child.
Forgetfulness is white, -- white as a blasted tree,
And it may stun the sybil into prophecy,
Or bury the Gods.
I can remember much forgetfulness.
poem by Harold Hart Crane
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Nice Herb
It was a very nive herb so,
I tasted it to satisfy my mind;
And i am now free with the muse of my mind.
A nice herb,
In Copenhagan with the stone ladies!
But this muse of love was like a shrouded mystery to touch,
Because of their nakedness last night!
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Early Morning Verse
Peace I leave with you;
my peace I give to you.
(as i read these lines
i am chewing my new medicine
a black herb so bitter to my tongue
to be swallowed when finally
liquefied)
do you know the sickness of the mind
of the poet out there? Just like you
he is looking for the cure, the madness
to be well again.
it is not the score of the hour
it is the easing of the pain.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Doobie Ashtray
[Chorus]
What you gonna do when the people go home
And you wanna smoke weed but the reefer's all gone
And somebody had the nerve to take the herb up out the doobie ashtray
Why they do me that way
What you gonna do when ya friends go home
And you wanna take a pill but ya end's all gone
Somebody had the nerve to take the herb up out my doobie ashtray
Why they do me that way
You probably don't have a big ol house on the hill
But if you did just imagine how it would feel
If your phone got disconnected
song performed by by Devin The Dude from Just Tryin' Ta Live
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Like the herb plucked on Sunday, it does neither good nor ill.
Scottish Gaelic proverbs
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Before I Write These Lines
before i write these lines
it will take me perhaps
perchance
ten years more
to realize that the words
are worthy to be
written
the pain finally soothing
when we finally
said goodbye
when we realize
that goodbyes seasoned
by the spices of time
that after all the bitter herb
too gives
a nice taste to the buds
so that when we meet again
we smile
we remember those tears
we thought salty
now, we say though silently
how funny
how misplaced sentimentally
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Lesson of Grief
Not ere the bitter herb we taste,
Which ages thought of happy times,
To plant us in a weeping waste,
Rings with our fellows this one heart
Accordant chimes.
When I had shed my glad year's leaf,
I did believe I stood alone,
Till that great company of Grief
Taught me to know this craving heart
For not my own.
poem by George Meredith
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I have never seen such extreme partisanship, such bitter partisanship, and such forgetfulness of the fate of our fathers and of the Constitution.
quote by Robert Byrd
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There is an herb for every kind of sickness but not for death.
The only thing wrong with immortality is that it tends to go on forever.
There grows not the herb, which can protect against the power of death.
For me, the most important thing I learned was just honing my eye. I think I had a good eye.
quote by Herb Ritts
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The trouble with born-again Christians is that they are an even bigger pain the second time around.