Autumn Fayre
at the Arts and Crafts Fayre
one stall stripped bare
had nothing on at all
across the hall from the refreshments room
it could be seen
inbetween the hanging- quilts and raffia mats
and there he sat
tea-cup rattling on plate
an octodegenerate
eyes fixed on those long smooth legs
he lingered at the dregs
then from his pursed lips
the semblance of a sigh
there was that taste now bitter-sweet
and he can't remember why
poem by STEPHEN BRIAN Brady
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Related quotes
(Love Poem) Bitter Sweet Rose
Bitter sweet rose will you be mine?
Or am I wasting my time?
Bitter sweet rose you smell divine.
Do you have a succulent kiss?
Is it something I've already missed?
Bitter sweet rose what gives?
Is it how we must live?
Bitter sweet rose will you answer my questions?
Are you devote?
Do you stray when your bored?
Will you doubt?
Is what you want something more?
Bitter sweet rose are you keeping score?
Will you try something new?
Will you lock your door?
Do your lips taste like dew?
Bitter sweet rose do you want to go?
Do you love the snow?
Is this right?
Is this what you want tonight?
Bitter sweet rose, oh my bitter rose.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Kisses
You've kissed a hundred girls by now
and never found the one
whose kisses taste like cherry wine
and warm you like the sun.
But when it is you touch my lips
and brush them soft and sweet,
You'll lay your life before me
and feel like you're complete.
For I, my love have saved my lips,
saved them just for you.
And now that you have felt them
there's nothing you can do.
You can't go back to other's lips.
They would not feel the same.
The bitter taste they'd leave you with
would have you then exclaim.
'I need your lips. I long for them
and how they make me feel.'
So when you place your lips on mine
you'll know our love is real.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Bitter Tears
In the mist
Of my endless search
The best in life
Becomes clear
The rest just begins
To fade by itself
Thats a trick I learnt
Though it took so long
Bitter tears taste so sweet
Chorus
Im seeing my way
For the first time in years
When the love around
Begins to suffer
And you cant find love
In one
In one another
Push away those bitter tears
Bitter tears
And I thought I was doing no wrong
And I thought I was doing no wrong
In the hour of your needs
Lips are trembling
Cause youre gonna be free
Realise what were doing here
The time is right to kill your fears
Bitter tears taste so sweet
Chorus
And I thought I was doing no wrong
Push away those bitter tears
Push away those bitter tears
Push away those bitter tears
Push away those bitter tears
Thats what they call doing no wrong
Thats what they call doing no wrong
Push away those bitter tears
Push away those bitter tears
Push away those bitter tears
Thats what they call doing no wrong
song performed by by INXS
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Forgot
Hey, it’s been so long since I have seen you.
I had to think awhile just to remember you.
I forgot the brightness in your smile.
I forgot gleam that shines in your eyes.
I forgot the soft sweet taste of your lips.
I forgot the way you used to make me move my hips.
But wait minute before you try to ease in my arms.
Because I do remember why we did part.
I remember the harsh names that you used to call me.
I remember the hurt you used to cause me.
I remember the last time we were together and you
nearly choked me to death. So you can keep
on walking cause the abuse I remember.
Don’t you even think that I forgot?
I Am Clumsy When I Love
I am not smooth and fine
Like other girls
With floating steps
Bitten lips and perfect curls
I am clumsy when I love
My words spatter you with the wrong thing
Or my lips crash into each other in a full on stammer
Or my legs find places to wobble and gravity again is king
Those other girls walk up to you
With words whispery and rehearsed
And you catch me rolling my eyes over here
Hand on my hip-lips pursed
Others protect a cloud full of feelings
Secrets well hidden and never seen
While you just have to look at my flushed cheeks
For I neglected to give my thoughts better security
Sweaty palms, shaking hands, babbled speech
Just a few of my afflictions
Why should you choose this stuttering fool
Over a polished woman with more conviction
But for some reason on that night
You walked right over to my concern and surprise
And you ignored all of my imperfections
And you let me talk to you with my eyes
poem by Aria Siren
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The Pink Room
When you get to the pink room
do not forget to leave her
a rose.
I want her to know
we have remembered the pink room,
I want her to remember me.
I dreamt of the pink room last
night, of a time when it kept me safe,
a time when it kept her safe.
The pink room is hidden from view
now, has been stripped bare of the
lilac, the silver - someone
I will never know has carelessly
splashed blue paint over my memories.
If you should go to the pink room,
you know you will see me there.
I never could leave the pink room -
remember to leave me a rose.
poem by Morney Wilson
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Bitter Sweet
(d. pickerill/p. odonoughue)
Bitter sweet
Bitter sweet
I never thought Id understand
Never thought I could
The way I feel about you
And how much I need your love
How much I need your love
Bitter sweet
If I analysed each feeling
And captured every thought
Id not be any nearer
To the beating of your heart
The beating of your heart
Bridge:
Its neither pain nor pleasure
Ice cold or tropic heat
Your love is hard to measure
But its taste, mmm, its taste
Is bitter sweet
Bitter sweet
Bitter sweet
Now as I think about you
And the way you make me feel
You hurt me and I doubt you
You smile and my heart heals
Smile and my heart heals
Bridge
Bitter sweet (x5)
Bridge (x2)
Bitter sweet (x7)
song performed by by Lisa Stansfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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No Deserving 'Yummy' Or a Trace of Yum-Yum Laced
I will be very brief with this.
There is no 'yum'
That comes...
Without a taste for it!
And no deserving 'yummy'.
Or a trace of yum-yum laced.
If my tongue is not satisfied...
The expression in my eyes,
Will not lie.
And remember...
We did just say grace.
And I do appreciate,
Whatever this is you put on my plate!
However...
If my lips are not split,
To bare teeth not gritting.
I am either seeking to spit!
Or trying to find the words...
To encourage another visit.
But let me help you next time.
I'll do the cooking...
While you prepare the cheese and wine.
Basically I like you!
But not everything done you do!
What is it you are calling this?
'Love at Less The Task'
I see.
And if I should suggest 'Aftermath'...
Will you speak to me again?
It's not a total disaster.
We still have lots of wine!
Honey?
You did turn on the oven,
Right?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Late Walk
When I go up through the mowing field,
The headless aftermath,
Smooth-laid like thatch with the heavy dew,
Half closes the garden path.
And when I come to the garden ground,
The whir of sober birds
Up from the tangle of withered weeds
Is sadder than any words
A tree beside the wall stands bare,
But a leaf that lingered brown,
Disturbed, I doubt not, by my thought,
Comes softly rattling down.
I end not far from my going forth
By picking the faded blue
Of the last remaining aster flower
To carry again to you.
poem by Robert Frost
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Now is The Winter With Trees Stripped Naked
Now is the winter with trees naked
when there is cold and sifting rain,
stripped bare without leaves
and then you first come past and then to me
like a sun rising over the horizon
with a yellow raincoat, your pants splashed wet, laughing and glad
and your company is full of fun
in bands of gathering fog.
Now is the winter with trees naked
cutting off every ray and light
and I know our time is only borrowed,
like a sun rising over the horizon
but stopping the rays in this winter,
in a cold world without hope or pity,
stripped bare without leaves
where you shake out your hair like a dog does with rain,
whereupon I take the clips from your hair
and I know our time is only borrowed
but your are glorious like a poster
and for long moments time is missing.
Now is the winter with trees naked
with bliss descending between us
and you are only mine, with soft lips and big eyes
whereupon I take the clips from your hair
and I see your beauty
our passion goes to practical reality,
stripped bare without leaves
we shine like the world outside in vulnerability like rainbows,
where passion sweeps us away from uncovering
and you are only mine, with soft lips and big eyes
pretty, pure and untouched
in moments of ecstasy without fatigue.
Now is the winter with trees naked
stripped bare without leaves
and I am totally lost in you.
and then you first come past and then to me,
where passion sweeps us away from uncovering
with a yellow raincoat, your pants splashed wet, laughing and glad.
poem by Gert Strydom
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The door to Yesterday
I walked this campus in my youth,
forty years ago today.
The air is sweet from recent rain
here on the quad lawn where we played.
It's changed, of course,
that building is new.
Jefferson Hall is next, they say.
I graduated here in May.
I need not give the year away
I 'll only say it was a time,
like now, of great uncertainty.
I remember you like yesterday,
Your eyes a deep cerulean blue.
Your long and flowing auburn hair.
Those bee stung lips so sweet and true.
On impulse, just then
I tried the door.
Surprised I was when it gave way
I entered in the Bursars room
and heard your voice just down the hall.
For sure, twas you.
I'd know that voice
if all the world should pass away
I made my way towards your voice
anticipating ecstasy.
A joyful union there awaits
to hold you once more in my arms
life beyond death to be united
with you so many years since gone.
I entered then into the room
in hopes that she I loved was there.
This was the place where we first met
a place where, sadly, none appeared.
A wistful smile, a final glance
from your poor poet of Romance.
too much a dreamer, most would say,
as I closed the door to yesterday
poem by John F. McCullagh
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Buttered Peas With Crushed Red Pepper
Don't take the peas up off my plate.
That irritates.
Don't even think about sneaking them.
They are there for me to eat.
And I want every pea,
Left for me to satiate.
I buttered them to taste.
With baby onions they taste great.
Fix your eyes in another place.
Back your nose up off my plate.
Buttered peas with crushed red pepper.
Fix your eyes in another place.
No other buttered bean or pea taste better.
Take your eyes up off my plate.
I buttered them to taste.
With baby onions they taste great.
Buttered peas with crushed red pepper.
Take your eyes up off my plate.
And don't your think about sneaking a pea!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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A late walk
i walk through the lane again
now all tarred, laterite
the gravel all gone
pieces of my life
all the days of the years
the stones too
they hit the soft spots
under the feet
aching the heart
the lengthy lane
now so short for the legs
once so short
childhood friends, neighbours
they flew back, stared, walked
laughed from all angles
back and fore of my eyes
the heart leapt to yesteryears
inspired by
A Late Walk
When I go up through the mowing field,
The headless aftermath,
Smooth-laid like thatch with the heavy dew,
Half closes the garden path.
And when I come to the garden ground,
The whir of sober birds
Up from the tangle of withered weeds
Is sadder than any words
A tree beside the wall stands bare,
But a leaf that lingered brown,
Disturbed, I doubt not, by my thought,
Comes softly rattling down.
I end not far from my going forth
By picking the faded blue
Of the last remaining aster flower
To carry again to you.
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Burning
It all tastes like funeral ash to me;
exquisite feast set out in banquet hall.
Tonguing down the bile, a bitter dark sea,
A casket'ed table for bearers pall.
It was a long time coming, we sigh sips.
Now we gather 'round plates of dust
Scooping the dry mulch between our lips,
as our gray eyes flicker off the rust.
From a distance the feast looked amazing,
Staring through the cherry-stained estate glass.
And we rammed against hall doors, complaining
of the plundered spectral treasure amassed.
So we say Grace at the table of ash.
Our stolen jewels worn like funeral sash.
poem by Aurin Squire
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dead Man Walking
dead man walking,
fisted hands in empty pockets.
eyes that never look up
and feet that just know the way.
small children running in a graveyard
chasing shadows, silent and grey.
an old burnt out house still smolders,
bare limbs grasping at the sky.
and love is an old bucket,
rusted, leaking on the ground.
that calls your name and
draws your face
in a room that no one enters.
there's only today and now;
yesterday lied, tomorrow died.
the taste on my lips cold and bitter
as arsenic on a rose petal.
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Catullus and His Lesbia
Sweet Lesbia, hold me in your arms,
give me kisses without ceasing.
Your husband fights in Caesar's cause
and is no challenge in deceiving.
Your smooth white shoulders, beautiful,
that never see the Sun.
They are a feast for this poets' eyes
when your stola comes undone.
Beneath your tunica intima
are sweet breasts that fed your child.
I hope you'll bare them to my lips
in just a little while.
The shadows of the autumn Sun
creep clear across the room.
but Lesbia's sweet smile is enough
to brighten up the gloom.
Great Pompey has been put to rout,
Caesar claims the curule chair.
Outside the World has gone to Hades
Not that this poet cares.
For Lesbia is world enough
to treasure and explore.
If more were of my frame of mind
what need had men for war?
poem by John F. McCullagh
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My Dreams, My Works, Must Wait Till After Hell
I hold my honey and I store my bread
In little jars and cabinets of my will.
I label clearly, and each latch and lid
I bid, Be firm till I return from hell.
I am very hungry. I am incomplete.
And none can give me any word but Wait,
The puny light. I keep my eyes pointed in;
Hoping that, when the devil days of my hurt
Drag out to their last dregs and I resume
On such legs as are left me, in such heart
As I can manage, remember to go home,
My taste will not have turned insensitive
To honey and bread old purity could love.
poem by Gwendolyn Brooks
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Sonnet LXXIX
MEn call you fayre, and you doe credit it,
For that your selfe ye dayly such doe see:
but the trew fayre, that is the gentle wit,
and vertuous mind is much more praysd of me.
For all the rest, how euer fayre it be,
shall turne to nought and loose that glorious hew:
but onely that is permanent and free
from frayle corruption, that doth flesh ensew.
That is true beautie: that doth argue you
to be diuine and borne of heauenly seed:
deriu'd from that fayre Spirit, from whom al true
and perfect beauty did at first proceed.
He only fayre, and what he fayre hath made,
all other fayre lyke flowres vntymely fade.
poem by Edmund Spenser
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A Case Of You
A case of you
Just before our love got lost you said
I am as constant as a northern star
And I said, constant in the darkness
Wheres that at?
If you want me Ill be in the bar
On the back of a cartoon coaster
In the blue tv screen light
I drew a map of canada
Oh canada
And your face sketched on it twice
Oh you are in my blood like holy wine
Oh and you taste so bitter but you taste so sweet
Oh I could drink a case of you
I could drink a case of you darling
And I would still be on my feet
Oh Id still be on my feet
Oh I am a lonely painter
I live in a box of paints
Im frightened by the devil
And Im drawn to those ones that aint afraid
I remember that time that you told me, you said
Love is touching souls
Surely you touched mine
Cause part of you pours out of me
In these lines from time to time
Oh you are in my blood like holy wine
And you taste so bitter but you taste so sweet
Oh I could drink a case of you
I could drink a case of you darling
Still Id be on my feet
And still be on my feet
I met a woman
She had a mouth like yours
She knew your life
She knew your devils and your deeds
And she said
Color go to him, stay with him if you can
Oh but be prepared to bleed
Oh but you are in my blood youre my holy wine
Oh and you taste so bitter, bitter and so sweet
Oh I could drink a case of you darling
Still Id be on my feet
Id still be on my feet
Mmmmmmm
song performed by by Joni Mitchell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The fruits on the table
I love the papayas
Spread on the table
Reddish orange papayas
Plump and Smooth to my
Hands
And some purple grapes
Sweet pulp
Luscious to my
Lips
Some rambutans
Hairy fruits in red
Tickling to my
Fingers
Pungent durian
Tasting like
Heaven to
My mind
They are all spread on
The table
And I would caress smooth
Reddish papayas with
My bare hands
Put a grape in my mouth
And my tongue
Does the savoring of
Juicy rambutans
My lips close in
To a juicy roundness
As I breathe on some
Red hairs
Of this magical luscious fruit
The durian is opened
And the taste of heaven
Comes to my mind
With eyes closed as
Though I own all the passions
Of this world
When we were young and
Crazy about ourselves
I laid her on the table
And spread herself there
She was all those kinds of
Fruits to me and I was the
Hands, the mouth, the lips,
The tongue
The stomach that swallowed her all
Every bit that was juicy
Every freshness every plumpness
She was all fruits to me
She was all nature giving in, all over
To the passions of this fruit lover.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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