An Incantation
Come with me, and we will blow
Lots of bubbles, as we go;
Bubbles bright as ever Hope
Drew from fancy -- or from soap;
Bright as e'er the South Sea sent
from its frothy element!
Come with me, and we will blow
Lots of bubbles, as we go.
Mix the lather, Johnny W--lks,
Thou, who rhym'st so well to bilks;
Mix the lather - who can be
Fitter for such task than thee,
Great M.P. for Sudsbury!
For the frothy charm is ripe,
Puffing Peter bring thy pipe, --
Thou, whom ancient Coventry,
Once so dearly lov'd, that she
Knew not which to her was sweeter,
Peeping Tom or Puffing Peter; --
Puff the bubbles high in air,
Puff thy best to keep them there.
Bravo, bravo, Peter M--re!
Now the rainbow humbugs soar,
Glitt'ring all with golden hues,
Such as haunt the dreams of Jews; --
Some reflecting mines that lie
Under Chili's glowing sky,
Some, those virgin pearls that sleep
Cloister'd in the southern deep;
Others, as if lent a ray
Form the streaming Milky Way,
Glist'ning o'er with curds and whey
From the cows of Alderney.
Now's the moment -- who shall first
Catch the buble, ere they burst?
Run, ye Squires, ye Viscounts, run,
Br-gd-n, T-ynh-m, P-lm-t-n; --
John W--lks junior runs beside ye!
Take the good the knaves provide ye!
See, with upturn'd eyes and hands,
Where the Shareman, Bri-gd-n, stands,
Gaping for the froth to fall
Down his gullet - lye and all.
See!---But hark my time is out --
Now, like some great water-spout,
Scaterr'd by the cannon's thunder,
Burst, ye bubbles, burst asunder!
poem by Thomas Moore
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Related quotes
Children With Soap Bubbles
Like smoke the bubbles whirl up
in the wind’s frolicking game
hopping like horses that gallop
and other children have got to look out
or their eyes are going to burn.
Like smoke the bubbles whirl up
against the arms and heads of others
before they heave into the air,
hopping like horses that gallop
with children blowing over a soapy soup
soap-bubble after soap-bubble burst,
like smoke the bubbles whirl up
like balls kicked off by the wind
when mothers scold their dirty children,
hopping like horses that gallop
and later an adult looks after them
to set rules for the game,
like smoke the bubbles whirl up
hopping like horses that gallop.
poem by Gert Strydom
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You know how fighting fish do it? They blow bubbles and in each one of those bubbles is an egg and they float the egg up to the surface. They keep this whole heavy nest of eggs floating, and they're constantly repairing it. It's as if they live in both elements.
quote by Audre Lorde
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bubble Of Life Floats and Flies!
I am that bubble
On that infinite ocean,
I know I am eternal,
except that fills the bubble!
I am that infinite
One of infinite thoughts of the infinite!
Infinite filled breath into infinite bubbles,
I am one of these
Each day he transcends on Earth!
He is her great lover,
She is his fertile wife,
More fertile ones he has.
Everyday she becomes pregnant,
Everyday she breeds billion bubbles of billion species,
Some with brain and some without,
Some with hearts and some without,
But every bubble she breed, are with stomach,
hunger and thirst
Anger and lust
This was mechanical
Till they decided to breed which are their own copy,
With all capacity to understand parents,
Then that came the species of bubbles
Which can see back!
And more than understand,
This lovely child stared weeping on arrival,
Making others happy!
when bubble grew up,
Understood parents,
Sister bubbles
Brother bubbles
Dictating mother,
But not the father,
Mother is soft and caring,
Felt for children and fad them with the best,
When sons Grew, sometimes taller
Than Father,
Started to say I know mother,
I don't know, whether I have father,
Since father was hiding in everyone, who filled his own breath inside these bubbles,
He was helpless when ignorant bubble say there is no ocean,
When bubble learns,
All is his,
Understand what is what,
But for that bubble, jumping and dancing,
With that nuclear arms in his arms,
when adam had Eve in his arms,
Eve had serpent to seduce,
Man made parents stay apart!
the stay apart, still not divorced,
When the divorce, bubble bursts,
But bubble when tries,
To live, it may burst,
When it wants to burst it may live,
This is what we enjoy
And call as life
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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Painted Veil
Millions of bubbles; bubbles, bubbles, bubbles.
Who could have thought that so small
could be the curse of all,
and source of all our troubles?
Microscopic seeds
encasing nuclei of fire.
Each germinates and breeds
subtle filaments of desire.
Desire slides in and overpowers,
making our best intentions fail
and weaves the warp and weft of the painted veil
which shrouds this world which is not ours.
Lift it?
It proliferates with every minute.
See?
Our eyes are trapped within it.
The world?
The world's a vast, empty machine
which thunders on,
blunders on,
silent and unseen.
poem by Brian Taylor
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Sonnet-All Earthly Things Are Transient
However far, Science forges on ahead,
Whatever strides and giant leaps, Man makes;
All earthly things must become, one day dead,
A truth Men better learn for their own sakes.
However high, you may fly in the air,
However far, you go away from home;
Return you must to earth and earthenware!
Just burst bubbles all make the lather-foam.
Nothing is everlasting in this world;
All things here cease sometime after their birth;
Civilizations new must become old;
This is the destined law upon this earth.
And some day, Man must look into his soul!
The wiser man, resets, adjusts his goal.
poem by John Celes
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The Dream I Chased
I chased a dream and,
I kept in my slippery hand,
You shook it,
It fell on the sand.
The bubbles burst into color
I couldn't touch it though,
It gave birth to another dream.
I chased the broken bow!
Now I am a woman of alley,
I don't chase any dream'
I don't chase the bubbles anymore
My life became a Scream!
poem by Nilakshi Das
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The Bottle
I am a bottle, so shake
me up. Or don't shake
me up. Do whatever
you want; either way,
I'll like it. If you shou
ld shake me up, the
bubbles will start for
ming, slowly at first,
then coming up to po
p the place above my n
eck and I could burst. I co
uld blow up, explode, spill ever
ything inside, sputter out all the i
nward items I hide. Things safe w
ithin me. They could flow, flood
out till I'm empty then you can de
cide if you want to recycle me. Pr
obably not. Maybe. Oh, I hope so.
Think green. Think of a better wor
ld. A better one. For you. For me.
For all the children that we could h
ave in the future. However, if you d
on't shake me up, I sit here on the
shelf, waiting for the time come a
nd I like that too. The building anti
cipation that builds excitement for t
he bubbles that could build inside
me. There's something safe, som
ething more comfortable in fanta
sy, keeping things hidden for
no one else to see. Pick me
up, put me down, dropp me
falling to the ground, place me in your hands and shake me up in my imagination. There's a soft, stirring feeling in thinking of that.
poem by Tim Stensloff
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Soap
you wish i were true
to every word i wrote in my poems
like sadness
that i must be sad when my poems
talk about sadness
like separation and disgust and pain
that i must suffer
with the poems i write that i must have despair
and pain too
and disgust
for every word of disgust written in every word
in every line
how cruel of you
how cruel of truth
how can i justify my death when i speak only of death
and in the very poem
where i write the word
death
there is soap
there is this box of untruths in pandora and when i open it
they must spread and you may refuse to believe
me again
but it would be very cruel of you
to make these poems
all these poems be my life my only life
and lived
and day by day lived in accordance with the
mouths of these poems
empathy
is the word, it is like i am putting my feet in another person's
shoes
then i write, and i could have written about this word: happiness
joy, bliss
ecstasy, light, and amazing glory
i choose not to,
i think, i have too much of it, and i do not share it for now
there is no necessity
and i cannot really help
with so much loneliness and sadness out there
with them i stretch my hands to hold them and feel them
and they all become
myself. it is not soap then, and there are no bubbles in the skies
there is no child playing amazed by the bubbles that burst and by the
bubbles that
are so abundant.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Bubbles of Love
This poem was inspired while watching the MTV reality show A Shot at Love with Tila Tequila. take it or leave it, you can interprete it the way you want.
Miss Tequila I wish to confess
There is something odd I wish to express
One day I had one shot too many for a penny
As my eyes opened up to 'Bubbles of love'
Bubbles of love
Bubbles of love
This awesome beauty that you possess
Your tanned skin calls for a touch of caress
Bubbles of love
Bubbles of love
Your succulent lips demand a kiss of finesse
And lets not forget the sexy curves you possess
Bubbles of Love
Bubbles of Love
I will fight with words not fists and head butts
I can't help feeling all hot with no second thoughts
These feelings I wish sometimes to suppress
Because I play my life like a game of chess
I know youthful beauty fades as that is its trade
But yours merely radiates over man and hand-made
Miss Tequila I wish to confess
Sometimes I do things in a little excess
It is you I wish to undress in your nightdress
While your breasts pressed against my bareness
Rather than breaking loves no one code
By driving carelessly on slippery roads
For you I'll wear my heart on my sleeve
Kisses, romance, love, the whole lot we can achieve
I see only 'Bubbles of love'
Beyond your smile and sexy little curves
I see only 'Bubbles of love'
In you, a ravishing blessing from above
Miss Tequila I wish to confess
It is you I wish and want to process
One day I had one shot too many for a penny
And in you I saw my little American Princess
Copyright 2008 - Sylvia Chidi
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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A Little Mermaid (Fun Poem 81)
For Meggie who suggested I write this.
Deep in the oceans
where the little fishes play
there lives a little mermaid
and her name is Haveagayday.
She is not sure how she got her name,
but it is her name no less,
it might have been her mother
who helped a fisherman in distress.
One day Haveagayday was playing
with her friend a little merman named Gunga Din.
While they played Bubbles, a moaning Clam
came floating by on his way.
He stopped for a moan
that could never be alone.
He said he couldn’t find a soft spot of sand to bury himself in.
Now Haveagayday and Gunga Din suggested
he go to some sandy beach
where the blue waters lap gently to the shore.
There in the golden sand
he could be on his own all day long.
Bubbles blew some more bubbles
and quickly whooshed away
leaving the little mermaid and merman
to continue with their play.
Several days later while playing near that spot
they met up with the moaning clam,
old Bubbles again.
“You said it would be quiet
in that place in the sun,
that I would have all the peace and quite I wanted.
Well you were wrong
with all those noisy surfers
all trying to crack my shell.”
Haveagayday and Gunga Din thought
about what they could do.
Then Gunga Din remembered
about his Genie friend.
If his bottle were still on the beach,
his three wishes would help Bubbles
get his peace and quiet.
Haveagayday and Gunga Din swam off
to find the Genie in the bottle
if he was still on the beach.
They found the beach
where Gunga Din had put the bottle.
They searched along the beach
hoping the bottle hadn’t been found.
Finally, they found the bottle
and Gunga Din pulled the cork
and set the Genie free.
The Genie came out in a puff of smoke.
“I have three wishes to grant thee.”
“I know Mr Genie and I’ll have those wishes
for you to grant to me.”
“Tell me what your wishes are
and I will make them come true.”
“We have a friend named Bubbles
who wants a quiet beach to live.”
“Granted.” The Genie said.
“My second wish is that Bubbles
has a friendly mate f
or when the loneliness gets too much.”
The Genie smiled and clicked his fingers
and the wish was done.
“You have one more wish. Do you want it now? ”
“Oh, yes please.”
“I have a friend who is a Genie
whom would like to be free.
My third wish is then that you set my Genie free
for now and ever more.”
The Genie snapped his fingers.
“Your wish has been granted.”
He then looked at Gunga Din.
“You know you wasted that last wish.
You could have kept it for something your heart desired.”
“But I did Genie. My wish for your freedom
was my hearts desire.
That you be, free forever more.”
Haveagayday and Gunga Din got married
later on that year.
The Best man at their wedding
was the Genie whom he set free.
Also at the Wedding
were Bubbles and his bride to be Cuddles.
Now they all live happily together
Haveagayday, Gunga Din, Bubbles, Cuddles
and of course the Genie
under the deep blue sea.
24-25 June 2008
poem by David Harris
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Wonderful Bath Bubbles
Sitting in a bath tub, filled with bubbles
Soaking and erasing all my troubles
Staying in the water till your skin gets wrinkled
Spraying your hair you are getting sprinkled
The water so warm and so inviting
With candles lit, they're your only lighting
Such a pleasure I have found
Just me splashing, not another sound
So if you need a moment of paradise
Fill your bath with bubbles, I'd advise!
poem by Donna Nimmo
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Bubbles of stress
In the era of your foolishness
Springs to life bubbles of stress
These chains that bind you senseless
Grieve your mind, control and oppress
And round and round in circles
Spins your life out of control
You bury yourself deep in your soul
When just once you were more than whole
Bubbles of stress and distress
Negativity has to be suppressed
Bubbles of progress and success
Positivity, one has to address in excess
Copyright September 2008 - Sylvia Chidi
www.sylviachidi.com
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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Gripe Session
open up
burst, bubbles,
flood, and then
settling down
and then
the pond.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Mr. Pessimist
Time will swallow
Your precious time
Like magic create the future
What makes man so fickle ?
Who put the daggers in those eyes ?
Was it to learn
Through dark days of struggle ?
Was it to burn
To burst all our bubbles ?
Thunder and rain
Well the cynicle flame will it heat
song performed by by Tears For Fears from Elemental
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Selfish Fish
Once upon a time
a very small fish
started to change his dish
was envious of others
and did not feel fine.
The bigger fishes
creating big bubbles
and were honored
as respectful swimmers
and producing no trouble.
Instead of normal eat
the small fish now ate
the letters and words
of a newspaper found wet
in the sea of the state.
Now he also earns
lovely returns
of the bigger ones
creating big bubbles
and was heard with his words.
But due to the food
he got thinner
and blow up himself
with air
to be the winner.
Now he looks
like a blow-fish
but empty and thin
only the air and the
words were in.
The time has come
to select the best
the blubber of the year
a national
fish poetry test.
So astonished he was
chosen as the one
he got the best reputation
and honored by
the whole fish civilization.
For the next contest
he was invited
to speak in front
of all animals
united.
But therefore
he had to went on land
publishing his words
in books
which were sent.
The publishing house
give to understand
they will create
with him
a very new brand.
But just when he was
starting to bubble
at land his first big bubbles
he died
loosing all air and his trouble.
So the morality could be
watch and comment
the bubbles of the others to learn
and to earn respect and knowledge
and to stay proud and happily
as a fish in the sea.
(c) Floyd Floydson,08/22/2012
poem by Floyd Floydson
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Hold Hands and Blow Bubbles
Tomorrow I will wake to see you lying next to me and I will watch you sleep.
I will gently touch your face to wake you and cover you with kisses.
Tomorrow will be the first time we truly get to spend time alone together.
We can stay in bed as long as we want and watch the birds outside eat and play.
Tomorrow we will go for a walk in the park, hold hands and blow bubbles.
We will wash the car in the driveway and end up covered in soap and water.
Tomorrow you will hide the remote while I make your morning coffee.
We will make a dozen sack lunches and go down town and hand them out.
Tomorrow we will kiss every time one of us says ‘Um'.
We will have pie for lunch and skip dessert.
Tomorrow in the morning we will tell every person we meet what the current time is, in Afghanistan.
In the evening we will thank everyone we meet.
Tomorrow we will save water and take a bath together, with extra bubbles, planes and boats.
We will lie on a blanket and stare at the stars and tell one another stories.
Tomorrow night we will thumb wrestle to see who will be the outside spoon.
I will whisper in your ear, kiss your neck and caress you until you fall sleep.
Tomorrow night while you dream I will whisper all of my plans, desires and secrets to you while you sleep.
It be the first of the greatest days of our lives.
Today, I will search for you.
poem by Ronald Ragan
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New Garden
It has the harmony and similarities blooming in spirit
It is stronger than ever, not seen by the strangers
Dreams of long-awated patience initiated by peace and
truths
post-postmodernised by
informal education of survivor of the oppressed
ration of knowledge and wisdom is clearly built up through time
winner doesn't take all but there are no losers
only mediators of truth-scenario
Bravo! Bravo! Bravo! Bravo! Bravo! Bravo!
Bravo! Bravo!
Bravo! Bravo!
Bravo! Bravo!
Bravo! Bravo!
New Garden is born with the wing of change! Born with the wind of change!
Bravo! Bravo!
Bravo! Bravo!
Bravo! Bravo!
no one is trying to fly away
Bravo! Bravo!
Bravo! Bravo!
Bravo! Bravo!
Life-apart-world apart-road ApART
Who know?
The history of unexpected dawn.
RULE: BUT YOU MUST KEEP ON WATCHING MORALS AND
HUMANITY-INITIATED DIRECTIONS in the world of mis-directed illusions
Overwhelming the realities in the continuam of change
Bubbles
With a goal from the time they were born,
Something was pushing them ahead,
Crafted by man embellished by nature,
Up they go on their invisible thread.
They're something we see every day,
But don't understand the message they send.
Their tale is heroic even though these evanescent bubbles will come to an end.
Their strength and their life may not be up to the mark,
But they try to soar as high as they can and die with a spark,
They fought till the finish and never said no,
But there is always something to learn from their afterglow.
Life is not just meant for hypothetical dreams but also exploring the far-fetched.
So nurture your inquisitive mind to erase its tentativeness.
As one dropp of water can turn into a stream,
There is no greater courage than the courage to live your dream.
So change yourself and remember this,
Your only salvation is this metamorphosis.
The most beautiful thing about these bubbles,
Is that like people who followed their dreams but met their end,
They will always remain in our heart and always be reminiscent.
poem by SaviorsLavish Human
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Top Taps
At the Royal Festival Hall, on the third floor,
There is an experience which I just adore.
Every time that I visit there, I always choose
To wash my hands under the taps in their loos.
Out of the tap, the water suddenly gushes;
On to my waiting hands, hot water rushes.
Into the basin, water froths and foams:
I really wish we had these taps at home.
Round my wrists, the white water swirls
Like a precious bracelet, made of pearl.
Bubbles coat my hands, just like a glove:
It is a sensation which I simply love.
By the bubbles, my hands are massaged.
Luckily, for these loos, there isn't a charge.
With these taps, I am a little obsessed.
These are the taps which I love the best!
poem by Angela Wybrow
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Wisdom dawns posthumously.
Waves ebb; ripples fade; bubbles burst.
Yet they seek to strive; yes, they must.
Innocent of the end, they exult.
Only in the end would come regrets.
26.10.2004
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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