Forwards, I'm a bulbous root or stem that's underground Backwards, I reply, rebuff, and argue, reasons sound

Milk me for pleasure, but addiction may bite. My tiny black seeds make your bagel just right. A flower from the East, with history in bloom, I've altered both fortunes and empires in my room.

I’m cut off from the world by waters so wide, with nowhere to travel but out with the tide.

You can plant me in spring And see the beauty I bring I can show up for ideas so bright It lights the dead of night I can be single, or perhaps on a string In wintertime with carolling What am I? You ask Flip the switch and reveal behind the mask.

After much debate over who came first, I'm pretty much over it. I'm what comes out of a chickens bottom, and I'm not talkin s h i t!