Best Quarreling Poems
Thoughts of Two Dimensions
Yesterday, I loved your courtyards
bathed in moonlight's shadows and smiles,
smitten by wavering stars,
lanterns of my youth,
that are reflected as coins,
in the quiet waters of your fountains.
Those are my reminiscences
arabesque creatures of an old chest,
sanctified by the lavender,
and left on the bottom of my wardrobe.
Today, I love your crowded streets,
pebbled alleyways that breathe
with aromas of kitchens,
shouts of children quarreling,
and nagging of older women
behind those awnings and windows of life well known.
Tomorrow, I will love your hot paved squares
that open to the harbors and promising high seas
while cypresses will send regards to far away winds,
and seagulls will sing nostalgia cries
of wandering merchants and sailors.
She never got to know SpongeBob,
Or the thrill of Jerry and Tom,
She never had the fun of quarreling with the maid,
Or hiding the bathing soap just to watch cartoons.
Her life has been one big fight, that she lost before she could even start.
That girl in tattered rags,
The girl in a fierce battle with jiggers,
The girl from the muddy hut,
That girl has a frail body,
But her brain I admit, is very gigantic.
She dreamt of flying a plane,
Before even the age of adolescence,
She thought it would get her family off the hinges,
But her biggest fear became a reality, someone said,
"The fee is too high, aviation is not for the poor."
Slowly her interest in music grew,
Her voice so melodious no doubt she could triumph.
Then one man came and offered her a studio session,
She thought she was lucky, but the price? the man said,
"There's no need for money, you can just pay with your body."
Then she was convinced,
To pursue education because it's the key,
And 'realistic' dreams as a poor man's kid,
So she turned her whole being into books,
Digging them with a dimming lamp till midnight.
Her passion in physics grew,
Her brain so sharp always leading her compeers,
She thought it would be fun working as a mechanical engineer,
But her peers! they said,
"Engineering is for boys. Machines for a girl? that's weird!"
Then finally in medicine she landed,
But life has never been easy either,
Not with the teacher's mockings,
"Your brain needs alot of glucose and plenty resources,
Poor and you're studying medicine haha it can't make."
Days and nights both dark,
Struggling with an empty tummy and a hefty fee burden,
The girl ain't giving up yet,
But one thing I know,
Their is no hope for the poor man's kid.
Kid next door helplessly cries
Such a howling, I can't describe
No one knows what he wants
Neither can he tells others why
Couples next door furiously fight
Such a quarreling, I can't abide
No one clearly says what he, she wants
Neither can they peacefully lie*.
Next to the window, I helplessly stand
Such a feeling this moment, I can't pretend
Peaceful as it seems,
Its truth, the world may not stand.
Kid next door continues to cry.
Couples next door continually fight.
Mikhail.
The song came to me again this
morning,
The youth own the future.
It makes my ear bitter and sorrowful.
We been hearing the old song before,
Yet, no future for us the youths.
We are painted black and red,
the Grey hair men still dominate ,
dominate and embezzle our pride.
Our wings cut off amidst agony.
When is the is the future, leader?
When is our turn to get the national
cake?
When shall we rule perfectly without
god fatherism?
Good neighbourliness is a good thing,
Yet we are hostile and embittered.
Each moves about its own way,
Facing the oddities of life
just like the snake of the forest.
Easily harm and hopeless.
Remember our lives have a price.
a price of dignity and honour.
Our lives has a price to pay before
another phase of life opens.
When shall you remember our pains
and suffering?
When shall we be remember in our
own land?
Remember we follow your footsteps
Give us bread and we shall give to
your offspring.
Such is life to behold.
Stop the torture and embezzlement
and give us quantitative future,
Give us future to hope on .
perhaps that would show us our
position
in ages to come by.
So we can proudly swallow the song
without quarreling with our stomach.
When shall you cease to deceive us?
When shall w be gathered in honour?
When shall we taste the honey from
the land without the bee stings?
In us lies the future but the future is
hidden from us.
Our ancestors passed the songs to
our fathers,
and our fathers passed the song to us
to sing,
we are the leaders of tomorrow
Yet, we will pass it to our children .
Would that not make us foolish
fathers?
When is our future, leaders?
When the position is passing hand to
hand.
remember a hen does not abandon it
chicks,
Because she hopes to nurture and
impact on them.
Lead them to the godly ways so that
when the kite shall come howling
they can hide themselves .
Where shall we hide in the future?
Where is our portion in our native
land?
careful, beware leaders, we count all
your steps
our revolt may claim your lives.
Remember the youths watches you
calmly
yet angry, angry for justice and equity.
She built her nest of straw and mud,
anchored to the rocks on our entryway.
Through the glass in the front door,
we watched her as she sat up there
on her eggs, allowing babies to grow.
After they hatched, she hovered close,
quarreling at us for coming too near.
She sat motionless on the nest at night,
covering them for hours with her body,
warming with the spread of her wings.
I think she liked that nesting part best;
daylight brought endless hours of work,
bringing worms for wide, hungry mouths
and guarding nearby to keep danger at bay.
Then came the task of teaching them to fly;
an enormous effort for such a tiny mother.
We watched them grow too big for the nest,
crowding so their feathery butts hung over
the edge, their droppings cascading down
over the rocks, onto the porch below.
One morning's surprise brought a view
of an empty nest; the babies had flown.
Mother bird returned to begin once more.*
Amazed to see her back on the nest,
we opened the bird book to find her,
this Eastern Phoebe, who has found
home in Missouri, returning each year
to grace our mornings with sweet calls.
*Note: Our task was to suffer the obstacle course of a ladder, extension
cord, and a continuous fan on the front porch to keep baby birds from
smothering in the heat, plus scrubbing the crud off the porch floor. The
first two broods were okay, but, in July, the third try was a killer.
Meribah means” quarreling”
Messah “testing”
Istraelites grumbled a lot
It was about the lack of water
Moses responded by scolding them for testing Eternal God
It only incited the people more
Threatened to kill him
Moses petitioned to Eternal God
Who supplies the water they need
When we complain about our less-than-satisfactory situations
Moses is not around to intercede
A bit of complaining maybe helpful; a lot is harmful
Get complains out by writing in journal
Grumbling to myself when I walk
This keeps me from continuing my inner griping endlessly
To prolong it would definitely harden my heart
When I stop complaining
Open up to the quiet presence of the Holy one
I don’t always receive water like the Istraelites
But I do obtain the ability to let go and live more peacefully
A letter came from Auntie Mabel today--
Saying how she’s tired of working for low pay,
Seems her widowed sister has come to stay,
The kids make too much noise when they play
Keeps telling me she doesn’t have much to say,
Still having trouble with a molar in final decay.
Her nephew on her husband’s side turned gay
And her favorite rooster died right where he lay,
Wanted to know what I think she should weigh
And, lastly, wanted the latest on Aunt Lula Fay,
Frankly, not much in her letter seemed okay.
In a week or so, I will answer her letter--
Telling her she should retire to spare her back
For a home and money, her sister doesn’t lack.
I’ll remind her quarreling about the kids is smack,
There is a fine dentist in her town named Jack
As to her nephew, I said he finally got the knack,
Sorry, but the rooster would’ve made a great snack
As to Aunt Fay, now I know she’s not snorting crack,
And, if she starts to diet, don’t consult a quack.
written October 7, 2021
My tussle with nature will be fruitless
If not for that, I will ask for a millennia
Just to spend my life with you
I will make our love awestruck for your progeny
And posterity will make us a monument
To hail always till the end of time
Romeo and Juliet will be exchange with our names
And the act of Delilah will be extinct
Trust will be our backbone
Faithfulness will be our weapon
And loyalty will always forever shield us
You know why?
Because our love lingers than the day’s sunlight
And even surpasses that of the nights moonlight
seldom will there be fighting or quarreling
Because of our perfection
which strengthens our affection
I love you my peerless pal
Because you’ve delivered me from the darkness of loneliness
And you’ve made me feel the benefit of togetherness
Not forgetting you saved me from the path of stupidity for opting solitude
I venerate and salute you
For you brought love like I have never known
And that has made me chuffed to have you
for with you I will unwary
As my trust and loyalty will forever unswerve
You are a quintessence of what true love is
As you made my nadir become bliss
Your presence create a mood of delirious
And also a state of delirium
Am a stalwart because you made me
because you brought love like I've never known
you were my shelter from troubled winds
And my anchor in life's ocean
Have you forgotten you were always strong when I was tired and weak
As you always inspired and motivated me to greatness
Ha, and under your tutelage, I embrace success
As you even raised my flag to be highest
You push me to the apex of prosperity
And you even raised my status to that of a celebrity
I will forever recall your love and support
for your handiwork is that only of a true love
Yes indeed you are
You are nothing but a true love
It seems like only yesterday
My home was filled with activity,
Laughter, quarreling and lots of love.
Just as life should be.
I look around and see yesteryears
Of scuffed floors and marked up walls,
Telling a story of lives being lived.
My children's ebbs and flows of life-
Dirty faces, begging to be chased,
Sticky fingers, grass stained knees,
Floor picnics on rainy days,
Wiping tears and snotty noses,
Breaking up many small feuds,
And with my arms stretched out wide,
I'd show them how I love them more.
Dare I say, kids grow up way too fast.
Before you know it they've left the nest.
But inside their hearts where love should grow,
They will make not just a house, but a home.
For Leonora Galinta's contest, 'A Home'
MY LOVE*****
My tussle with nature will be fruitless
If not for that, I will fight for a millenia
Just to spend my life with you
I will make our love awestruck for your progeny
And posterity will make us a monument
To hail always till the end of time
Because a facsimile of our love will be impossible
Romeo and juliet will be exchange with our names
And the act of Delaila will be extinct
Trust will be our backbone
Faithfulness will be our weapon
And loyalty will always sheild us
Seldom will there be fighting or quarreling
Because of our perfection
Which strengthens our affection
Longsuffering soft whispers
Gently linger through the winds of my soul
My empty cup now bitter
Left by the taste of loss
Your sweet music
I still hear distantly playing
Faintly keeping time
With the murmur of my heart
Your love like a storm
That never passes in night
Rain falling as my tears
Lighting electrifies my being
My thunder you are
Shaking my heart to the core
Earthquakes like waves
Wash over me as your arms.
The fray inside rages on
My split mind quarreling
Feeling you gone
With me always
It is a field composed of four times more stones than grass
with a spectacular traditional residency, making its habitat almost homogenous
is this global historic street light, shinning with well spread beams.
Through its inventions of western theories of tragedy and comedy,
major mathematical principles, histiography and western literature,
political science, the Olympics and western philosophy.
All well capped by the majestic influence from its creation of democracy.
Setting up as passengers of a flight travel to the past,
the suppressed heavily added to the density of its people.
Waving with an open hand and fingers well extended
hits the mind with similar intensity to telling an irish “smell ya ma”.
The puff of breath through pursed lips and the shade of blue
stand in mythical beliefs of protection against evil.
The unbelievable stamina of the Hoplite soldiers
all sum up the beautiful historic landmark of a nation
once defined by thousands of different quarreling colonies.
The leading producer of sea sponges
with its ships more than twice as much as its continental fleets
and a global accolade of accumulating archaeological Museums.
Despite being heavily wounded by financial meltdown;
and still drinking from the deadly taste of its black soup
its highlighted prominence in history, mathematics and philosophy
together with the cultural swag of its first world features
attract yearly interested sight-seekers much more than its inhabitants
which is an enough statement, to the testament of its global charm.
Oh the things I could have said
During the heat of our wrangle
I kept tact and class instead
Of controlling every angle
For every grenade you threw
I had two more on my belt
I chose to let yours accrue
Just to see how you felt
I took the high road
To say the very least
I could have leavened my load
Your humility, my feast
Instead I kept picking up
The insults that you threw down
Refilling the cup
You would spill on the ground
Hours you must have dedicated
Digging for bones in my closet
You must have left so frustrated
From chomping at the bit
I imagine a jarring epiphany
Leaving empty handed
A truly tearful symphony
Not the way you planned it
Quarreling with a nun
Produced no satisfaction
When your rant was done
You lacked my reaction
Surly you know what I left out
The words to fill in the blanks
The severity of stupidity so very stout
You will walk your plank
I am healthy and happy.
I see that which is beautiful and good.
I refuse to gossip and demean myself by uttering negative words or beliefs.
I refuse to be involved in quarreling, confusion and discord.
Each time something bad happens, I can choose to be a victim or I can choose
to learn from it. I choose to learn from it.
Every time someone comes to me complaining, I can choose to accept their
complaining or I can point out the positive side of life. I choose the positive side
of life.
I can complain because I have to go to school, or I can eagerly open my mind
and fill it with rich new tidbits of knowledge.
I can mourn my lack of friends, or I can embark upon a quest (even if it is slowly
at first) to discover new relationships.
I can cry because roses have thorns, or I can celebrate that thorns have roses.
Life is all about choices. When you cut away all the junk, every situation is a
choice. You choose how you react to situations. You choose how people will
affect your mood. You choose to be in a good mood or bad mood. The bottom
line: It's your choice how you live life.
Each morning wake up and say to yourself: "I have two choices today. I can
choose to be in a good mood or I can choose to be in a bad mood. I choose to
be in a good mood and focus on the positive aspects of life.
What today will be like is up to me. I get to choose what kind of day I will have!"
peoples quarreling
around circumference
worrying context