Best Quarrelsome Poems
Salem
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Unrest of spirit churns behind thy door,
the sin interned therein is quarrelsome
No "witch" that thou hast burned serves to restore
the pitch that has upturned thy moral plumb
Forego thy demons, none would be found here
Such guile belies the pleasure of the young
Until thy trials should rise of fact, not fear,
so will thy measure see the pious hung
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Date: 11/14/2018
Sponsor: Julia Ward
contest: Unrest of Spirit
I thought poetry is
-name of Mesopotamia which was the first civilization to emerge in human history
-ancient cave peoples surviving life struggle
I thought poetry is
-an immortal love story of Yousuf- Zulekha, Shirin-Farhad, Laila-Majnu or Romeo-Juliet
-a telephonic or open love conversation of smiling postmodern girls
-drying wet colorful clothes of beloved in the courtyard of the house
-haring of beloved with tuberose garland before a mirror
I thought poetry is
-lizards chirping from the deserted house; cockroach flying
-quarrelsome cats in the black dark or barking dogs
-the struggle of mosquito for human blood
-traveling of the arrogant indecent animals all over the night
I thought poetry is
-thrilling venturous ghostly stories of J. K. Rowling
-self-expression of known-unknown writers
-unspoken tale of a war-wounded soldier
-the regret of the thousands of dead soldiers
-the unwritten fantasy of an isolated poet
-the lonely guitar or ektara of dead singers
I thought poetry is
-without reel tie an independent flying of a kite in the sky
-in the blue sky sovereign flapping of birds
-movement of invisible winds everywhere
-hearing story of fairytale crossing of green forest
I thought poetry is
-handmade airing of newly married girl to a new groom in lunch time
-dyed hands of nubile girls by mehndi,
-captivating sounds of jingling anklet and kamarband of dancing damsels
I thought poetry is
-classic music of Pandit Ravi Shankar
-immortal tune of Ustad Bismillah Khan's shehnai
-compilation of humanitarian lyrics of the legend Bob Marley
-heart touching reciting of the Holy Quran of Qari Abdul Basit
I thought poetry is
-unforgettable philosophical discussion of Socrates with his disciples
-the philosophic lineage of learning such as Socrates-Plato-Aristotle
-immortal scientific creations of Newton, Galileo, Einstein, Nikola Tesla, Hawking
I thought poetry is
-unremitting prayer or worship of any prevailed religion devotee to get heaven
-inhuman history of bombing on the Hiroshima and Nagasaki or brutality of 1st or 2nd World War
These all are just my thinking,
my thinking is free
on my path
but poetry is poetry,
more than any thinking, many more;
on its path
Poetry is independent fully
-June 27, 2019 Chattogram
The wonders of the world,
The clouds barrel into the pools of blue, crashing into golden sunlight streaks piercing through the sky,
A canvas of colour full of shades you cannot clarify,
As it floats by just above the likes of you and I,
Perched on a grand oak tree the birds soulfully sing,
Chirping a conversation, to us its a tweeting tune and the flapping of a wing,
The squirrels soon notice me,
As they scurry away up the Acorn tree, Watching and waiting from a bountiful beautiful branch,
Until it's safe to come thundering down the tree trunk,
To continue filling up their cheeks and arms,
The bunnies bashful and shy bolt for the bushes in the blink of an eye,
Unlike the bold butterflies that flutter brazenly through the skies,
Despite being delicate delights, full of vivid colours brightening up the sky, Just like fire flies burning bright in the nights eye,
The Lakes shimmer glistening in the rays of sunlight,
With a solid stillness that's glass like, Until a single ripples ride causes the surface and dark depths to collide,
We will never behold the secrets the dark depths haven't told,
Up above the geese are gathering getting ready for a good gaggling or perhaps they're giggling,
One things for sure they are certainly chitter chattering
The swans slide in silence paired with pure panache,
They are the Royalty of the water praised, poised and posh,
Ruling with regality and gracility and conduct,
Often looking down their elegant elongated necks,
At the peasant quarrelsome quacking ducks,
With utter distaste and disgust,
Flashes of yellow from Spring daffs sway away,
Dancing in the Whispers of the winds, a beautiful array
Petals from the Violets and bluebells amongst the lavender fields enhance what the emblazon earth's birthed,
The bees buzz in between the Floral display,
The nectar is their nicotine a bouquet buffet,
What wonders our world has to behold from for us to nurture,
The Creator blessed us not only with nature,
But every Acre each creature from the Grand Canyon a magnificent crater, to the Icelandics glistening glacier, everything is a fantastic feature,
We are blessed, to walk amongst the wonders of this world.
Ordinary…yet precious moments
That adhere ardently
To one’s heart
Points in time that
Without reason or rhyme
Become outstanding… and stand apart
A trio of quarrelsome hummingbirds
Outside of one’s window
Tentative, timid… first flakes of snow
Playful puppies fighting over toys
Prickly Hummers and puppies alike
Naught but bickersome boys
Just an ordinary moment, in an ordinary day
ordinary ol’ man and his ordinary wife
An ordinary daughter, an ordinary life
This ordinary day…becomes a memory
And in turn becomes extraordinary
By some strange happenstance
A happy memory of Hummingbirds
And puppies and daughter’s pleasant company
..and snowflakes that dance…
Oh how very earnestly pleasing
I do so find
The wide, sun splashed avenues
Of grand residential Worthing;
Where the old poets
Announce each and every corner;
So neatly squared and turned
By thoroughly conceived Victorian
Order.
Quiet sonnets reside here
Seeking haven from weary
travels,
Sustained by appetizing foreign
aromas,
Loitering amidst the long drawing
shadows;
Clinging to the flinted garden walls,
Dallying with the scented Jasmine
From where hidden finches call.
Finding yourself gently led down
And into narrow, high walled
streets;
That delightfully converge upon
Bustling open spaces
Where the multi-nations meet;
And greet with quarrelsome gulls,
Strutting and yarking,
Barking like little dogs
Around our feet.
Here we can absently sit,
And make like carefree Parisians
Separated by an English sea,
Whilst contentedly sipping scalding
coffees
Of exciting continental styles;
And forgetting our mundane
troubles...
Smile and laugh, for perhaps,
Just the shortest of whiles.
They are vain, quarrelsome men
Bloated, opinionated,
Untidy, men cosseted
By the academic life,
The literary life—smug,
Tell you what authors are in
Or out. They know best—of course.
("I know full well, if I can tolerate her spirit, I can with ease attach myself to every human being else," so said Socrates! The title is inspired by a proverb)
He married to the fairest of fair shepherdess
The shepherd was much older than the dame
But the fairest of dames was not headless one.
Was given the charge of the house with little money.
Folks knew well she was not quarrelsome wife
But the husband ignored his duties day by day
Wasted time, roaming in the country with sheep a few
Wandering with friends, wondering at God’s creations.
But that didn’t fetch the livelihood of the family
He was in heaven as his wife never scolded him
Silence was her fair jewel, which she always wore
But she kept her sharp tongue intact, never to rut.
A day came, she bemused her silence, mused tongue
Obviously he has to face a wife much younger than him
With rutted tongue, tolerated her tantrums and tongue.
So that with ease he can enjoy his daily lazy routine.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Date 12-16-13
Dr. Ram Mehta
Second place win
Form: Free Verse
Contest: Relate your poem to one of the quotes by Giorgio Veneto
Chosen quote: 1) "By all means, marry. If you get a good wife, you’ll become happy; if you get a bad one, you’ll become a philosopher."
- Socrates
Almost always, as additional allurements arrive, ask as a Being...
By better borne behests become best Causes ?
Can causes create concise concepts Diligently ?
Do doers do decidedly dumb doldrums Ever ?
Each eek echoes egotistical efforts enduring Familiarity...
Faith fathers forgiveness for flaunting fabled Gifts.
Gasps give great grief, growing gruesome Hatreds...
Hasn't humanity had hurt hearts hung Innocently ?
Is insistence in increasing irritation inevitably incongruous Justice ?
Jimson jars...jitters...joggles...jolts...just jocose jurisprudence' Knell.
Kerfuffle kin, kickshaw kept ken, kindly knaves kneading Lamentations...
Leaving love's loaves, lordly lotharios, looking like lowlifes Made.
Marking more madmen mere moronic monsters meting mayhem Nearby.
Now, not never, nab needed nerves, nurture nasturtium near Openness !
Once only one, ordained our ostracism, outrage outdone on overwrought Plight.
Perhaps pride precludes passable patience, posing portentous prolapse Quickly !
Quiet quandaries, quarrelsome qualms, quivering quixotic quirks Resplendent...
Reaching relapse, revolving recidivism, reconstructed reflective reform Seen !
Searching secretive states, seemingly simple, sincere serenity sought Through...
Tender tears, touching together to total tympanic transformation Unjust.
Unique union...unimportant, unbending, unpopular, unless universal Veracity !
Verbose verbalism, vertical vignettes verify vital victory Won.
When written with wit...watershed words work wonderful Xerography !
Xyloid xylography, xeroxed xeno X, Yet...
Yesterday's youth, yowled yummy young yips Zanily !
Zeitgeist, zombie zealots zapping zonked zingers...Away !!
A ghost began whispering inside the soul's echo
there one Trojan horse enters defeated
spiritually the battle ground stands firmly fixed
against those whom denounce the King
misery will follow with disastrous events
Where human rights are exploited through chaos
quarrelsome beggars deny the basic truth to explain
Backfiring liars have a burning desire to bring conflict
Unequally self ordained gods of little value without hope
they try to influence the battle results
ignoring this backward omen leading to terrible infighting
warfare has the mentality that's deeply incorporated this motivating force
where sorrow beats down by force the anger deeply within us
.
Now I shall go, to overtake that killer of a dear life
into one's conscious self
our mortal undying glory rises or falls
quick to the mark snaps the rawhide strap
The usurpation of the annual right of solstice
by a quarrelsome religious upstart,
Lead to the re-designation of the celebration
due to its now newly designated Holy part.
In order for a connection to be formed
between the Lord and a party that was pagan,
The symbolism had to be reworked
until for Christians it could be displayed again.
By this intent, the Roman festival of Saturnalia
surrendered its celebratory rite,
And donated all that it possessed
to those who recognized a birth one Holy night.
Is this to say that the adherents of the newly
formed holiday were being misdirected?
Or that the symbols of the pagan celebration
are something that needed to be inspected?
I advocate for the negative in response
to the above outlined interrogatives,
Instead I shall take a stand to allow each
to follow their own personal prerogatives.
And if any of what you’ve read in this missive
should sway you into taking pause,
You’ll probably want to keep it to yourself
Or there’s a chance that you’ll tick off Santa Claus.
If you do love
A lass let her know
And feel it
Otherwise you’d be
In vein
Once you give
Her heaps of hopes
Break them not
For hers would
Get wounded
No treatment
Could cure hers
Give her no tears
And fears
Assure your love
To her in a way
She could be happy
Be closer to her
For DISTANCE could
Make her separated
At least for awhile
Be not argumentative
Or quarrelsome
For she’d be shocked
Do what she wants
You to do though
You like it or not
Gently touch her head
Till she falls asleep
For her DREAM’ be you
For sure, My Dear Friend
Saumya Aloysius
let every old woman with a wrinkled face,
she should be aware,she lives in disgrace,
a furrowed brow,hairy lip and single tooth,
know me well,i'll get the truth.
a squinty eye and scolding tongue,
the squeaky voice she's had from very young,
you will never hide from me,
i'm the witch hunter general you see.
my name shall be feared throughout this land,
my hunting of witches will go as planned,
first you'll be tossed into a cell,
stripped naked and starved,until you tell.
i'll start to prick to cause you pain,
and i'll do it over and over again,
then you'll be bound to stool or table,
cross legged of course,even if you're not able.
after twenty four hours the cramps will set in,
again poked and prodded,but i'll use a new pin,
you'll then walk the stones til your feet bleed,
still i reckon you don't get to feed.
then you're taken for a swim in the lake,
your baptism water you didn't take,
if you're innocent you will drowned,
but if you sink a true witch i've found.
this cruelty wasn't enough,mathew got no kicks,
a new style was developed,it only took two ticks,
he bent victims double,tied thumb to big toe,
a rope round the waist,in the water they'd go.
these people were worn down by his torturous way,
but hopkins was going to have his say,
one question he used in the brow beating session,
you're aquainted with the devil,i want a confession.
a nod or monosyllabic reply will do the trick,
or my man will beat you again with the stick,
then poor john lowes,a suffolk minister of note,
was told you're a witch,i can tell by your coat,
a quarrelsome gent of seventy was poor john,
disliked by many,they wanted him gone,
hopkins took the task to prove he was right,
john was kept awake for many a day and a night.
they ran him till he was out of breath,
he was weary, and scared half to death,
so he confessed to get some peace,
then the torturous pain would cease.
hopkins said"another one i didn't let survive",
john went to the scaffold august 1645,
no cleargy would read for him at his grave,
a villager said"to the devil john was no slave".
who knows how many poor sould were lost,
letting hopkins rule,had it's own cost,
more than 200 people this way met their fate,
by the time hopkins hit norfolk,it was too late.
his trials of blood passed through our countryside,
in his work mathew hopkins took great pride.
Victims In Victory Seen Through Their Eyes
The two were brothers unlikely ones so they had been told by their
Heteronormative leaders marching in confidence to monochromatic
Repetitive bugles of one-sidedness’ strides one-sightedness’ quest
Occidental Oriental obedience to some Major some God or other led
Usurpers to an unusual display of sameness at the end when they left
Geopolitical pawns both Barrett (The Quarrelsome)and Youssuf
Heeding Allah (Piety Power and Influence) stood firm until the end
The scene of their parties was Mesopotamia just north of Bagdhad
His Majesty The King and the Ottoman Sultan had come to agree to
Enter the resting of weapons ceasefire and armistice had been set
In his mind Youssuf prayed to Allah and Barrett reached for a brandy and smoke
Reprieve and behold they would return in one piece from the trenches
Ending the battle they finally exchanged compliments and Barrett and
Youssuf each had a bayonet stuck through one of their eyes minutes before
Evening rested that one day of too many long days 1918 in October
Sharqat and the battle thereof was over and the men were the lucky ones
08th October 2016 and the battle has resumed Through Many Different Eyes
America, the land of the free, catering to the wealthy and pushing the poor.
Blacks are all but exempt; they are seen as property and nothing more.
California brought into this nation by gold, as a false equality,
Demanded by some to spread the systems of vast irrationality.
Extradition in compromise to abolition.
Fugitives thrown back to chains, complete pacification.
Grace, all too fallen from, that was this nation.
Humble as many others were, one woman changed the nation.
Illegal activities by abolitionist became the norm, in hopes to stop degradation.
Johns and Janes educated in the taboo subject of the naive.
Kings and knights replaced with tyrannicals and elderly slaves.
Liberty and freedom for all,
Men and woman, Black and White, all readying to fall.
Night falls, creating a stage for the quarrelsome show.
Oppositions face each other, their bodies ready to feed the coming crows.
Position between this and that,
Quarrelling over the proper way to skin a cat.
Runaways are forgotten for the time being,
Say it so, as many were fleeing.
Tackless politicians following a false tradition,
Utilitarian, one may say, on their decision.
Vicious out cries spread across the nation following
White men's decision to take a stand being,
Xecute the evils of the world.
Yells coming from each side, each saying they are more moral'd.
Zephyrs blow across the grasses, to contrast what is to come.
These dreams
Which I dream now for few nights—to my surprise…!
As last night she was walking with me
On that willowy road,
And looked down in the dumps, and remorseful for all-- she ever did.
And when I tenderly asked her why?
She gave a quarrelsome reply,
“What! (Bulging her eyes out and wide);
He my Husband is not my Lover?
As I was—someone’s dearly loved…!
And I can feel it every single minute,
I am an unwanted wife but a moneymaking machine.
I…, I mourn my imprudence I called my wisdom,
Rejecting alas! Those merry days and nights in love
For this false fictitious living…!”
Well! I could sense it with ease
That she still loved me as ever,
And needed in bad time my arms’ refuge.
My God! let these dreams turn true
And she returns soon to my long wintered garden
As sweet spring.