Best Quibbling Poems


Premium Member Rest-In-Pieces

The bats in the steeple were feeding on people
By sucking the blood splattered wood
That came from the coffin a vampire dropped off in
When he’d drunk all the blood that he could

Here in my basement, my permanent placement
I lurk since the day that I died
At rest in my casket, my skull in a basket
My hideous grin gaping wide

Rats and mice squeaking a rusty hinge creaking
A slither of light from outside
My long severed head was rotted and dead
But gasped as the door opened wide

I lifted my lid as some hooded kid
Crept sneakily into my crypt
He soon spun about and he might have run out
If only he hadn’t have slipped

As he hit the deck he shattered his neck
I thought he was bound to be dead
But then as he stood, he lowered his hood
And then he un-swivelled his head

He gave me a wink as a hideous stink
Came gushing with smoke from his ears
He then started hissing through teeth that were missing
He looked like he’d been dead for years

I climbed from my tomb and stood in the room
Where demons would hide out all day
Until in the night they’d screech their delight
And frighten the vicar away

But this little fellow with skin that was yellow
And nails that were long curly claws
Let out a howl, an unholy wail
Then went back and bolted the doors

Like rattles at Wembley, my bones were all trembly
My teeth were all chattering too
My wee wee was dribbling and let’s not be quibbling
I thought I was going to poo

It’s usually nice that we can’t die twice
So people down here dwell forever
I then realised that everyone dies
And now I’m not feeling too clever

For my turn came first, to enter the hearse
My beautiful love left alone
In these years apart she’s been in my heart
But hell’s darkest hole has no phone

So how could it be this thing before me
Could desecrate my sacred rest
I needed it banished, It had to be vanished
Along with the worms in its chest

I watched every worm wriggle and squirm
I jumped at the twelfth hour chime
In life we take knocks through the ticks and the tocks
But we can’t fight the passing of time

So...

In spite of the stink, I started to think
Which gave me the fright of my life
I had to make room in a new double tomb
For that hideous thing was my wife!




Entered October 2021 in Your Personal Favorite No 2
Sponsor L Milton Hankins
Categories: quibbling, halloween, horror, humorous,
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Division Of Neighbor

‘Hey stomach,’ says anus,
‘Would you cut the crap.’
“It’s not me,’ stomach says;
‘I won’t take the wrap.

It’s what they’re eating,
So blame teeth and mouth.
I’m innocent,’ says stomach,
‘For that filth down south.’

Brain has a good laugh
At organ expenses,
By prodding infighting
Over false offenses.

‘Are you kidding me,
You two dumb kidneys.
Always a teamed pair
For a fight that’s not fair!’

Roared livid liver
Who was hardly pleased,
That they blamed him
For the smelly feces.

‘Oh stop it now, liver
Just sit there and filter.
We said no such thing;
Don’t get out of kilter.’

‘Tee-he-he,’ laughs brain.
My plan’s working well,
To keep each organ
At odds over a smell,

That they have no power
To change or repair,
And since they can’t think
They’ll stay unaware.’

Hands and mouth kept
Eating junk by the hour.
Having been brainwashed,
They blindly devour.

Long ago brain trained eyes
To focus on the news,
Now it was time for all
Parts, to pay ‘their’ dues.

Bones pipe up, and say,
‘Something doesn’t feel right,
Hey muscles loosen up;
Why do you squeeze so tight?’

Muscles answer and say,
‘Colon and intestines
Are the guilty squeezers,
Causing congestion.

I’m just doing my part
At the request of the brain.’
‘But muscles,’ says bones,
‘It’s causing me pain.’

And after a while
Brain has all body parts,
At odds with themselves;
Over endless bad farts.

Organs, blood, and guts
Could not get along;
They once did their jobs
Keeping the body strong.

But brain has the answer,
‘Let’s vote on what to do.
Either I run the show,
Or you deal with bad poo!’

Yes, brain got them quibbling
And each held a grudge.
All based on false info
That made brain, ‘King Judge’.

So each part gave in
To that sneaky design,
And waited for orders
From brain to assign.

But brain was a liar
And steered organs wrong.
The body collapsed;
It didn’t take long.

Just like brain, most statesmen,
Fool us like we’re tarts.
Let’s not die for their lies,
But stay whole, not apart.
Categories: quibbling, analogy, betrayal, body,
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member No Quick Fix

We’ve proven there's no quick fix
when we start to yell and cuss.
Oil and water do not mix,
and the same thing goes for us.

When together, night and day,
senseless arguments break out.
And politeness fades away
as we both begin to shout.

Right or wrong, we won't relent;
egos are immune to tears.
And insults fuel our descent,
like drunks quibbling over beers.

Anger rises a degree 
when neither of us will bend.
But there's no chance we'll agree,
so our hearts will never mend.

Arrogance spews from our lips,
giving in; is hard to do.
And although all reason slips,
we opt to argue it through.


(Quatrain)


5/2/2015
Categories: quibbling, emotions, feelings, hurt, imagery,
Form: Quatrain

Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry


Family Heirlooms

Family heirlooms

Some collect old art pieces, jewelry or photos.
Others, end tables, organ benches, or beds
If it belonged to Grandma or Grandpa it’s a keeper.
Especially fancy needlework and piecework spreads.

And if it belonged to way-back generations,
Better hide it from inquiring siblings.
Like an antique trunk full of precious junk,
Be ready for some serious quibbling.

An agate marble with variegated colors,
A bone handled knife with Grandpa’s carved notch,
Grandma’s wedding ring many memories bring,
As does Uncle Henry’s gold pocket watch.

Many collectibles and few places to keep them.
We hold on tightly like a determined fanatic.
If embedded memories bring such pleasure to treasures
Why do they inevitably drift to the garage or attic?
© James Tate  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: quibbling, family,
Form: Quatrain

Premium Member Change

Like a tsunami from the ocean
I want to churn everything, inside out
But rue the fact that, 
Like a bubble in the air 
Have to be content with only 
Being fidgety inside myself. 

When the rocks try to stop 
The natural flow of river, downwards
Even the transparent water, gets bloodied, 
Breaking its head on the rocks, 
I can feel its squirming and quibbling
But can remain only a mute spectator.

Whenever I feel oppressed, in any form
My heart seethes and fumes
My blood Inside tends to boil over 
Only to become cold again, why?
Perhaps it is not in my nature to retaliate,
Then, am I condemned remaining wounded, perpetually?

Unable to do much about oppressive relations, 
I pine away with my grief
Only wishing I could also free myself
And others of the oppression and the pain it inflicts
And enjoy the happiness and freedom 
endowed by nature, in relations.

But looking at nature’s infinite vastness, where
Despite tight bonding and discipline in every bit
All relationships out there enjoy
Innate freedom, harmony and fairness 
Then Wounds inflicted by the experience of oppression, 
Fill me with jealousy and pain even harder and deeper.

Hope is life, maybe quite dreamlike
The change, which would destroy 
the current forms of oppressions
and build relationships, free and fair, anew
seems to be a far cry, as of now.

the volcanoes are also destined to remain 
dormant inside, for centuries, before they erupt.


Self Translation of my Hindi poem 'Parivartan'
Categories: quibbling, anger, angst, betrayal, freedom,
Form: Free verse

Premium Member I Love You For Being You

Ideas conveyed in trails of semantics
Or moving over horse and bars in gymnastics
Tumbling, rolling, scribbling phonetics
Reeling, shrilling, scorching like ballistics

Quibbling over ideas and reams of whims
Rattling odd stories of soul's whines and trims
Yours is the power over lines and grims
Absolution or redemption atop one's dreamed
  old gym hymns
Categories: quibbling, funny, sad, words, writing,
Form: Rhyme


-topsy Turvy World-

What's the matter Mother World,
why are you in such 
a topsy-turvy swirl?
Has Man again upset you so much?

Why is it that your face
has lost it's once flourishing green color
and your skin now blotching red,
your river'd throat aridly bled
and your inner-core rumbling hollow?

Is it because Men and Nation's
are too busy quibbling,
And greedily scrambling
over your bounteous generous donations?

That leads Man's descent
in self-destructing,
And you, your anger to vent
in quivering, belching, and lava spewing?

Has Man not his lesson's
learn't over timeless years
that their greed and actions
will result in raining acid tears?
Categories: quibbling, introspection, nature,
Form: Free verse

Premium Member That's Not How the World Works

That's not how the World Works
                     67.

I acknowledge your sacred mutterings
And the enthusiasm on which they gnaw.
But your argument seems fallacious
And for me... that be the fatal flaw.
You refuse to make allowances
For differing points of view
And before whittling other voices...
Try walking a mile in their shoes.
But also cease in your prostrations
Shouting at those you would convert.
No one ever won an argument using
Your brand of malevolence and hurt.
Be mindful of what history has to
offer and the times in which we be.
Your contentions may find relevance
And you may yet make bold of me.
Thus my friend...
We could pander to your grievances
Embracing such foibles and quirks,
But as my Mother rightly quipped...
"Honey...
That's not how the world works."

                 The End

               Indulge Me
                    68.

  Cease your endless quibbling
  On when life is such to be.
  You treat each abrogated fetation
  As a death to set you free.

  But indulge me for a moment
  As I cast a shadow on your life...
  You've only earned the golden ticket
  By eluding some Doctor's knife.

  Now it seems to me good manners
  And from this I gently savor... that
  Your lives be prized and cherished...
  Just please return the favor.

               The End
Categories: quibbling, courage, culture, introspection,
Form: Rhyme

True Rare Day Horn Hiaku

True Rare Day Horn Hiaku

True rare day is Thanksgiving
Lovely way to be living
Over food we are quibbling.

Which one will have the best taste
Have to eat fast with much haste
By God we were graced.

Now at table we are there
And shall start off with a prayer
Sat what would I dare?

Should I have to hesitate
Before I say, "God is great,"
How long must I wait.

Poor prayer is over and done
Did anyone I really stun
My prayer was a pun.

Wonder where shalt I begin
Now that my highchair am in
"God is great," Amen.

GaGa stands for God Always
God always. Anytime, you
boys can stop the noise.
That even rhymes. Wow.

James Thomas Horn
Retired Veteran and Poet
© James Horn  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: quibbling, thanksgiving,
Form: Haiku

Premium Member Quibbling With Carter Phipps

Carter Phipps has authored
"Evolutionaries:
Unlocking the Spiritual and Cultural Potential
of Science's Greatest Idea."

Hmmm. This is good rich brown rice,
and I want to stay nice,
cause I like his prime line
but I also like to scribble.

I thought science's greatest idea
was regenerating healthy outcomes,
with alternating slow-grow evolutions
and critical-event revolutions
emerging fertile polypaths
to further polyculturally healthy
wealth regenerations.

Evolutionary ways
toward regenerative means
and kinds balancing unkinds of nature
and DNA/RNA extensive kin.

If regenerate outcomes are evolution's medicinal purpose,
then scientists evolve emerging prescriptions
for nature's fertile unfolding of time.

And, by the way,
why "spiritual" potential of science?
and not "natural"
or is Phipps catering both together,
nondual co-arising emergence?
Categories: quibbling, earth, health, humor, nature,
Form: Parallelismus Membrorum

Presidental Races

Well the morons are in the race

A little behind but their keeping pace

Running at a close last

I see its the idiots they finally passed

don’t pull your bets: its not over yet

I see the imbeciles sneaking up on the left

Well the out comes unsure of a race finally won

But of the five judges only three have their thumbs

We look to the other judges in the show

Both of them quibbling so I don’t think they know

Now to the contestants to get their thoughts

Who really won and what was the cost?

The moron explains that the sweat their eyes

Prevented them from seeing, but know the judges don’t lie

While the idiot is sprawled-out on the ground

Their # 1 finger never went down

The imbeciles eyes were lit by his grin

Their only comment was “so I really did win”
Categories: quibbling, analogy, cheer up, community,
Form: Epigram

Premium Member On Being An Only Child

An only child, like I was, is
still looked upon askance?
As if I could force my Mom
and Dad to make more
babies, perchance?

Those poets here, who know
me quite well, 
Can figure out my honesty, and 
of course, that, I did tell!

I wanted a brother or sister, 
oh, please?
It's not fun to have no one
to play with or please!

" You will have more things
in life," they replied.
But I kept after them, as I am
not one to be denied.

Alas, God decided to send me 
not one sibling!
It taught me to get through
life, with no help or quibbling.

I had and still have friends,who are 
like sisters and brothers to me.
Part of the music of this great earth.
In my heart's whisper,you will forever be!


                    3/11/2021
                      ~3~
Categories: quibbling, childhood, feelings, friend, loneliness,
Form: Couplet

The Circus - a Tautogram

Amazing acrobats astound awe-stricken audiences.  Amy always asks about acts already arranged.

Bouncing bears balance beach balls.  Bobby Bear bicycled behind Betsy Bear.

Crazy clowns crash carelessly.  Carousels circle clockwise.

Daring demonstrations dazzle dazed dreamers.  Dopey donkeys dance diligently.

Elegant elephants elate everyone, eating everything enjoyable.  Eight elephants execute exciting entertainment.

Forty-five feisty flamethrowers fiercely fight fires.

Great Gambino gulps gigantic gems gingerly, giving gasping gazers giggles.  Genuine gigantic gorillas gaze goofily.

Hefty horses heave hefty hounds, howling harmoniously.  Heavyweights hurl hug hippos.  “Hasn’t hurt him,” Hugo Heavy huffed.

Iris indicated it’s impolite if I’m interested in inquiring into immersion into icing.

Joshua juggled joyfully.  Jeremiah just jumped jackasses.

Kissing kangaroos kiss kids kindly.  Karate kicking kids keep kicking.

Lions lounge lavishly leaving lookers laughing loudly.  Lollipop licking llamas licked Lional Lion lovingly.

Many men make mountainous merriment.  Mules march, munching Mayberries.

Nineteen nutty nags named Nancy nudge naysayers near nets.

Orange orangutans obey old-timers, opening obese objects.

Portly Peter Penguin parades past pretty Penny Penguin.  Penny paused, politely preening.  People purchase peanuts.

Quilting-bee queens quickly quiet quails.  Quarantined quibbling quackers quickly quiet.

Rabbits run rampant.  Robert requests refreshments.

Silly seals steamroll stalled stallions, snorting soundly.  Six stallions stomp successively, surrounding such silly seal.

Tumblers take to the trapeze.  Three tall tents tower, taller than two tightropes, two trapezes, three tumblers.

Ursula untied ugly umbrellas.

Vexed Venetians volleyed violently.

Wondrous wide-eyed watchers wooed weighted-down wagons.

X-rays x-hausted Xena

Youngsters yelled, yanks yelped.

Zany Zelda’s zebras zigzagged.
© Juli Freda  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: quibbling, animal, poems,
Form: Tautogram

Premium Member Quessence

quellulent quotatudes
quantify quirky, quiet
qualitative quibbling
quailing questionnaires.
Categories: quibbling, fun, humor, word play,
Form: Alliteration

Dawn

All nebulous dreams prospecting,
A hideaway in cloud atolls,
A nightly ocean, warmth awaiting,
In quibbling flow, to dawn's aperture
In spectra falling, spectral play crumbled,
Sojourner stars: their lamps parole
In a distance, behind amnesic lights
Razing autumn clouds, amber hues galore!
Cloud heaths, like bosom steaming
Of shying lovers in meeting pour
Whom expectations, sunrays in flurry,
The sky makes dawn red, and Sun allures
The air, in restless breeze cavorting,
By promised things which procure
A blushful pink, on allusion's canvas,
The whimsy sky in homely warmth pleasured
Into a fecund rosiness, its secrets goaded,
Flee from shadowed swathes: staid, demure;
And where played curt poem, autumn moon;
Is a sky by the the bold and brash secured
Categories: quibbling, fate, life,
Form: Free verse
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