Best Squabbles Poems
The airy mountain, lush and green, they call home
Perched on shaky rock, the waters beneath swash and foam
Goats graze, cattle feed, fields of corn and wheat they comb
Stored in the belly of the hefty hill
The harvest, food for all, food to fill
Spring is here, they forget the winter chill
Swimming in the mountain stream, singing of selfish praise
Not a worried eye to be seen, to the sky a glass they raise
Foolish people dance and scream, their minds muddled, their hearts ablaze
Through the earthen caverns they wander
Wealth and fortune they do squander
They do not think, they do not ponder
What a waste these people brought
No knowledge gained, no answers sought
Squabbles grow more and more, 'ore the land they fought
Blood spilled, turning the mountain red
The rocks toppled, the peak lost its head
Waste away they do, no stopping 'till they're dead.
Categories:
squabbles, america, analogy, fate,
Form:
tristich
The dawn sky throws a spear of vivid red
lancing the fir treetops, but not yet me
with my bag of bread.
The wheel is still asleep, the water still,
seems today we all have time to kill.
Scan the surface with imagination's eye
waiting for Excalibur to rise,
but no- just an indifferent pair of Swans
gliding softly through the mist to Avalon.
Reverie broken,
canned laughter from the ducks
their squabbles shatter the mirror
Dragonfly tries to referee.
I look down and, for a split second,
see another me.
I wonder if he's happy
March 15th 2015
Categories:
squabbles, good morning, imagery,
Form:
Free verse
Hear ye, hear ye: Listen to my timeless presentation
If you'd like to conquer anger, irritation, or vexation.
My name is Emerson, Ralph Waldo if you please,
I founded Transcedentalism, creating a fresh breeze
Which elevates and fortifies an individual's will and spirit,
To withstand provocations intended expressly to smear it.
The vehicle is simple, a child's plaything:
A spinning top designed to give us a wing,
To raise us above petty squabbles and strife,
Bringing peace to the world, enriching life.
The top has four sides, each with a letter,
Symbolic of strategies to help us to better
Withstand darts and arrow aimed by others at us
As we keep our own counsel: Discuss---never cuss.
Spin the top as fast as you can,
Wait eagerly to see where it lands;
If 'B' is face up, it means 'Breath:'
So 'Take a Deep Breath;'
Exhale -- Anger's died an angelic death!
Spin you magic top again:
If it lands on 'S,'
Smile your widest smile,
Grin your jolliest grin:
Now there's no way at all for irritation to seep in!
Once more twist your top;
Watch it land on 'C.'
'Count to 100,' then wait and see:
From vexation you'll flee;
You'll feel only glee!
The last side the top can land on is 'L.'
'L' stands for 'Loss' -- Compare it with 'Gain:'
You Anger will only land you in Trouble again,
Whereas Peace and Tranquility win the day,
Providing adults much-needed opportunity for play.
Now I know our tops are not cheap,
They're priced pretty high;
But what matters money
When you soar to the sky?
February 28, 2018
Categories:
squabbles, anger, flying, magic, moving
Form:
Light Verse
seabird flock squabbles
on safe peninsula shore
it beggars belief
Categories:
squabbles, bird, friendship,
Form:
Haiku
Brightening up spirits all around,
Through the charming smile of
yours.
A true friend in you I found,
A shoulder to cry on for hours.
I seek your comfort when distressed.
Heed your advice if perplexed.
For the times we spent,I now crave
Memories cherished in my heart.
Our priorities but have,
Called for us to part.
For your proximity I long,
Can I express it in a song?
I'll miss your company,
Perhaps more than you'll miss mine.
Loads of fun, squabbles not many,
Days we spent together, truly divine.
Not to worry,no cause for a tear
As you live in my heart......my dear.
Categories:
squabbles, friend
Form:
Rhyme
Soul passion is not a simple task.
This is grasped as a soulful bask,
To reserve one's sound mind and soul,
To your loved ones, but not a hack.
They set down those blessed vows as rule,
In a precise scheme, that's the goal,
Since the pen-pusher by now knew,
I don't dismiss the budding role.
Spot our bloodline evolved and grew,
When our souls stand, sorely renew,
Our feelings may become muddled,
With the one, we esteem for true.
Life's chore complications crumbled,
May seldom grasp its rate stumbled,
And shepherd a partner or spouse,
Too wide, gloom, and bleak shaft fumbled.
Although, we relinquish word swears,
To be prized, esteemed with obeys,
to discard each other as well,
our arduous traipse continues.
Our sound bodies are shaped well,
that's why many of us can tell,
In the sort of low dust and grime,
Into the scum of smeared lust, dull.
So, within, there is creed sublime,
Stumbles is near the end of time,
It discloses straight to our thoughts,
And unholy erects in slime.
Attempting to maintain our wrought,
Is challenging without a brought,
One should reach out to the other,
And squabbles should be held as naught.
Such misgivings may be utter,
Despite this, your tongue is tender,
Those who have shown anxiety,
have a rough time seemly hover.
Ne'er deem without proof utterly,
Or to be selfish and greedy,
Doubt is a marked first point of this,
We judge that evil eats, truly.
Don't put your faith in people's glitz,
Since he, too, is made of brain blitz,
Believe in God with all your heart,
He'll view through, stow you on the ritz.
Written: May 11, 2022
Categories:
squabbles, analogy, appreciation, character, faith,
Form:
Rubaiyat
When all squabbles and wars shall cease
As for the complete world, we will create peace
Individuals ought to be more socially adept,
not scolding one another for being incorrect.
Contemplation involves ample guidance,
and eradicates our pretentious contrivance
We might also switch the soul's floodgate
Recognizing that we harvest what we create.
War arises as a struggle for power and land
People at times just need a helping hand
Avoid self-interest and under-mount sinks,
And pleading for humanity to peace winks.
Kindred children are resilient and vitreous
Loss of candor led them to become igneous
We might limit our focus to pursuing peace,
Our voice ought to reflect love, not decease.
My spiritual self serves as my divine guide,
Seeking understanding is a process inside
I buried my treasured self hidden within,
where it will be safe against earthly sin.
I place my trust and faith in the Lord above,
Who has convinced me of the eternity of love?
and perseverance that leaves doubts behind,
I aim to induce peace by myself, but inside.
We should all aspire to coexist in peace,
People suffer when there is such a decrease
because it is profoundly ingrained inside,
With our peace, we are inextricably tied.
Written: January 29, 2023
Finding Peace Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Regina McIntosh
Categories:
squabbles, analogy, appreciation, humanity, peace,
Form:
Rhyme
they're having a happy chat
they would not dream to own
some scarecrow with a stone
beneath its frightening hat
scheming fancy and laughter
cheering and chanting aloud
they'd not venture to alter
one frail reassurance found
their stories all have flair
if thoughts are loud or bare
those children sleep lightly
they'll whisper thoughtfully
shun a straightforward stare
through squabbles skillfully
Categories:
squabbles, poetry,
Form:
Rhyme
The sky is blue with music beats
The stars are smiling in the east
The moon is tangoing with me
And the trees are waving their leaves
The lilies are swaying in the wind
The birds are flapping their wings
The sun is standing still
For the birth of a unique Prince
The duck is cooing a coo
The drum is booming with boom
The bell is jingling melody tunes
For the dancing shoe in jolly mood
Every teeth is stable, dappled with babble
To dandle and staple the victuals rounding the table
No squabbles to dabble or dangle
This fable is not a parable to scrabble
The world is now at ease
In my mother’s little arm with peace,
That is crooning a lullaby
For her newborn baby
Now that a diamond is in the sky
My mother is no longer shy
She could join the laughter of the night
For the birth of a new life
I’m a newborn baby today
Starting life afresh, again
The smiles on a baby’s face anyway
Is an anthem, enough for a happy birthday.
HURRAY!
Categories:
squabbles, anniversary, devotion, happiness, inspirational,
Form:
Personification
Japan, land of rising SUN
Faced Natures devastation
Tsunami, earthquake obliterated cities
Lost all but not hope, maturity, sanity
Collective harmony, community first attitude
No honking, no mad overtaking; only understanding on jammed roads
No shoplifting when lights fused in malls
Mature media, compassionate humanity
No bloodcurdling visuals of chest beating or wild grief
No hypocrisy of help by Politicians
Well cultivated patience, doggedness to move on
Relief work, removal of debris, building roads at amazing speed
No mass scale panic on tanking of stocks, yen vulnerability
Cultured dignity, dignified grace
Disciplined queues for water, groceries, no chaotic scenes, squabbles
People buying to meet present need, so everybody could get something.
High moralistic Human values
Restaurants cut prices, no burglary at unguarded ATM
Plain speak on Nuclear threat levels
Japanese have done it before
Hiroshima and Nagasaki bombings could only maim not rein
Tsunami and earthquake could only dissolve few cities not their resolve
Crisis handling, innate to Japanese
God gave volcanoes
They marshalled art of baking on it rather than getting charred
Japan, the land of rising SON
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
By Hitendra Mehta
May 2011
For Members Contest - Trubute to Japan by Debbie Guzzi
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Categories:
squabbles, inspirational
Form:
Free verse
lizards
black tar sweats, squabbles, shakes in the glare of the ocean of blue.
white light engulfs the sky.
stealing the heat we grip the ground with our claws.
scan the black tar with our yellow eyes.
our blood begins to warm.
her hair is melting to soft green scales and mine to black
blending into the ground.
we are lizards,
we laze in the sun,
it cannot scare us with its glare
we are lizards,
silent strong quick predators,
unnoticed yet still there.
we stalk a flying bumble bee; shattered glass, yellow string
buzzing it moves anxiously, falling, rising in the wind
she moves too slowly to catch it
it glides higher in the sky
we watch as it soars to freedom
we should have learnt to fly
black tar engulfs my vision
cradles and crushes my head
white noise of harsh invasion
her cry consumes my dread
our scales snapped
they tear from our skin
without amour to shield the attack
a stampede of torn and dirty shoes feast upon the remains
they dig and dive into my stomach
with intent to play their games
teeth of bound dark leather
snouts of practiced malice
souls etched with childrens patterns
dirt and gum
now printed on our bodies
with one more laugh and a jolt of pain
they leave
my eyes are blue now
and hers are drowning
the sky is blue
the day pleasant
the floor warm
but the trance has gone
our reality mangled
we are no longer lizards
we cannot pretend anymore
we are children
weak, shy, yet far too noticed
labelled, bruised and saw.
by Jess Tizard
Categories:
squabbles, bullying, childhood, identity, imagination,
Form:
Alliteration
An ideal husband doesn’t argue,
He never squabbles or swears,
Only about his wife he cares.
He always says kind words,
Doesn’t do anything that hurts.
Doesn’t play cards or guzzles away money,
Days and nights repeats: You are my honey!
Out of the rest he is much wiser,
He is not poor or a miser.
In all he is good and so nice,
Always gives a good advice.
An ideal husband is very strong,
And his wife is never wrong.
Even in bed he is the best,
Every day with him is a fest.
At other women he never looks,
And plus to that he nicely cooks.
He is so handsome and not boring,
And you will never hear him snoring.
His wife is blameless and so gorgeous,
She goes out and he’s not jealous.
In all his wife he loves to assist.
Does such a husband really exist?
It seems he can be found only in dreams.
©Larisa Rzhepishevska (Odessa, Ukraine)
Categories:
squabbles, funny, husband, wife, husband,
Form:
Rhyme
On this typical Sunday morning,
alone in his room,
he smells his favorite breakfast being prepared,
He is almost overwhelmed by the barrage of
fragrances wafting from two teenage daughters' rooms.
The loving tug at his heart is quickly overwhelmed by
his constant companions--
sadness, darkness, and self-pity.
The sounds of morning fill the house~~
water running,
bacon sizzling, eggs being cracked on the side of a bowl,
bathroom squabbles,
a TV preacher, coffee gurgling
into the pot, his wife humming "Amazing Grace."
Once like a symphony to him,
these sounds are now intrusions
that create a grinding dissonance,
an excuse to withdraw even deeper into himself.
A gentle, cool breeze touches his face,
proof of a just-opened window.
A soft pat on the back startles him.
"Breakfast, Dear--all your favorites!"
"I know. Could you put me up a plate? Thanks."
"Go with us, please."
"Maybe next time," he lies.
They're gone. Now his Sunday-morning service
begins. After a brief groping, he seizes the hidden bottle,
a substitute for the Word and faith for a
bitter, angry man long ago plunged
by a devastating freak accident
into the terror of permanent darkness.
The wall, impenetrable for family and friends,
soon dissolves into a warm, bubbly puddle.
When the family returns,
they will find a temporarily happy man.
Once again
they will cry and pray in another room.
September 18, 2017, entered in Russell Sivey's In the Dark Contest
March 3, 2018, entered in Laura Loo's Free Verse on Sadness Contest
Categories:
squabbles, family, lonely, sad,
Form:
Free verse
The gnu in the crew
Didn’t know what to do
He was feeling a wee bit bumfuzzle
For the bear in the middle
Spoke pure taradiddle
And he was just part of the puzzle
He called out “gardyloo
Yes, I’m talking to you
You’ve turned us about widdershims”
Then he heard billingsgate
From another shipmate
With language not found in church hymns
Now he felt gollywobbles
From all of their squabbles
And wanted to set the crew straight
“We must turn cattywampus
And follow the compass
And do it before it’s too late.”
Like sickersnees through some butter
An encouraging utter
“I think we can keep up the pace”
And soon by some gubbins
By hard rowing and pumpin’s
They found themselves back in the race
I was asked to write a poem using all those weird words you see. You might have to look them up in a dictionary to get the true meaning of some of the lines.
Categories:
squabbles, language, silly,
Form:
Rhyme
The first time our eyes met
We knew, we just knew
Something clicked
We felt it in our hearts
To live our lives together
Sharing hopes and dreams
Together, inseparable
Lovers in love is what we are
We built a life, a happy one
Said our vows in a holy place
Filled our house with laughter
The patter of tiny feet
Years down the line it sounded more like thunder
Three strapping boys
A dog and two cats
A family is what we are now
Arguments and disagreements
All in plentiful supply
Who will wash the dishes?
Who will walk the dog?
Feed the cats and cook dinner
And do the weekly shop
Squabbles but never with malice
It all works out in the end
Daily life can be a struggle
The house is always a mess
“I didn’t do it!” a familiar moan
Along with “he started it first!”
Mountains of laundry
A strange amount of odd socks
School uniforms neatly ironed
End up crumpled in a pile behind the bedroom door
Holidays abroad, parties at home
We have a wonderful family and good friends
All the luxuries that hard work brings
We socialise with moody teenagers
Play the “guess what’s wrong game”
Tears and tantrums
Laughter galore
You could say we have it all
The stresses and strains of parenting
Makes us forget who we once were
Lovers in love we still are
Whenever we have time alone
The lust has long gone
But we love each other just the same
Because as soon as our eyes met
We knew life would never be the same
Categories:
squabbles, children, family, first love,
Form:
Free verse