Feud Poems - Poems about Feud

The love that knows no boundary set by clan; The clans that know no love except for war; The flower that dares to bloom, but never can; This then the story Shakespeare told, in core. And what the nature of a petty feud? Where pride replaces peaceful, prosperous life; Where little things as mountains are construed, And things far greater die within...

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Leisurely running Scrumptious donuts and ice cream Pounds pile on me ...

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___________ The heroine indulging in quarrels (kalaha) with her beloved, might well suffer remorse later, and try to end it all. __________________ Not dagger, even aversion robs life, My Love, I know it is no less a knife, Pray forget my harsh words, Let’s be the same love birds. O try and look me through my...

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Step Forward McCarthy vs. Hellman What is this The Digital Crucible of Truth? On a stage of scrutiny, titans c l a s h— McCarthy's words, a web of accusations S l i c e through an algorithmic landscape a viral...

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Prelude to what….. I see you, / you / yes, come into my…… laboratory of alchemist mystical languaging. where arsenic spills into the whirlpool of thought and savage syntax shatter like glass on concrete. Where Titans clash their pens both spear and shield signifier and signified in eternal dance. What truths lie hidden in the battle's tolling roll call. Just what...

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Talk of an Oasis feud is over, Brit-pop the corks for the supernova, fair play to those Burnage boys, tour dates set to make some noise, they'll walk in sunshine, champagne and clover. ...

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what we would conclude did find a horrible feud which we had ensued ...

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The battle well fought, Blood drips from the blade. Clans kill each other, A grave history made. Women and children weep, Men driven by fear. Prejudice handed down, Death year after year. The torch forever blinds, The flame of hatred burns. A sad lesson taught, But no one ever learns. With malice in their hearts, The war will never end. The righteous always rise, To do it once again....

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Over solemn matters men brood. Whoever does not clearly crude; One is anxious to win a feud: The face of Jude facing The Rude And I say: it’s the right mood; The countenance of The Shrewd, For when it is shrewd follows food. Over the life-changing I brood As I wish to hear The Good; Not like leaves shake where I’ve stood...

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I was eight when she first talked about her mother, Thought she was raised and bred by only her father. I had known her father since I was an infant, Thought while growing up, mother was recalcitrant, I couldn’t ask questions before she departed, ‘Twas later I knew she had had her depleted. I knew she had taken her...

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no one recalls what the fight was about or why it happened it divided the family in three places funerals and weddings are no longer happy events those who will not be with others picking and choosing to come based on who else is showing up this has gone on for twenty-nine years their parents are older their dream is to have...

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I waited, anticipated Hopes were high, bloated It was too much to ask, inflated I lowered my sights, deflated Tried not to be hurt, shielded Numbed my senses, phlegmatic Checked the date and time, could be wrong I fought back and forth, sparred Willed a lunge, parry, riposte, touché But, when it came, it fizzed The expectation feud, blew out the candles....

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Boss is always right! Yes, we do keep this in mind. But when we fight, we are always right! And that is the moment we need perfect words to impress and to win …no, we can’t afford to lose…for it becomes a matter of do or die! Gear up, lets prepare to rant and fight! Yah!...

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A sunken tombstone lay on either side, The wall itself enswathed in moss and fern, Fragmented, as the bond of blood which died Before the grave envelopped each in turn. Two brothers who had once been closest friends Who ran through fields and forests hand in hand, Too proud and hard of heart to make amends, Had forced a subdivision of the...

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JOE VERSUS THE RACCOON By Kate H. Stark Each night ‘twas the same old proverbial shout. “Hey Joe, will you please take the garbage bags out?” Joe sighed, rolled his eyes as he walked toward the door. To take out the trash was his least favorite chore. And why, you might ask, does he dislike the task...

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