Long Squabbles Poems
Long Squabbles Poems. Below are the most popular long Squabbles by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Squabbles poems by poem length and keyword.
"Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon 'em."
— Twelfth Night, Act II, Scene V
Some are born to crowns and gold,
With power strong and wealth untold.
Some will climb, with sweat and pain,
To carve their names and stake their claim.
And then there’s me—a simple bloke,
Who’d rather nap than wear a cloak.
Greatness came, it knocked, it screamed,
I locked the door—it must have dreamed.
For who would trade a peaceful life,
For throne-room squabbles, royal strife?
Give me books, a pint, some cheese—
Let others rule, I’ll take my ease.
So take your greatness, shove it far,
I’d rather be right where I are.
There shall never be another dawn…
Never another day to greet your family
Or hold the ones you love dear
You will never know the coming nightmare
Or look into the eyes of damnation
Never greet a great new day with optimism.
Or know a benevolent god.
There shall never be another dawn.
Never again read the writing on the wall.
Never watch a great play of humanities tragedies
Never feel the golden rays of a setting sun
Or stroll the moonlit beaches under the watchful eye of a silver moon
There shall never be another dawn.
No more radio, no more broadcast of television
Or digital streaming of data across a worldwide Web.
Your nation’s will be memory, your leader's ash.
Gone are the petty squabbles of infantile Presidents.
There shall never be another dawn
Forget your faith in an empty deity of crosses and bleeding scared hearts.
Or bald men deep in their inner universes.
Forget all you have learned, all the books you have read.
Never dream dreams again.
No more tears.
No more suffering.
No more nightmares.
Horrors.
Or despair.
There shall never be another dawn.
Dear Sisters, because we are one
in that we share our DNA,
I put you all together as the “You,” that I love.
I love you for the fact that we all were raised together,
facing every turbulent event in our mother’s younger years:
the days she suffered with a mentally ill husband -
the father we adored who did not know how to love us back.
Together we played in our own private world,
comforting each other as our mother weathered storms
which eventually caused her to flee back to her home in the Midwest.
I recall our days on our grandparents’ farm -
the walks along the lane bordered by raspberry bushes
where we filled our pails eagerly with berries,
arriving home with red berry faces!
The games we played, the way we raced
through Grandpa’s corn fields, discovering
secret meadows and streams.
I recall the days when we moved with our mother to town.
How we walked everywhere we went without a car:
the walks in frigid temperature, the walks holding bags of groceries
and getting lost sometimes as we accustomed ourselves
to our route to school.
I remember playing at the pool, swinging on swings
at parks and playing all the time with each other
and the friends we included as our social circle grew.
The day our mom remarried, we welcomed new children
into our circle of friendship, but nothing compares to
the original sisters, the ones who came from our mother’s womb.
Today we are all different in many little ways,
and yet we are also (in so many ways) the same!
The way we chortle or use our hands to gesture:
I see our mother in those things.
The way we talk and talk and talk.
Endless conversations, squabbles (which always end amicably),
and that deep understanding in each other’s eyes.
In your eyes, I see my mother and I see myself.
You, my sweet sisters, are the love of my life!
March 8, 2023
For the "For You, Love" Contest of Regina McIntosh
My blue hair women paintings are surprisingly fun,
But the most interesting are my blue black haired combo.
I know this because I am staring at them now.
Pony-tailed, hatted, hanging, one doing the mambo.
I always thought the pink hairs would be the most “ut”.
My pink cats and dragons have them completely topped.
If I counted all the flowers and hearts on my walk.
I would laugh at my ludicrous self, that I could have never stopped.
Painting has been a most enjoyable hobby to me.
It has kept me out of relatives’ squabbles galore.
Entertaining me in every which way and wild.
Keeping me away from cleaning which I truly abhor.
3/28/21
Sanitized a lot of messes with Lysol
Saw it all through my eyeballs
By being logical during daytime or nightfall
Did no good to dawdle
Helped to be thoughtful
Experienced the pleasant and the awful
Didn't always benefit one side or the other during debacles
It happened so much, I could write novels
So many squabbles
One was victorious, the other one wobbled
Head held high, or hobbled
Occasionally left me boggled
I didn't just watch through my goggles
Odors and fragrances picked up through my nostrils
Among living species and fossils
Some people docile and others hostile
Doing the bare minimum or going full throttle
Kicked the habit, or really hitting the bottle
Some people are humble and others think they're a model
The impact it had was minor or colossal
Putting others down because it makes them feel bigger
Obsessed with image and the figures
People so quick to point a finger
And to pull the trigger
Danger always lingers
Life filled with drama, like Jerry Springer
Been through the wringer
Another dinger
And zinger
Hook line and sinker
Still a hardcore drinker
And deep thinker
Among gentle animals or aggressive lifeforms with or without stingers
I continue to tinker
Covering a lot of ground, like a sprinkler
Still drinking beers
Here's a cheers
To my peers
Heard so many truths, rumors and lies through my ears
Over the years
Occasionally changing gears
Expressing happy or sad tears
While wielding shields, swords or spears
Getting rid of any fears
And finding a way to persevere
Once the smoke finally clears
The world was in a happy or sad state
People that do or don't have faith
Life going fast pace
Caught in the rat race
Pushing for first, not last place
For a long time, I've been in bad shape
And half-baked
Now that we got that straight
Regarding the cuisine of the world, I've barely had a taste
There was a time when despite regular bun fights,
Sexist attitudes,
Unrealistic demands by key players,
Money problems,
Drunkenness,
And petty squabbles,
The end product,
That flashed across Cinema and TV screens
Lifted our spirits,
Made us cry,
Made us believe,
Gave us hope,
Challenged us in ways like never-before,
Offering up large doses of empathy,
And understanding.
It enriched a vast number of lives ,
And made the world seem less dull,
Perhaps even less threatening,
More comforting.
We could relate to the message,
The imagination,
Passion and will power of those who gave us,
Something larger-than-life,
And made us care,
For the better I think.
Now has come our winter of discontent,
With no melting snows in sight,
And new types of production teams,
At the forefront,
With no fire in their belly,
Or a burning desire,
To stay true to the art form,
And certainly no concept of,
How many of those who live alone,
And don't get out much,
Are overdosing on reality TV shows,
Like sewer squad,
Hoarders,
And the real housewives,
(Not yet extinct apparently).
And for those who do go out but shouldn't,
There are the reality cop car chases,
Or real murders in all their gory details.
But one has to believe,
As the signs are there,
At places that are big enough to squeeze in an extra person or two,
The Larger than life shows are making a come back,
(Thanks god they kept copies of some of them).
Even for the modern production teams,
Lacking in imagination,
It surely won't be long before,
Reality hits home,
And we can only hope,
That when it does,
There will be enough money left,
For someone prepared for a bun fight,
To produce an epic or two.
The truth is there are
“Very fine people on both sides”
(and of course scoundrels on both sides too)
Because that’s the way people are
Good and bad, sometimes both
Depending on context.
It’s been this way in every conflict
From World Wars to local elections,
Family squabbles and schoolyard brawls.
And it’s how it will always be
Which should give us all a token of solace
No matter which side we’re on
Since neither good nor evil will ever win out.
Which means the conflicts will never end
Which should give some degree of solace
To those who love to fight.
But here we are today in a situation
Where something has to give
Someone has to be held accountable
Prosecuted, tried, judged and sentenced
For crimes against country and fellow man,
And some of those deserve to die.
Because if people don’t suffer for their crimes
Then the crimes will just grow
And become an accepted part of life,
The way business gets done
In the halls of power
And on the streets.
And this is where we are today
At a delicate juncture of power and justice
Having to decide which thread to pull
To make the changes
And yet somehow not collapse
The whole house of cards.
(2/25/25)
Pensive tempered thought
in light morning fog that picks a fight
as early birds forage for contentment
My graveyard stroll on pathways
with sooty traces of wet
small puddles that smear the ground
like a painter's blotched canvas
I am drawn to dark depths
to peer into limits
into a grim hole
swampy centre where blue feathers float on water
a Jay has squeezed its way to risk
startled, it flees in squabbles
above the damp hard clay in mounds
earth peaks that blot intrusion
a script waiting
till a quiet peace beckons someone
mourners at the edge
heads bowed to slacken the ropes of grief
Blue hole
the end of pathways
tender pause
breaching boundaries
of what we cannot snare.
Poem composed: May 29, 2021
Hello, out there!
Earth here,
how'd you be?
Just dropping a line
to tell you about
us earthlings,
I guess that's what
you'd call us,
if your telescope
things could see us standing here
looking up at you.
We're the Blue Planet, one of eight,
orbiting our yellow-dwarf star in
the milky way, sending all sorts
of electronic beams out
that you can probably hear and get annoyed by.
Our Plant Water, which it should be called,
is covered in blue watery seas and white clouds
with brown land masses in between,
dotted with green forests of trees,
crops and grey cities, farms and houses
that we've built for habitation.
Our life form is based on
carbon and water, and is called organic.
I'm not sure if that's your stuff
as well, but never mind,
it matters little provided,
we can see, hear, feel and
communicate with each other.
Not sure if you got the Gold Disk
we sent to you previously packed
with music, poems, pictures and
all sorts of emotional, heart-felt tomes,
and mathematical, images and
thinking stuff, but if you missed it, I'll try
to summarize it thus:
We are bipeds with two arms and legs.
We have two sexes male and female,
we call them, there may be in betweens as well.
We live for about 100 of our earth years,
We pair-up as couples, breed and have
two to four babies during our lifetimes.
This keeps our populations going
through the generations since our
species arose about 300,000 earth years ago.
In some ways we've been too successful
and we have overpopulated our planet,
and caused much devastation to our
environment and to the other living things here.
We mostly love, sing, laugh and enjoy
being here, and get along pretty well,
but like most folks I guess, we fight
and kill each other too, mostly for
beliefs and kinships, and squabbles,
about scarce resources, religions, races, hates,
and political beliefs, that lead
to fighting and wars, that never seem
to end. Peace is so hard to find, especially lately.
But we reach out to others when we can
and try to make friends and have fun.
But beware my alien friends:
If you ever come this way for a visit
we're likely to blow you outta the sky
first and foremost, and leave the questions
of why and what-fors, for later.
Another thing I should mention in closing:
We may not be still here when you come.
The key is under the doormat.
Sisters and brothers, a curious pair,
Sometimes they love, and sometimes they glare.
Hand in hand, they explore the world,
Or argue whose flag should be unfurled.
Giggles erupt over secret jokes,
Then squabbles brew like stormy folks.
Building forts with pillows and sheets,
Sharing whispers and sweet treats.
Wrestling matches on the floor,
Slamming doors, then making s'mores.
Borrowing clothes without asking first,
Feeling both blessed and sometimes cursed.
Adventures shared, both big and small,
Catching each other when they fall.
Missing deeply when apart,
Reunions that warm the heart.
Years fly by, they sprout and grow,
Their bond evolves and continues to flow.
From rivalry to strongest friends,
The sibling journey never ends.
Through laughter, tears, and wonder too,
They shape each other, through and through.
A complex love, a lasting tie,
Siblings' bond will never die.