Squabbling Poems | Examples

Birds, Bees, Creatures and Nature

The wise old owl with an eagle eye,
Who spied a blackbird as it flew by
The vulture could smell the decay
Of the carnage killed that day
Flesh and blood ooze from the prey
Of bodies and carcases on display

The hungry vulture swooped,
To join other vultures in the group
Squabbling over a piece of meat
Although there was plenty left to eat

These greedy birds ate and ate,
Not caring for the dreadful fate,
Of the birds of prey
As long as they fulfilled their need to eat
It was only then they flew away.

refugees

Refugees
I know of a forest where all trees are equally tall
and the distance between them is strangely wide
 is so they can get the same amount of sun and
rain will fall evenly on plants and mossy ground.
Trees grow fast here  next year, harvested
 and a new sling planted.
For the birds, rabbits, and foxes that had made
a home at what can be called a new estate will
have to move or find shelter in the old forest
that is full of thorny bushes in deep shadows and
and vulgar boars that never had a bath unless
caught out in the rain
Nests will be too near others, and there will be squabbling
rabbits and foxes have to make new burrows
and they will be snubbed by the old dwellers who
will call them lazy or even worse, the new rich should
They have shiny fur or colorful feathers and will
not be sent a Christmas card that year.

A Prey Circle

A feathered crowd of crows
jostle together over roadkill.

They peck and tear,
lift a little in the air
allowing other beaks
to stab at a morsel.

Iridescent black wings
flap in the cram and bustle.
Above them a hawk hovers.

The raptor waits,
the crows will eventually
fall to squabbling,
some will fly away cawing,
others will strut the highway
seeking other scraps.

Then the hawk will descend
to rummage the remains
only to fly off quickly
with a piece of gristle,

it often being content to be
the prince of the sky
and the servant of the mob.

Secret to Success

The secret to success is to simply stop.

Stop seeking attention.
Stop arguing with those who gossip.
Stop listening to lies.
Stop squabbling for your rights with stupid people.
Stop searching for the negative in...anything.
Stop fighting small fights.
Stop sweating the small stuff.

Just. Simply. Stop.

Spats in Opposition

If he who does not know kept silent, discord would cease.
                                                           ~ Socrates


Squabbling with words; spats in opposition
can bring about discord and suspicion
Christians should be able to live in harmony 
or their accord and union will atrophy

What kind of world must humans think to mold
in bringing warmth and not a chilling cold
fashioning traits with kind words of diction
not spawning hurtful thoughts, causing friction

Antagonism unfolds to reveal hostility
ruining mutual trust and tranquility
With staunch optimism,  I faithfully pray
that no chasm of rancor will whorl my way

For as long as the risen sun casts mornings in glory
we will not bind our souls with fear and worry
Each night a profusion of stars shines from above
I pray one day we will all share brotherly love

*My head is not buried in the sand, and I don't wear rose-colored 
glasses, but I'd rather have positive thoughts than negative ones 
about our tomorrows.

Committee of Vultures

Committee of Vultures

There they sit squabbling
Up in a tree or on the ground
Waiting greedily for the next carcass
Laughing, they don’t care how it got dead

Always waiting to rip to shreds
Pushing and shoving to be the first
They yearn for blood but it's rotting flesh
They will pick and pick, till the bones are bare

Their sharp beaks, squawk who’s best
They preen their feathers ever so proud
The putrid stench still sticks to their feathers
In their committee they huddle, another to devour

No one Wants to Clean Uncles Garage

Uncle’s garage was full of junk that made us shout.
My nephews fought over who had to clean it out.
I’ll do it, his industrious grandniece said, don’t pout!
She found a mint 1934 Packard 12 worth money no doubt.

Now the squabbling and screaming was about to begin.
I think he left everything to me said his nephew Fin.
You signed it over to me, reminded his sister, Gwen.
Because of all her hard work, she was the one to get the win.

War Games

There's a flock of squabbling gulls
perched on a garden shed roof,
twenty or so vying for space on that limited space.

Every few moments one gull will dethrone another.
The displaced gull will circle above the shed,
then dive down,
to loudly eject another avian squatter.

Is this a war game?
I recall, as kids
we would play King of the Castle.
It was always such raucous fun
until a fight between us boys broke out.
Bloody noses and boxed ears
were our own kind of war play.

The gulls ruffle a few feathers,
yet sharp beaks are ever ready
to strike.

Rehearsing a laughing violence
while plotting to murder a phantom king
is not only a human game.

Going At It

going at it this morning
drowning out quiet -
squabbling love birds

Wtf

I rose early, to sit on the shoreline of the sea
and watch the sunrise
the salt air is refreshing on the lungs
and the scent of the beach is earthy
gulls and pelicans have already arrived
and are squabbling over a morning meal of fish
the waves are casually rolling toward me
in usual fashion
it is serene and peaceful
as I enjoy the morning and see a thin red line
on the horizon
it is a perfect morning to wait for dawn

and then I heard it, the roar of a jet engine
as it crossed the sky
shattering the peaceful ambiance of my senses
the loud duck-like clatter of tourists
plodding their way across my beach of peace
tossing their metal lawn chairs about
arguing over who paid what for breakfast
my eyes rolled back 
and I whispered in my head as my neck bent down
my eyes closed and WTF ran through my mind
like an out-of-control locomotive

6/3/23 contest WTF
sponsor John Lawless

Time At the Beach

Soft sands caress my feet, a comforting touch,
The waves crash ashore, in ways I love so much,
Washing my footprints away, leaving no trace.
The beach cleanses its face with its embrace.

As the waves run out they trace a veil of lace 
Respecting the grace of this sacred space.
The home of mater mare, where all life began
Within the warm primordial soup sea scan.

Children build castles with buckets and spades,
Lovers stroll along, hand in hand, playing charades,
The gulls pitter patter, squabbling and cawing
Pecking up morels and scraps, with their marauding.

The seashore beach is a place of solitude and peace
Where all your toils and troubles, for a time, cease.

-------------
19 May 2023
For: Sonnet Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Sotto Poet 
-------------

Birdwatching

Each morn at dawn, I take my perch
Awaiting apt brightness to start my search.

A flash of wings, catches my eye,
As tiny flocks of birds flutter on by.

It's a busy time as hungry birds feed,
Diving below, poking in holes, rummaging in weed.

With binoculars at the ready, I spy
A flock of godwits flying high.

A gaggle of terns chatting away on sand banks
Sea gulls squabbling with wrens on the flanks.

The air is filled with a cacophony of sound
As each bird calls out its plea to be found.

In this peaceful time for me, I feel at ease
Lost in the bird count, squatting on knees

As the sun begins to rise up high in the sky
I bid my feathered friends goodbye

Until tomorrow, when I’ll be back
To watch the birds again, after a nap in shack.

Future Imperfect

Good morrow merry citizens
Here’s another Brexit gain
We may have our country back
But we can’t go live in Spain.
Record numbers now
Are all giving thanks
For the almost empty
Essential food banks.
The poor are getting poorer
The rich getting richer
In our Free New Britain 
A sad disgraceful picture.

The papers are full daily
Of the unedifying sight
Of the squabbling royals
And their family fight.
The PM’s a Billionaire
Thanks to his wealthy wife
With little understanding of
The poverty of modern life.
The National Health Service
Is shrinking with each day
Just a rundown of our country
Sinking into moral decay.

As you dip your stale crust
Into your tepid weak tea
Just cast a thought to
How things used to be,
We British are at our best
With our backs to the wall
Tugging respectful forelocks as
Our betters openly nick it all.
But, be upstanding good people,
Celebrate the joyous thing
We can still find the millions 
To crown our latest king.

Yorkshire Spring Day

Late afternoon sunshine streaming
Through the swaying green net  
Of this years growth of hedge 
I’ve not got round to cutting yet.
Got to get my finger out 
Because I know it’s best 
To get it done and dusted 
Before the birds start to nest.

The grass has had its first trim
It’s looking lush and green
The garden’s starting to look
The best that it’s  ever been.
Last year I sunk a small pond
At the sheltered edge of the lawn
With a bit of luck this year
We’ll have plenty of frog spawn.

There’s a Dove in the tree
And it’s gently cooing away
I can hear voices of children 
Squabbling as they play.
Hard frost this morning
An almost magical sight
Seeing the grass covered 
With a coat of gleaming white.

This is semi rural Yorkshire
As afternoon slips into night
On an early spring day when 
Everything has been just right.
You can wander the world
Always searching for more
I’ll stay and enjoy the beauty
Found outside my back door.

A National Vibe

A country needs a culture
    a recognizable national vibe

  Without one what you've got
    is a bunch of squabbling tribes

• Short Squabbling Poems
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