"quarrelling" poems
the world sits on the wing of a dove
being swallowed whole by a fiery goddess
descended from heaven on a chariot of ivy
i am incarcerated by shaking flesh and itching cloth
the road before me is giant and knows no bounds
the graveyard is warm and wet with spirits and dew
and red clouds are born from fire in the dawn
there is an intelligent horse being ridden by a snarling insect
and this man has come to claim our souls
our sunset blood burns boils blisters until a million animals wounded
i'm still alive, transfigure me into a creator
choke up my nostrils with the scent of your ***
invade my lungs with the burn of your god
caress my toungue with the infinite promise
enter my brain from above, and regurgitate your anxiety on me
slimy worms devour a psychadelic tomato laughing
into transendency, an eyeless eel has dissappeared into a pocket
i speak from balconies, from terrible heights, from hastened windowsills
in a million desperate quarrelling cities
this is where i **** up illusion, i give up to despondency
i ring the great iron bell that resounds with corruption, with hatred, with hideous *** and admiration,
i scream and cavort on rooftops alone with a black & blue midnight
covered in electric lights and gunpowder tongues
here comes the disintegration of my mind
disgraced by the eye of the earth and spat into
a realm of salivating light
i am swimming through digested heartbreak and melancholy livers
sickened by madness and homemade bombs and ******
the rainclouds carry a truckload of babies' hearts
and it's raining eyes over the city now
the cry of the mind escapes from waving mouths in impotence
as millions of bacteria invade the brain
may these lines be answered by the bird of the sun
by the worm at my ear
by the sight of my skeleton
by the stench of ***** in the air
by the dead gong shivering through midnight
by the bleeding eye of abandoned dreams
by the prophets in proclamation
by the god of all my sorrows
Nov 30, 2011
Nov 30, 2011 at 9:55 PM UTC
Come, my Ardelia, to this bowre,
Where kindly mingling Souls a while,
Let's innocently spend an houre,
And at all serious follys smile
Here is no quarrelling for Crowns,
Nor fear of changes in our fate;
No trembling at the Great ones frowns
Nor any slavery of state.
Here's no disguise, nor treachery
Nor any deep conceal'd design;
From blood and plots this place is free,
And calm as are those looks of thine.
Here let us sit and bless our Starres
Who did such happy quiet give,
As that remov'd from noise of warres.
In one another's hearts we live.
We should we entertain a feare?
Love cares not how the world is turn'd.
If crouds of dangers should appeare,
Yet friendship can be unconcern'd.
We weare about us such a charme,
No horrour can be our offence;
For misheif's self can doe no harme
To friendship and to innocence.
Let's mark how soone Apollo's beams
Command the flocks to quit their meat,
And not intreat the neighbour -- streams
To quench their thirst, but coole their heat.
In such a scorching Age as this,
Whoever would not seek a shade
Deserve their happiness to misse,
As having their own peace betray'd.
But we (of one another's mind
Assur'd,) the boistrous world disdain;
With quiet souls, and unconfin'd,
Enjoy what princes wish in vain.
2.2k
The feel of the smoldering, hot sun;
beating, beating down on my skin.
So warm that it turns my flesh a rosy-pink
that stings like an open-wound with salt poured into it.
In the distance there are cries of laughter
and the munchkin-like voice of a child.
I can’t decide if they add joy to this wondrous day
or simply ruin the peaceful, innocent beauty of it.
A view of once dead trees is now starting to erupt with color.
I hear two birds quarrelling in the branches.
And then the obnoxious beeping that just ruined my train of thought.
Apr 26, 2012
Apr 26, 2012 at 6:53 PM UTC
Those guys--the intellectuals-
are bashers----they are bashing
words, ideas and philosophy to death
with their endless quibbling and quarrelling
but for me an uneducated peasant
all that I know and need to know is farming--
planting, sowing, tendering, nurturing and harvesting
the sun rising and setting--for a good season is all I'm hoping.
Mar 18, 2016
Mar 18, 2016 at 7:02 PM UTC
trapped within brick walls of red
and all the quarrelling voices in my head
not a single way of escaping
silent surroundings chaotic mind
for i am a prisoner who hears no one
but myself declined
i am a prisoner stuck in my own soul
but who am i to say such thing
when my conscience is as hollow as can be
my guilt never-ending like the sea
eighty-five bars of steel ceiling
not letting a single trace of light go through
not letting in a single blessing
or a single chance of hope
frozen and cold
like my prisoner heart
innocent on the outside
and a sinner inside
having endless of freedom in the world
but not in my own mind
which is about a hundred times worse
-djs
May 28, 2013
May 28, 2013 at 9:12 PM UTC
Beneath the tree she stood in anger.
Followed by unquenchable hunger.
Then sat down and wept,
for the unity of the family can't be kept.
Quarrelling and fighting are the heads of the family.
Everyone behave unfairly.
Father is no longer a bread winner.
Yet claimed not to be a sinner.
He said it is due to economic situation.
Claiming to improve when things are in
improve position.
But the impatient mother always complain,
like a partner who was infected with *** pain.
She said he gave money to gold
digger.
Seeing him as a he goat ******
The children on the other side are stubborn.
In the society,behave like the stopborn.
Sorrow is the girl's closest friend,
for the family is coming to an end.
Oct 14, 2014
Oct 14, 2014 at 5:25 AM UTC
Someone observe darkness on the edge of the territory
Where our turret is located;
Everyone looking into it for decoding,
Decoding the darkness of our bastion and territory;
Talk shows are going on...
Everyone is quarrelling with their own view point...
One is trying to profess.... ‘darkness emerging for a new embryonic......’
Another one counter act.... ‘darkness means light don’t penetrate ...
... how can you expect some new without stroke of light .........?’
In between someone tweet ... ‘as they behave differently we call them dark....’
Another tweet comes in .......... ‘it is not baryonic.........
.......try to assess the mass..... You will get the answer....’
Debate goes on
Anchor asked for a break
Add comes in.....
..... illuminating the results of health drink to spout brilliance...
two and four wheelers run on.... as if going to search darkness in cosmos....
Put off the TV.......
Stand in the balcony......
Street light elucidate the road....
As if, try to cover up the darkness with gloss....
One pedestrian coming back from a wine bar.......
......and outcry.....
..... all of you are sinner......
Don’t cover up this with light and gloss
Let it be dark as dark matter
Where
Stolen light and gloss unable to penetrate.....
..... let it be remain in the history as murky.....
Night bird crossed the light post ....
....and strike a chord to everyone that deepness of night is growing...
Back to bed room
Laying in bed and put off the eyes expecting a new morning.....
Sep 7, 2015
Sep 7, 2015 at 12:13 PM UTC
i.
the autopsy proved negative
the bullet meant nothing
0.9 caliber with no mouth
pretty red-tainted stain on your tee
they say you took the sedative
two by the morning
ii.
before i drouth
let us go hunting
to a sepulcher with commemorative
decoration, and darling
you wouldn't have to keep your mouth
shut after we go on rampaging and quarrelling
Sep 25, 2015
Sep 25, 2015 at 7:09 AM UTC
We’re saying so much but meaning so little,
Phone screens and egos so fragile and brittle.
Apparently, the Nazis are ‘defending free speech’
And the crowds yell, scream: Impeach Him, Impeach!
Facebook cures all ills,
Philosopher's use characters not quills.
You don’t need pen to paper for us to know that you hate her,
No voice pitch needed to call her a *****
How many words does it take to ruin a life?
Trump once did it in eight,
While Boris perpetuated hate,
Witch Hunt! Fake news! Trouble and strife.
Do I like this or just agree?
This perfect world prepared for all to see.
A world ripped apart by quarrelling leaders of ‘great’ nations.
Are we destroyed by too much or too little communication?
Jan 1, 2020
Jan 1, 2020 at 7:08 PM UTC
This poem was written by Shakespeare's Waste Bin on September 23 ,2012 . He no longer graces our world today but I thought I would share his poem about spring with you .
Shush, I hear a Bluebird ring
Around my head the echoing
Of a butterfly's wing
I hear the Crocus opening out
The daisies as they sprout
Nature's whispering are all about
I hear the Foxglove reaching high
Cotton clouds just passing by
And the heartbeats gentle sigh
I hear the courting of a thrush
The wagging of Reynard''s brush
An opening Rose reveals her blush
I hear wiskers scurrying
Bobtail ever burrowing
And magpies quarrelling
Shush , I hear a Bluebell ring
And with it summer bring
Life and love for everything
Mar 28, 2019
Mar 28, 2019 at 12:24 AM UTC
The battering ram of the underclass cruelty had left pocket marks in his dark skin as the quarrelling customers threw down cash just to ****** it back up as though they were bartering against each other for due time and money owed. He did nothing, save sit there and blink. I thought to myself it almost looked as though he was counting each second in the brief flutter of his eyelids. Open and closed they went, up and down, on and on. The two men were still bickering, each insisting the other owed more than he. My orange juice had begun to sweat in my hand, and I was anxious to eat my late night snack. I considered quietly persuading the two boisterous fellows to conclude their business and exit, but I feared what form their anger might take when reassigned to my annoying interjection. Saying nothing, I waited, testing my own patience and hoping fiercely they could move along. Some fifteen minutes later when all insults and insinuations were spilled out into the open air like oil into the ocean, the duo finally exited and I made my purchases, thankful to be rid of their company, and as I left I saw him sitting, stoic, still blinking rhythmically, not a word nor breath escaping his lips.
Sep 10, 2015
Sep 10, 2015 at 4:34 PM UTC
Lost in you.
like Alice lost in her burrow.
falling, falling
uncontrollable.
embracing your gravity.
i bury my head in your chest.
your smell enters my lungs.
ill keep it locked there forever.
Comfort.
your hand strokes under the old wool that covers me;
your bare skin on mine.
Your hand feeling the ridges of my spine
that i wish would protrude more.
I wish I was perfect for you.
i adore your touch.
I crave your lips.
Speaking singing kissing quarrelling.
i burrow into you like the rabbit into it's home.
i feel safe and protected.
I am.
You are.
My protector.
My force field. Protecting me against the world.
You kiss my cheekbones and collarbones
unknowing that they're my best features
because they are visible, tangible,
evidence.
feeling your kiss is euphoria.
your touch could end the world.
i love you.
i can fall into you.
i can collapse.
I can unfold all my secrets
as if you were to pick a colour and number for me to tell you if you'd be rich some day.
Teenage lovers.
Lost in lust and so the called meaningless poetry of a fresh and first love's so keen sting.
I demolish all walls and guards.
I lose all control. But i feel safe.
you know i don't eat,
you know I'm ******* crazy.
you know in searching for my own controls.
you come back still.
my protector.
my sweet and only love.
Dec 22, 2013
Dec 22, 2013 at 8:11 PM UTC
What now, the loss of limbs in a distant conflagration?
The seeping brains amongst poppy fields?
The myriad nature of violent death, outside of journalistic imagination
A grind of experience on which the lost youth builds.
What now? Within the shredding blasts euphoria
The élan of a soldier, in memoria
Downing drinks in the Stag and Hare
After a tour, ordinary actions reek of tedium
There is, in the conviviality, no rush of adrenalin there
Fermenting trouble establishes a happy medium.
Quarrelling with a man who wears a business suit
Is displaced adventure, smashing his face in is a hoot.
What now? A mate, a favoured friend, dies in the dirt
When whistling a tune, recalling the holiday in Spain, the family,
A shot coursing through his unbuttoned shirt
Deflating his lung, another shattering his knee
When he died, his platoon died too,
Metaphorically; the snipers aim was true.
Bottled up in Basra, aimlessly wandering in Helmand
A shrill event on News at Ten between politics and football,
Another death, another iconic face, the catasphropic end
Of a youthful life. What now? The swift end to a morning stroll
Amongst watching villagers in dry breathless mountains
Empty streams and florescent fountains.
In the terracotta dirt my soul leaked away
My final return was like a funeral celebration,
I said nothing anymore. I had nothing left to say.
I’d given my youth to a sniping cynical nation.
What now? It was over for me in a grasping world-
A gooey puddle spread beneath me as my soul evacuated.
Sep 5, 2016
Sep 5, 2016 at 4:08 PM UTC
It's night and the cloud is heavy with storm
Rain will be here soon, my mother hurriedly
Put away the chickens in their wooden castle
An a few baskets to trap water for tomorrow
The first pebbles drop, hitting the rooftop
Like nuts and bolts from the mechanic village
We rejoice as Heaven empties her stream
And it rains plentiful filling seven big baskets
Then, the hissing starts from a near distance
Our windows clap to the rhythm of the wind
Then the quarrelling begins, the wind wouldn't
Stop hitting our windows and damaging three
Why didn't you shut the windows? My father screamed!
That's the end, he said no more, we slept in the cold
Jun 10, 2015
Jun 10, 2015 at 7:26 AM UTC
My love
I walk
beside two quarrelling lovers
I have you now
But my heart breaks in Lu of your past
She's beautiful
And she wants you
Thinks she loves you
wants to control you
She wanted to be your everything
Please tell me I'm your everything
Cause I want what she wanted
And I'm looking for an answer
Please
If I ever walk away, don't leave me in the rain
Cause my world would shatter
If you didn't truly love me
My love
What promises did you break?
And if we succumbed to the same fate
would you leave me in the rain?
All the things you said
All the things you did
Break my heart
I never knew such pain
could exist in the past
And stabs me now
All the words spoken
my love
Your lust broke my heart
He says
My love
It was lust
I was hurt
I was crushed
She didn't listen
And she lost
My love
I cannot take back my past
If I could, I would
But what I say is true
I love you
With every breath I take
And with that
All hearts are broken
She waits for you my love
And it breaks my heart
She writes venemous words
That eat his soul
I see it wash over him
my lack of trust
holds him back
And our love
Paints her black
Now~
All hearts are broken
Apr 20, 2013
Apr 20, 2013 at 7:40 PM UTC
The lives we cross unknowing
The green-grass paths they wayfare,
Fables of fays and fiends unspoken
Truths belonging to entities of matter,
Flesh bones a body, rhythmed by breath
A heartbeat, pumps red juices carrying
Cleansing oxygen through tireless veins
To a brain, synapses creating thoughts
Interpreting, nervous sensations only
Tempered by hormonal roller coasters
As we defy, the mystic and attempt
To make sense of our existence beyond
The astonishing complex husk leisurely,
Deteriorating in time as we blow on candles
Grasping indeed there is far more inside,
A microcosm endeavouring to reconcile
With an all-pervasive Universe encompassing
As stars fall before our eyes, chronic sunrise,
Twirling incessantly without ever feeling
Dizzy, dazed by questions sparkling intuitively
As we struggle with the limits of earthly
Confinement, the green-grass paths we wayfare,
Health impediments, mental distortions,
Quarrelling with our fellow adventurers
Our frustrations, neglecting to acknowledge
The fays lifting us up whilst unpredictable
Fiends bid to crush when unexpectedly
Unfathomable interior strength unites
Us through experience a succession
Of collective errors misinterpretations
Aware however that we will endure,
Evolve to reach our highest potentials
For a unique welfare granted to all
Creatures, as we set course into the vastness
Of bewilderment, inexplicable space,
Omnific unfurling home to humanity
And all the breaths within.
Mar 15, 2018
Mar 15, 2018 at 8:21 AM UTC
*This poem is pretty long so I am breaking it into 2 parts, maybe 3 we'll see *
Oh my love
What have you done?
The rain falls down
Around two quarrelling lovers
But lust
turned her heart sour
She loves you
But she's done
Looks to you for an answer you can't give
Bid farewell my love
To lust
She walks away from you
She screams for your love
She wants it all
You didn't follow her my love
You didn't answer her plea
But she's obsessed with your memory
tell her you love her
She wants you to want her
Tears of black paint her pillow case
Of nights spend away from you
Tears fade
~new sights~
Determined to destroy you
My love, she feels abandoned
My love
Oh my love~
She broke your heart
Then you broke hers
My love
you didn't listen
now she'll make you hear
She'll make you pay
Tell your secerets
Bash your name
She wont stop
Because it hurts you
*next verse to be continued *
Apr 20, 2013
Apr 20, 2013 at 7:19 PM UTC
The world is changing,
The will of the men is shaking.
Broken hearts are now quarrelling,
Death seems not so startling.
Fighting for love, shaping it to hate
Blessings of the Gods, turning it to shame.
The world is dying, the world is crying
Heal it now or just die trying.
Apr 8, 2019
Apr 8, 2019 at 1:23 PM UTC
Blank spaces and dots protracted
Bouncing in spirals like squirrels
Quarrelling my melted brain cells
Dec 27, 2015
Dec 27, 2015 at 6:21 PM UTC
Repetend gerent war ashes
Laspe humanity plume the
White heat lyre of Benu and
Sin actuates titonomachia quarrelling
Over the actinic lymph mother, Gaia
Succumbing unto the familiar solstice
Of Pandora's box wist' nights
Ricketiness randan morn' curtail
The nebulous clouds of lauded occidere
Homeric laughter to stick in ones gizzard
Sans the wraith brazen head to steal
A march upon forty feeding like one
On the vegetable lamb of Tartary
Ridding annulment.
ELEETE J MUIR
Dec 21, 2017
Dec 21, 2017 at 6:17 PM UTC
Hope and Dream are two sisters:
Bickering and quarrelling all the time.
Neither believes the other is better.
Neither trusts the other to the machinations
Of time. Self-dependent and codependent:
Such an odd duo they are at times!
They are their worst accusers by nature,
Yet they are partners in crimes.
Hope often puffs up the dream,
While Dream takes Hope seriously.
Both sisters then fall out suddenly
In the aftermath of a confrontation
With reality. But when Dream is broken
Hope picks up the pieces
Joins them up with broken shards
Of a resurrected self.
Dec 17, 2020
Dec 17, 2020 at 6:58 AM UTC
When they see you and guy a-walking,
They call it courtship;
When they see you and a guy a-talking,
They pass knowing smiles and well-meaning quips.
When both of you are a-quarrelling,
They say that the rough must come with the smooth;
Before long, one is a-sorrowing –
Not for the row (as they think) but over a lost tooth.
And then both of you stop seeing each other,
They think it such an unpardonable crime;
All that time trying to bring you together…
‘Tis a shame the wedding bells are ne’er to chime.
Sep 21, 2018
Sep 21, 2018 at 3:30 AM UTC
Five hundred miles to kneel in bitter, November snow,
silence, pierced abruptly, by magpie's chattering screech,
naked oak fingers rattling a chorus of disapproval,
withered bouquets, fast, with weathered sanguine ribbon,
nestled amid the glistening russet tapestry,
tired gold leaf adorns matted marble of black jet,
holding the word, mother, on trembling, blue lips,
Sepia recollections, eviscerated by the butcher of reality,
quarrelling emotions, sporting stark tattoos of injustice,
the stench of mother's milk, turned to rancid butter,
icy pearls, burning down scarlet, wind chapped, cheeks,
prompt visions of her in a delicate, white lace gown,
alone, cold in the ground, the worms feeding on her flesh.
Jan 11, 2018
Jan 11, 2018 at 7:31 PM UTC
Dear Women:
Do you want your man to love, respect and stay faithful to you alone? I have a love portion you can give him. The ingredients of the love portion include:
1. Always look beautiful and attractive.
2. Be diligent and always make sure the house is tidy.
3. Cook delicious meals for him at all times and always include his favourite food.
4. Give him good *** and romance.
5. Always pray for him.
6. Be humble and Submissive.
7. Avoid quarrelling with him and if there is any form of quarrel, always settle it before the next day.
8. You must be able to ENDURE. A woman that cannot endure will never last in a man's house.
9. Love his family members like your own family.
10. Always contribute to the development of the home. Don't have the mentality that it is the man that must buy everything. He will respect you for this.
NOTE THAT: Even If you use the most powerful charm on a man and your character is on a zero level, his eyes will surely be opened one day.
Jul 21, 2015
Jul 21, 2015 at 8:08 AM UTC