Quarrels
There's not much time. All the reasons to quarrel;
used up moments, and never you are right. life
Crumbles when we fight- why not wait to reason,
and then call your rights. Is a thing we all feel…to
win the quarrel against the other. What makes you
think you are always right- you’re full of egocentric
thoughts and lock of selfless. The mirror looks
back- not knowing who reflects. Full of it you!
You detest my opinions and speech, all my intensions
of deed, turn dark. The enemy looks sweeter than you.
I never know which words to speak, where to
start or even how to end...when you try to seduce
my thoughts you end up in quarrels somehow,
it never ends, it never stops, Then you ask “forgive
me” And the humble spirit in me forgives- but again
the war comes back to defeat our peace. Quarrel.
Without you he just can’t be.
poem by Elenushka Toledo
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Related quotes
The Best is Good Enough
I quarrel not with destiny,
But make the best of everything-
The best is good enough for me.
Leave discontent alone, and she
Will shut her mouth and let you sing.
I quarrel not with destiny.
I take some things, or let 'em be-
Good gold has always got the ring;
The best is good enough for me.
Since fate insists on secrecy,
I have no arguments to bring-
I quarrel not with destiny.
The fellow that goes 'haw' for 'gee'
Will find he hasn't got full swing.
The best is good enough for me.
One only knows our needs, and he
Does all of the distributing.
I quarrel not with destiny:
The best is good enough for me.
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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Though a quarrel in the streets is a thing to be hated, the energies displayed in it are fine; the commonest man shows a grace in his quarrel.
quote by John Keats
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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O Turn Once More
O turn once more!
The meadows where we mused and strayed together
Abound and glow yet with the ruby sorrel;
'Twas there the bluebirds fought and played together,
Their quarrel was a flying bluebird-quarrel;
Their nest is firm still in the burnished cherry,
They will come back there some day and be merry;
O turn once more.
O turn once more!
The spring we lingered at is ever steeping
The long, cool grasses where the violets hide,
Where you awoke the flower-heads from their sleeping
And plucked them, proud in their inviolate pride;
You left the roots, the roots will flower again,
O turn once more and pluck the flower again;
O turn once more.
O turn once more!
We were the first to find the fairy places
Where the tall lady-slippers scarf'd and snooded,
Painted their lovely thoughts upon their faces,
And then, bewitched by their own beauty brooded;
This will recur in some enchanted fashion;
Time will repeat his miracles of passion;
O turn once more.
O turn once more!
What heart is worth the longing for, the winning,
That is not moved by currents of surprise;
Who never breaks the silken thread in spinning,
Shows a bare spindle when the daylight dies;
The constant blood will yet flow full and tender;
The thread will mended be though gossamer-slender;
O turn once more.
poem by Duncan Campbell Scott
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How to quarrel
There were two monks who
shared a cell in perfect amity.
Yet they, concerned to perfect their compassion
for all humankind, wished to know all
mankind’s troubles.
Mankind, said the one,
seems always to be quarrelling –
always too ready to pick some fight -
how can this be?
It seems, said the other, that in order to
assert their selfhood and to be ‘somebody’,
they must then invent an enemy,
who seeks to take something from them
that they deserve to have…
so then, they can allot
a ‘mine’ and ‘thine’, and pick
a violent quarrel to prove
their right to be themselves…
they’ll find anything so to label –
‘my tribe, your tribe’—even though
to anyone else, they seem the same –
my religion, your religion – though God is unaware
of any such division or allegiance; or when they’re
really desperate for something to fight about,
‘my postcode public territory,
your postcode public territory’…
Oh dear Lord, said the other monk,
how can we have compassion
for these suffering souls? We’ve never had
a quarrel…
Then we must invent one, said
the first monk: suppose I draw a line
in chalk along the floor of our cell..
and then we’ll call one side, my space,
the other yours…
And this he did. Now, he said,
we can have a quarrel: look,
I’m standing in your half of the room…
No you’re not, said the other,
it’s not my half…yes it is, we’ve agreed,
said the one…
Oh very well then, take it … you win!
said the other.. But there’s
nothing to take! said the first…
The two monks sat and sighed.
They would never know how
human kind could ever own
anything worth the quarrel over.
How difficult a holy life can be.
Have compassion, then, for the plight
of those two monks…
*
[Based on a story from the
early days of the Desert Fathers]
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Quarrel
Let us quarrel for these reasons:
You detest the salt which seasons
My speech . . . and all my lights go out
In the cold poison of your doubt.
I love Shelley . . . you love Keats
Something parts and something meets.
I love salads . . . you love chops;
Something goes and something stops.
Something hides its face and cries;
Something shivers; something dies.
I love blue ribbons brought from fairs;
You love sitting splitting hairs.
I love truth, and so do you . . .
Tell me, is it truly true?
poem by Elinor Morton Wylie
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Dear Mr. Butterfly
As I sit in my thought filled anxiety
I caught a glimpse of that wonderful serenity
Weaving through all the greenery, that was drenched in sunlight
I saw a butterfly mid flight.
No worries, No care, just flying through the air
Just seeming at peace like now my thoughts seem to be,
Oh why, oh why can’t that butterfly be me?
He’s so beautiful, so gracious and free.
Free form the troubles and stresses that life seems to be
Oh dear Mr. Butterfly,
Can you teach me a thing or two?
About how not to worry, be peaceful and true.
Because right at the moment there’s nothing I want more,
Then to close that old door.
Now you see Mr. Butterfly
That I’m in a bit of a rut,
Oh with how much I want to there’s always that but.
That but that always seems to linger about,
It makes me want to scream and shout!
No matter how much I try to defend,
I always seem to make it offend,
But you know what?
I don’t give a stuff!
Yet…there it is again, that but,
That has put me into this rut.
Oh Mr. Butterfly
What can I do? !
It won’t be too long,
But I wont be too soon,
Until all of those worries and stresses are back
And they’ll come hit me with one big SMACK!
Oh what will be next?
They’ll lock me in chains?
Treat me like and animal hidden behind a cage?
NO!
It won’t be that easy to push me back into the scenery.
If you think I won’t fight,
Then you’ve got another thing coming
And I suggest that you should start running,
Because I wont back down!
NO WAY!
NO HOW!
Oh wait Mr. Butterfly
Now wont you come back?
I wanted to thank you for stopping my night turn to black.
Yet even though the sky has gotten darker,
It seems my thoughts have become much lighter.
Thank you Mr. Butterfly
You’re a really good listener,
You’ve made me feel a whole lot blisser.
Now as I head back inside I will say,
Goodbye Mr. Butterfly
One last time.
poem by Jessica Lowe
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We make out of the quarrel with others, rhetoric, but of the quarrel with ourselves, poetry.
William Butler Yeats in Essays, Anima Hominis (1924)
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It was completely fruitless to quarrel with the world, whereas the quarrel with oneself was occasionally fruitful and always, she had to admit, interesting.
quote by Soren Kierkegaard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Nothing more completely baffles one who is full of trick and duplicity than straigthforward and simple integrity in another. A knave would rather quarrel with a brother knave than with a fool, but he would rather avoid a quarrel with one honest man than with both. He can combat a fool by management and address, and he can conquer a knave by temptations. But the honest man is neither to be bamboozled nor bribed.
quote by Charles Caleb Colton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Not Up For That Today
Not up for that today,
No.
Not up for that,
To quarrel and spat
Over traps we set...
To get upset about that now.
Not up for that today,
No.
Not up to discuss how life could have been.
What we've should have done.
Or who committed what sins when.
Not up for that today,
No.
You see that tree budding leaves?
You see that flower blooming with beauty?
You hear the few bees left buzzing?
The birds chirping?
With Spring appearing to bring fresh air?
That's what I am up for this morning.
Not into sharing your agonies,
Dripping to dropp you into despair.
For a round of recurring arguments to share.
No!
Not up for that today,
No.
Not up for that,
To quarrel and spat
Over traps we set...
To get upset about that now.
But take all the time you must...
To agitate yourself,
If that gives you a rush!
I am not up for that to witness,
Not today,
No!
I have a date with life,
I am going to keep!
And you are too late for me to wait,
With your repeated sighs of self defeat.
No...
Not today!
I have a date with life,
I am going to keep!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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An enemies demise
An enemies demise
~
I no longer fight the usual fight
I stand back and watch on
Disinterested at the plays for power
Drawing my attention elsewhere
There are better things, better people
To occupy my thoughts, my time
Words once bitter now relent
My lips silent when questioned
And silence speaks volumes
Without the fight what’s an enemy
But a soul in demise becoming forgotten
Stripped of attention their strength
Its better to speak no ills
Its better to turn the other cheek
The words of peace have taught me
To stand back and simply breathe
My words now dedicated
To understanding a worlds unease
poem by Matthew Holloway
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My Angered Heart
I cant stand this any more
all she wants to do is fight
or that's what it seems like
why cant she just speak any good words
who has that much evil in them
I don't know why I even care
the house is in his name the land to
so is the car and us kids wont be going with her
if they split up
only if Ethan goes with her witch I highly doubt I will go with him
I'm not going to have that boy go with her alone
no way
the first time she fucking touches him I will call the cops
because that's not cool at all so if she wants us she better not touch anyone of us
cause I'm sick of it
I'm sick of her hurting Ethan and just sitting there not doing anything about it
I'm sick of just taking it not fighting back
that's not right
sick of the way she yells at us just to blow off steam every day
sick of hiding my true feelings
she makes me want to run away and\or kill myself
why don't I
a hand full of reasons
I have my baby brother that if I ran away she would kill him
my dog I love her so much and she would die with out me
or I let myself believe because with out her
I would have a broken heart and would die anyway
my education I need it to beet her
to show her that anyone even me could make something good
for a job to support me and my other half (him)
I think that's about all
when I turn 18 I have about 30 days left and I will start packing
taking stuff to Washington soon after that on the weekends
to lead a better life with out her
but I will come back to visit everyone else but her
until I can forgive my her for what she has done to Ethan over the years
I cant come back to see her
if I do my flaming in anger heart would explode
with so much fury
I would kill her
poem by Mrs. Cynosure
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Matter closed
Who said what
Does not matter
It needs two
To make a quarrel.
I said nothing
Matter closed
If you said yes
I said no.
Quarrel begin
And I am
In between.
And I withdrew
Myself
To go the light
That is in my
Reading room's shelf.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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To quarrel with a man of good speech is better than to converse with a man who does not speak well.
Silence
When expression fails
Silence speaks
When words create din
Silence is bliss
While wise speaks
I listen and learn
When fools quarrel
I remain silent
To avoid risk
Of breaking peace,
My silence is
Full of wisdom
For the wise
I speak only
When words are
More valuable than silence.
poem by Abdul Wahab
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Those That KNow Reasoning
You cannot have what isn't yours
You cannot give what isn't yours
You cannot take what wasn't given to you
You cannot own what belongs to no one
You cannot buy what is not for sale
You cannot discover something when there are already people there
You cannot earn something that is worthless
You cannot celebrate victories never won
You should not die for no reason
You should not hate for no reason
You should not quarrel for no reason
You should not defend for no reason
You should not kill for no reason
You should not murder for any reason
You should not destroy for the sake of destruction
You should not build for the sake of building
You should dance for no reason
You should laugh for no reason
You should smile for no reason
You should love for no reason
You should go for the sake of traveling
You should know for the sake of knowing
You should venture out or you will stagnate
You should respect Mother Nature
You should share the planet for it is all we have
You should make peace for this is reason
In war there are no winners, only those who are left
Death, life, love, friends, and family are the only thing worthwhile in existence worthy of celebration
poem by Wilfred Mellers
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^HALFWAY THERE>
I wonder.
I wonder..
I wonder…
if you can precisely see through me
I wonder if you know what im up to what are my missions what are my visions and outcomes
Some of us are halfway there
I wonder how you feel there
If you can turn your body if you are hot or cold
If you know joy and happiness
If you know how to great if you have done what you were supposed to do
I wonder if you are eating if you do know what eating is
I turn my back right there for you couldn't call me back to say hey don't mind me my road ends here
Some of them pretend to know where you are as if they left and came back to tell the tale
When your loved ones come to give you water to drink but its how we were raised
I wonder if you appreciate the flowers planted outside your yard
if you drink the water
if you drink the traditional beer they put around your house
or its people who come to you who does, or those next to you
I wonder… how you bring rain
I then wake up and figure out but still puzzled and go back to sleep to understand
I still wonder if you can differentiate who is a new comer or you are all equal
If politics and relationships exists if love and peace exists if haters sill boasts and the jealous still have their negative thoughts.Half way there the son speaks
Because we consider you sisters and add ann as a name together we call
For we turn our backs on god to do the worlds work
We are half way there
Are you the gods? Who is God if you are?
Apparently you can direct me where to go negatively and you do it positively how did you know im supposed to go there
? Why do you want me to go there?
Why choose to lead me?
Why should I call my child by your name?
If you are full time there then why are you able to enter in my dream and my visions how do you
come up with LOUD VOICE TO MY EARS HOW COME YOU CAN STOP THINGS FROM HAPPENING who enabled you to do such things? If I could understand I wouldn't sit on my bed and type such words
I wouldn't wake up with such questions
I'm halfway there
Some speak good I ask my self why? As you were able they didn't speak good of you
I am THE LEGEND and in that episode of life when it reaches JUST TELL IT LIKE IT IS.
I'm halfway there
One way there
You are halfway there 2 way there
There, there, there,
there, there
there
BY E.G.Makuakua -THE LEGEND
poem by Ernest Makuakua
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Feeling Abandon and Lost Inside
The first thing that I should do is look in the mirror and say what is my name,
This is one reason why I feel so abandon and lost inside,
There is times that I cannot even remember who's my family or friends,
Yes, if you had this feeling lost inside then you would see what it feels like to be me,
As I think of this tears come rolling down my eyes,
Because I feel like my life is hidden away is a deep dark disguise.
Having these feelings or thoughts give me a roller coaster of emotions,
As it makes feel like a freak or a failure or like a creature feature.
Forgetting the memories of my life is hard, and it hurts,
I hope that if you are someone that reads this that you take in what I am trying to say,
Those memories are the ways in life that we will always remember when it is to laugh, cry or smile.
There probably will be a time in our life when those thoughts will be gone.
So please try to take in any and all the memories of your life,
Because as I said earlier it will hard to remember those precious moments,
It is hard, but for me to remember things I have to write my feelings and memories down into words.
For me to even remember life.
Thank you, Lord for giving me this chance to still live.
By Frank Pulver
July 10,2011
poem by Frank Pulver
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Lonely Times
As another long day comes to an end
I face another lonely night without you.
This is the hardest time for me
because lying awake is all I do.
You fill my thoughts of how it used to be
before you went away.
The first time we met and our first kiss,
I replay our life each day.
The day we had our first quarrel
we both broke down and cried.
It's these memories that make me sad
as much as our last goodbyes.
poem by Orlando Belo
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