Best Point Of Reference Poems
( Repost )
Somehow, her eyes expand with the disobedient sky
and there, she senses urchins filling water on the lake
her feet and thighs slide up changing hues,
with receding incarnations of the moon.
She bends down gazing at images on the lake
as limbs turn into seaweeds, a mermaid in pain
changing hues in the crystal white of sky…
and the moon with slices of split mirrors burn
on wiggles of unscented tresses in water.
She dips her hands to catch the sleek tail in a plunge
knowing not a word to describe the reflection on the lake,
and witness the need to flow randomly in its
entrance through the expanse of one silver sky…
trying to recover glimpses reflected in the water.
Without point of reference to unknown images,
she vaguely remembers how transparently liquid
the changing hues of the moon become watery
like a hint of coagulated blood on a mermaid’s lake...
and the laughter of the sky drips into imaginings.
.......................................
* Written for a fantasy contest that was discontinued;
its theme required entrants to describe one's mirrored
image of the self. Few comments ranged from " Nice, but I
didn't get it" to " You seemed to have overused the word
"water?" In hindsight, I asked myself," what
were you thinking? This is sloppy!"
Jerry T Curtis' This Poem S***s Contest
Many of us search in religion a point of reference that is a spiritual course that direct all of our life. As if we were going on a road and on this we would find at a certain moment at an intersection therefore we do not know which is the right road but the only certainty that we have is that where we are now is not where we want to arrive so it be necessary that we choose one and we direct on this.
I’ve been adrift on the sea, a lost soul of ideal inspiration
Tossed asunder amongst realities harsh waves of the incomplete,
A disembarked being, caught at the mercy of a thundering riptide
Of indecision, floundering, drowning alone, with no life preserver
To cling upon!
Rolling waves crashing against my bare exposed mental flesh,
I’ve know the deeply threshing under currents of the starving mind,
Of the uninspired, the de-mused, without imaginations glory,
An orphaned child without thoughts infusion!
Once I disembarked on a sinking craft, a vessel without sail or wind,
Ideally wondering having no true course, or no dead reckonings landing
Point of reference!
A voiceless refuge unable to scream for help, to and fro so did
I just rock upon the waves of homeless, and helpless,
In this self- inflicted imprisonment so did this castaway dwell,
In this empty ocean, alone mariner aboard a sinking ship!
But than a far off light shown, it burned at my blind eyes,
With such brilliance did it so shine, as if by a magic I
Couldn’t understand or comprehended, my tiny boat
Find its way into a safe sheltering port, many open
Hands reached out to this lost soul and pulled me
Upwards towards inspirations dry land!
Voices spoke gently unto me in the whispering winds
Of imagination, your free here, you’ve come home
At last, soar, fly be at peace now drifter, you are welcome
Here amongst thy kindred!
Standing at the dock of acceptance, I turned and watched
My tiny ship torn apart by the hurling waves of change,
Then I realized that many others were still left on this
Ocean of aloneness, and how lucky I was to find my
Way home at last!
I’ve found my place in this big old world at last,
Here where I can express myself,
Amongst others whom have excepted me for myself,
On this island called the internet,
In a cyber-family, amongst my friends and kindred,
I’ve finally come home at last, in a place
Mixed with diversities beauty,
In this poetry soup of humanity!
Here I’ve tried my anchor, no more a wander,
Just a voyager remembering, looking upwards
At an inspirational sky and finally able to bath
In the guiding wake of my own imagination,
And sharing it with others of my own poetic
Experience, thank you for the welcoming,
I’m home at last!
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
I wonder how to understand
The journey finding the meaning
Of every day mundane living
Perpetual repetitiveness of cycles
That we are stuck in from the
Moment of our birth
All the way to the death
I wonder what keeps people
Going when there is no destination
Other than certain death
And there is no way to find
Anything that would serve
As a point of reference
Even if everyday reality feels
Totally solid and real
Behind the illusion of veil
There is nothing we can
Recognize or even fathom
How is it living in the world
That is inexplicable mystery
Locked away from our senses
People manage to embark
On a journey and sustain
Everyday living stream
Even when there is nothing
To hold on and keep living
We keep dreaming
And keep trying
And keep dying
Without knowing
Why we are doing this
At a glance (glimpse)
To the average tourist
the wall is (was) the divide
between east and west
Checkpoint Charlie
the obvious choice
point of reference
almost irreverent
in its poignancy
To see the cultural divisions
needs close obs, more diligence
The guest workers from the east
restless from centuries of abuse
and ethnic cleansing
abrade against western ways
I hate you, I don't know why
I hate you but I do
surfaces at night and
the policing of this only adds to this
increases the tension
The Ufer bars, the nightclub
under counter guns and hand outs
of pills that could kill and do your intellect
are all part of this
In a harmonious kind of way
this melds and mashes and makes up
what is Berlin
a very lovable and culturally
diverse city.
Time
Time is a measurement point of reference in our lives
It is measured in hours, minutes and seconds
We are in fact a slave to time, in our daily lives
Everything is based on time, meeting people, working hours
Medical appointments, they are all controlled by time
Even when we go to sleep and wake up the next day
Time is there to remind us of the things we have to do
We are all slaves to time and we are stuck with it.
When we are late for appointments we rush to get there
Even to a point were we risk our lives to it's beckoned call
Yes we all wish we could be the master of time
A wish that we all know is impossible as we know that
We can never beat the odds to do this.
Time is and always will be a necessary evil in society
Because if there was no time, the World would be a mess
So now you have it, we can't live with it or without it
Time is here to stay and we are all slaves to this unseen enemy.
perilous waters….
first star of evening tide
point of reference
For Annalise Brigham's contest
"What My Eyes See"
Point of reference never came.
I waited eons just to see
The clever end of destiny.
To me it always looks the same...
Though gender changes time to time,
Salacious souls we re-define.
The numbers tell what's in the name.
Let intuition's second sight
Guide the lost toward heaven's light.
Are we the fools and life's a game?
We seem to dwell on other's flaws
A tune well played by karmic laws.
We endure life's eternal flame.
To live and learn can be sublime;
Our birth and death are both divine.
Point of reference never came.
To me it always looks the same...
The numbers tell what's in the name.
Are we the fools and life's a game?
We endure life's eternal flame.
1-3-2010
(Constanza form)
I feel the turn of fickle stars in my palms,
wrenching their way out,
challenging the ambition of a sinner's grasp.
It all falls loose;
sand at the feet of eternal eyes,
staring back into the shadows of memory.
Dreams struggle for breath,
suffer desperation, lack of color.
And in their whisper I squint like
an old man trying to find his way
back to the trail's head.
But in these woods I have no bearing;
no point of reference, only empty hands left wanting,
too arthritic to hold any sort of luster
or salt of tomorrow's promise.
And so, I am left to wait...
Suspect to the charm of a menacing horizon
that promises nothing but a burning reminder
of what I could not hold onto.
-James Kelley 2014, All Rights Reserved.
They call it shuffling of the mind
when other eyes are turned;
Other visions call upon the history
that is their very own, allowing us
to see, to share, to grow.
Onrushing Earth
will ride the tides of time
disclosing newer cries of childhood;
hearts will sing again their Kyries
while brotherhood is unrelenting,
we may join the new-made antiphon
where every song is triumph;
each surrender is a victory.
There is risk in such a stand.
There is plenitude among the powers
of the strong, righteous in their zeal.
There is challenge. There is testing.
There is no defense.
Mayhap, there need not be.
~
A sea of seething, frothing sky
Condensed, concluded by the night
No point of reference, and no self
Can lie undrowned in these soul-wells
A faded light
Yet fades from sight
Is lost within the self-same rain of sky
The misty veil that shrouds all earth tonight
The sea of tufted, densed elixir
Floats beneath me as I see
The earth now fade forever from my sight
As I rise, and rise both from and into night
Form:
If never your situation has resigned you to expiration
Then professing “What he should have done” is quite the meaningless declaration
So if never you’ve felt the frigid breath of death upon your own neck
Your second guess should be curbed at best
Unless adept to directly reflect
If never you’ve chosen love preferring to lust within an instant
Then never should you counsel on the requirements of commitment
And if never a child you’ve had because being without them was your preference
Then far be it for you to question my methods without point of reference
If never you’ve gone hungry or lived in shelters overcrowded
Then why claim “It’s only money” if you’ve never known life without it?
And if never you’ve been homeless
And your money truly piles in drifts
Why offer a poor man gruff instead of a dollar you wouldn’t miss?
If never you’ve seen a day where a crime made you a victim
Then never should you look down on one who earns an honest living
No matter a man’s occupation
Ask God to give him strength to push through
Because if never he made a dollar doing that
There’s a chance he’d be taking from you
So if never you’ve walked these shoes
Then humble your views
Shoes are not all leather
These truths are not meant to amuse
But to keep you from speaking just to try and sound clever
And if speaking you feel you must
Never speak of storms you haven’t weathered
Because if never you’ve had the pleasure of knowing never
You wouldn’t ever
Copyright © 2013 by Daryl R. Gaines. All rights reserved
the white language of snowfall lay
perfectly still where sunshine once warmed
a shaft of light pierces the evening tide of falling snowflakes
a point of reference for the weary footfall of
the man heading home
warm sweet home
his steps retraced leave one with
the enduring feeling that this vast sea of snow
covering the ground in gentle undulation
is but a foretaste of days of cold febuary to come
the winds tugs at his hood
and cling to his heart
in this the depths of winter
as he plunders his next
footstep from the cold crisp snow
it stirs thoughts of desolation
but he can see clearly sings of life
the tracks of a small creature as
it too reached for it home and warmth
in some nest or burrow
he feels the turning tides of this nights snow
he understands the meaning of these changes
to where summer sun once stretched the days into
long comforting green beauty of vibrant life
where spring will come
to melt away the white carpet which
he lays his mind on this night
where he will dream once more of
the beautiful summer sun will grow upon him
like the embrace of a lover
like the truth of passing seasons
write their own passionate tales
with the wind and skies
with the beauty of dark and light mixed
in the heart of our dreams
How deep into your psyche
do you dare peer?
How far are you willing to go
searching
into the darkest places of your deepest fears?
Are you afraid of being unanchored from your soul?
Go drifting into the abyss ...
where time and space has no relevance
Trusted depths of perception
offers no tangible point of reference
Up could be down
Away could be nearby
The further you drift from your safe place,
the closer you'll come to know the answers why ---
guided by the mind's eye
Depths of perception ...
find your spiritual connection
to a way of life heretofore never known,
possibilities of liberties never shown
But you are drifting further away
from stark realities you don't wanna face ...
Frightened by a bogeyman world view,
children love to stay in their safe place
Never venture out,
never find out why
your closet is so full of fears
Gathering more and more
dusty piles of phobias over the years
Yours depths of perception
has long been askew,
because you never really ever got to know you
The ship under full sail
The ocean murmurs an old tale
Nearby cutting through water is a whale
The fresh air enters your lungs as you inhale
The huge albatross spreads its wings
The wind in the sails sings
It tells the story of pirate kings
That hid a treasure of gold and diamond rings
The width of the ocean is vast
Sometimes billows so big they can shutter strongest mast
Their power on the ship will cast
And no one knows how long the storm will last
The storm in sails can make a gap
But important thing is not to give up
Even when it seems like you are sailing into deathtrap
Even if you have to fight with the sea for every scrap
Compared to vastness of the soul
The very ocean is small like a tadpole
The no need of point of reference evolution from view of beyond soul
Tell us that we have something even Gods should extol