Long Gps Poems
Long Gps Poems. Below are the most popular long Gps by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Gps poems by poem length and keyword.
How we love our Global Positioning System for getting us to a place…and back
but what are we to do…when our GPS attacks?
First of all let me come clean…I admit with my GPS…sometimes I like to play
I’ll miss a turn on purpose…just to see what she will say.
After all it is my Global Positioning System…I am the consumer
Only I didn’t know my GPS didn’t have sense of humor.
The first indication I had that of humor she was bereft
was when in the middle of a bridge one day she advised me to ‘Turn Left’
But that was a few years ago…many times since then…together we have driven
However on our latest trip to the mountains I found I have yet to be forgiven.
I programmed in our route…and things seemed to be going smooth…until…
before we knew it instead of heading north we were heading east to Jacksonville.
I imagine before this happened she probably thought I persecuted her
When….for a fraction of a second…as a joke…I may have muted her.
The next thing I knew we had crossed the state in the completely wrong direction
So I apologized, reprogrammed her and waited for her correction.
And she did correct, at least I think she did…we seemed headed the right way
but some of the roads seemed desolate…one was even made of clay….
I finally had to turn her off…but speaking as the consumer…
I now believe my GPS has a mischievous sense of humor
Because it took us 12 hours to finally arrive at our hotel
on this madcap trip she’d been choreographing
and even though she was turned off…
I swear I could heard her laughing.
My GPS has started giving me sass,
calling me dear and telling me cars to pass
and after the turn I just made, muttering mercy, alas~
clearly it’s aged into full personality.
It sighs when I drive under the speed limit,
reminds me my blinker’s been on for a minute,
and once declared, “We’ll get there… eventually…
if we’re committed.”
It refuses shortcuts, claiming they’re too risky,
suggests scenic routes where the air feels frisky,
and warns me sternly when traffic gets too brisk-y.
Indeed, my GPS has become my personal chaperone.
When I finally reach my destination,
it softens its tone with warm appreciation:
“Well done, dear heart. A triumphant navigation.”
And I swear it pats me on the dashboard.
GPS a heavenly perspective.
Have you ever needed help, or guidance in life?
It's when we are lost on the road that we finally realize
That, we cannot manage without help so we ask for directions
It's up to us to follow them, without asking too many questions.
We use a GPS to help us when we're lost or off course
An indispensable guidance system a valuable resource
Do you trust in it's guidance or question if the directions are right?
After all you can't see the satellite with your own two eyes.
You trust that it gives you the right directions that you need
because, it has a higher perspective than our view from the street
If we trust, or put faith in a satellite that we cannot see
Should it not be easy for us then in our Creator to believe?
G ods
P erfect
S tandards
John Derek Hamilton
February12,2016
Arguing with GPS.
Pernicious words, hatred spewed in impotent rage
against the female voice telling me to turn left at the first roundabout
“Shut up, silly cow, I know this road better than you.”
“You never follow my instruction is it because I`m a woman?”
“No dear, it is because I know the roads around here better than you.”
“So, you don´t need me anymore?
“No, dear is no so when sitting alone in the car it is nice to hear a friendly voice.”
Sobbing and soft music from the GPS.
“You have to follow the instruction,” she said, sounding like my doctor.
He got angry and said, “I can turn you off if I want to.”
She said you will regret this when driving to Lisbon.”
When arriving home, the voice said, “you have arrived at your destination.”
For heaven’s sake, I know.
THERE ARE MANY THINGS
I'D SURE LIKE TO KNOW.
BECAUSE CURIOSITY
CONTINUALLY GROWS
DO MIGRATING BIRDS
HAVE GPS ?
OR IS THEIR SENSE
OF DIRECTION SIMPLY THE BEST.
INTUITION OR INSTINCT
HOW DO THEY KNOW.?
OF ALL THE DIRECTIONS
WHICH WAY TO GO?
MIGRATION TAKES PLACE
WE KNOW THERE'S A REASON.
BUT HOW CAN THEY TELL
IT'S TIME OR THAT SEASON.?
THEY ARRIVE EVERY YEAR.
ON THE VERY SAME DAY.
ISN'T IT ODD
IN SOME KIND OF WAY.?
ARE THEY COUNTING THE DAYS?
OR COUNTING THE NIGHTS.?
MAYBE THEY'RE COUNTING
THEIR HOURS IN FLIGHT.
AS IT TURNS OUT
OR AS SCIENTISTS SAY.
MAGNETIC FIELDS
PROVIDE THEM THE WAY
GEOMAGNETIC
FIELDS ARE A MAP.
THEY FOLLOW THE FIELDS
AND ALWAYS COME BACK
Michael E Harris
09171021
Some have Siri,
others have Alexa;
but my GPS
I call it Robert;
for it seems to always
take the road less travelled by.
I see the highway on its little screen;
while I meander
down some potholed lane
that somehow seemed to
have the better claim on Robert.
I swear I typed in ‘fastest.’
but Robert is pre-programmed,
so it appears,
to always take me via ‘scenic,’
perhaps he’s keeping fastest,
for another day.
U-turns are his specialty,
along with narrow lanes
with red signs;
bent in the undergrowth
‘Beware Heavy Plant’
with no room
for the passing there.
Two interviews;
and both that morning,
I’m sure some time, ages hence
I will arrive;
late;
for Robert
took the route less traveled by,
which has made all the difference!
Hear me out please, Lord, for to you I do pray.
I’ve lost my direction lately, will you point the way?
I’m trying to redirect myself as you asked me to.
Now I need your help, I am counting on you.
Should I sit here and wait for you, I don’t have a clue.
I need you to tell me, Father, the next thing I’m to do.
I’m laying here writing this, I’ve made you a room.
Looking for your guidance, hope to hear from you soon.
Your word says to believe, nothing’s impossible to you.
I struggle to accept that, I guess because I am new.
Will, you talk to my mind, do you someone to say.
Like, son, walk in that direction, and I’ll show you the way.
I’ll share this with others, who struggle just like me.
I want to make it easier, to help other believers to see. Expect a good outcome, is what I just heard you say.
Just stand on your living word, and I will find my way.
Don’t doubt, or deny you, and you’ll help me to win.
Because disbelief or doubt is one of man’s greatest sin.
I will repeat your word, that’s what Jesus would do.
And let you do the rest, I know you will come through.
*Image of Global Positioning System by Rankr.
All Roads Led to Hell, Until GPS
An attempted refolded map resolved itself against a ruffled sort,
the championed driver -- not of cars,
GPS constants a dashboard as a storm flit to nonexistence,
ado about the guy at the wheel flits with it,
chuckles as dawn speaks and sunrise glints at a trustful eye,
an oiled motor now runs cooly, slightly fresh tire scarring rolls on,
a car stops on the side of a country lane,
an idling engine idles a bevy of doves perched on a limb,
opts for a U-turn as an all clearance was taken,
a mouth forces years of hardened cells upward, donning anew emerges,
whistling attuned to a suite medley of birdsongs while fingers push a fedora near a car ceiling,
stops at the florist, the candy store, and longer at the jewelers,
sounds of a car parking in the drive,
a woman wiping to dryness look sees a mirror,
a throat clears and coughed to a soothing, and hair is being fussed,
a trembling stand eases to absence, a door being faced down a hallway opens,
a bouquet of roses, a candy box, a gift box, and a rugged man fall in unison fronting an entry doorway,
weeping in glad tidings calls outwardly, "Look what my GPS said!" a shocked woman rushes forward to kneel,
The solid man raised his GPS to her ever-widening eyes,
GPS read out, "God Promises Salvation,"
Two souls lived contentedly until their hereafter in bliss.
2022 August 18
GPS and I have a covert relationship. She is my operative, I am her mission.
She seeks to get me places I am supposed to be, and she often does a great job.
At these times I am her minion, happily following her,
but forgetting to praise her.
Other times the mission should have been aborted in the middle,
but she does not know it yet.
She leads me into the middle of wheat fields,
or under graffiti-laden bridges, in outskirts of nowhere.
One time my operative led me to the edge of a tall cliff,
staring out into sea, six hundred feet down.
Was I teetering on the brink of a disastrous fall?
No, but it was still horrible, and it could have happened.
While my GPS cheerfully sang “You have reached your destination.”
Do you suppose she meant my FINAL destination?
I’m recalling how
intelligent my father
became, as he grew
older; things he said
one day just seemed
to make sense to me.
And when he was
really old, he told
me: “Son, don’t ever
get old...” then he
smiled, and began
a new journey some
day I will follow.
Of course, old is
different for everyone:
many born in war-torn
countries, or those raised
in urban ghettos never
have a chance to be young.
So, old is sort of where
they start—which may
be why, some people
born to poverty, if they
finally make it out,
begin to work their
way backwards;
becoming foolish with
their money, and self
destructive with their time…
I guess, in the end
what really matters is
not where one comes
from, but where one
is...which is why,
in our modern society,
a good GPS is a wise
investment….