Long Point of reference Poems

Long Point of reference Poems. Below are the most popular long Point of reference by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Point of reference poems by poem length and keyword.


Premium Member Coming Home

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
© Cherl Dunn  Create an image from this poem.


Con Brio-Vaudeville Playaz

Don't forget to remove the Bay leaves from the
pot.
Make it easier on yourself
put the bay leaves and rosemary sprig
in a cheese cloth.
I'm in most incline to agree
yet some deemed them useless
almond ash and hickory ash
was used to create a super
strong aroma.
Pungent and earth friendly.


TENUTO___
The Zoomies
 a group of five
songstresses
Clutter ( a Contralto Alto)
Clowder ( Contralto Soprano)
Glaring ( Mezzo- soprano)
Pounce ( the Soprano)
Bunting(Contralto)
allorubbing
glissando
tremolo
trill.
Piano!
Piano!
Staccato< paino
an detached and fast tempoed!
She detached her relationship
to be seen as more uncaring
toward the male gender.
She said such allowed her to negotiate
from being lesser involved from actually
being responsible
inside a fully functional relationship.
The legend goes that 1n 1887 at a festival somewhere unknown.
A group of Women who were hired to perform and were allowed
to have concessions.
The woman (The Zoomies) were fixing to serve up some delicious foods.
An inspection by a local there
who looked troubles in the face with a laugh, came up
to the head cook in the busy campground.
He told the woman she better take those bay leaves out of the soup
before someone starts complaining. The woman didn't take to kindly to this citified person
turning his nose up at her with an order. She sat the hot pot on the piano (according to legend)
She went down in her blouse, and pulled out  her mini firecracker canon and launch a firecracker at the visiting chef. It's said the shoot knocked off the gentlemen's top hat. People thought it was part of the show.

* Point of Reference- The guy is said to have come up to the stage while more then 50 people( paying customers) were there and said "the rat and kitty stew smell like beef: that b*tch better not forget to take the BAY LEAVES outta the pot" Another legend is said that 6 woman singer corner the fella and stood above him and releived there selves. Ans said while the guy was enjoying his supper a woman reached down in her blouse and pulled out her breast and asked the man did he want her to make it a french creame soup!"
Form: Ballad

Premium Member Fear of freedom

we are here
why would we negate
so we do accept this reality 
taking our stuporous aliveness
within decaying organic form
as the point of reference
with which we begin
Ramana’s inquiry
who am I

looking back at our life
we notice our values shift
also as in moment to moment 
there is fickleness in our response
to life as it unfolds all around us
but the screen of awareness 
upon which images dance
always remains constant

what is this screen
which remains flicker-free
through waking, dreaming and sleep
wherefrom we always emerge unscathed
even though we lose our awareness
which is clearly quite stuporous
even when we’re awake
though ego opines
otherwise

this motionless screen
which is the eternal witness
recording our life without judging
let us then choose to meld presence with it
becoming still in thought rested silence
simply watching the ebb and flow
of thoughts and emotions
within body-mind

time flows on
but we are resolute
playing the waiting game
seeking nothing simply looking 
fulcrum of our awareness centreless 
thus doing nothing we connect
with universal consciousness 
imbibing direct knowing
that transcends mind

befriending silence
we begin to live internally
as a presence ensouling form
thereby also becoming nonchalant 
immune from the vagaries of fickle fate
whereupon our emptiness is filled
with divine magnetism surreal
which bestows on us bliss
and light of our being

what’s there to say
we all are this living light
which is veiled by thought forms
spawned by imaginary ego identity
which it is quite clear we are not
but mankind is afraid to let go
of dreams we believe real
we hear Plato laughing
allegory of the cave
the truth is known
but we all fear 
to accept

how long will we
trauma bond with ego
a mere bubble of illusion
that confines us in delusion
is the question we each must ask
the eternal presence within
seeking our embrace 
within the cave
of our heart

If You Never

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

As It Was

We are all here today as we
and why were meant to be

Because we all follow our
intended path 

Otherwise left alone unto our
own devices to forge our own

We would never end up getting
anywhere at all

Lost and all at sea searching
for dry land and the hope of a
familiar landmark 

To use as a point of reference
in order to retrace my way back
home

Whilst all along thinking and 
pondering the reason why
i even contemplated leaving
in the 1st place

And will it still be and bring
back those same feelings
i so grew to long and miss
the longer i was away

Why did i choose to leave
What made me want back
Why all and the what 
Happened in - between 

So many unanswered questions

So many shades of grey blurred
on either side of the black and
white divide

Only after endless contemplating 
soul searching and internal deep
reflection

All we are left with to hold
onto in the end and we find
is we are left with nothing but

All exactly is as it was quite
obviously meant to be

I am still me as is the road
from here to there and back

As is all that is now in the
past and in - between set
in stone like Excalibur

Destiny is merely an X placed
and marked out on a treaure 
map per say

Who amongst hasn't spent a
large majority wasted our
lifetime chasing like the
rainbows end

Only 1 day to late to admit
and find to our own detrement
and regret 

We always new may probably
never have actually existed
anywhere but in our own mind

And if it did or does rather than
have to chase it or go in search
of it

If it was somehow meant to
be or is to be

It will find and come to us
with or without our help


Unspoken Need -The Second Part -Full Poem

I'm in love,
but what does it go through, the moment the words become clear?
When old feelings are lost,
and too prideful to return home to find their way.
I know there are lessons to learn in how things are said,
though no chances taken, when the circumstances turn opposite of north.
You can tell me anything, scream your pain, it's the words I want.
It's as though our expressions become clearer the farther out they are,
like an abstract.
It's unspoken and it needn't be, I hear it, but often times not.
Giving way to what we know as love, is all it can do at times.
Falling victim to what I know as the truth,
won't save either of us when that moment in time comes.
Daring and gallant lies can win the day where unheroic truths come up lame
….we've been there a time or two.
Love from two ends close and fix themselves into a monolithic bond.
Proving all powerful, though vulnerable still to silence and those
exchanges lacking restraint.
The need stands firm, though not much expected, it fritters away its brave face.
Alone in wonderment, maybe we aren't as far off as I think...
...perhaps patience is more art than effort…
Are we really content by merely having our point of reference?
Well away from where we started.
A long way lost, or just in circles,
but still through this fume, I venture back to say
-I love you.






Written 2 October 2016 at Camp Hovey, Dongducheon, South Korea

Premium Member The Other Self

( 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

Heart of Our Dreams

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
© Mark Junor  Create an image from this poem.

Inertia Frigidity


Step into the date-stamped time DeLorean,
move forward
on backward spinning nostalgia rims
Centrifugal hourglass ... 
short hand and long
Distorted view of time,
kinetic highway romantic destiny
Blurred future sideway images,
past memories rearview exit gone
Engine gunned to the max,
space curvature gives good distant
escape velocity
Point of reference
for the necessary fuel alibi 
goodbye synthesized
Faceless retrograde emotions
be nitro traction void vulcanized
Heart on a timer-delay standstill,
inertia frigidity
Frozen thoughts,
toss away the last empty bottle:
drained viscosity real liquid feelings
Feel the sub-zero wind chill 
of a refrigerated body,
another temporal roadkill
Only cardiac arrest
will take you to a stalled location
Pick a random course,
move on 
to the next unknown destination
Fate uncertain — 
Love theory is all relative
Outside of the winged doors,
birds of chance
perch watch on a deja vu branch
Waiting to draft on the breeze
of your exhaustion,
when your fuming desires run out of time
Passion entropy ... loss of heat
Mind settled comfortably
into inertia frigidity

Crazy Train

The Light of His Word relieves all of the darkness
In not having heard you don't even see the mess
In so a mind wonders having no point of reference
As when it blunders you haven't the slightest sense

As man pushes God away then repeatedly God warns
Telling their kids not to pray as all society now scorns
Now take a look around... do you recognize anything
Unstable sandy ground, the consequences it does bring 

First things just crack but in time when there's no repair
Just a missing peg in the track one more no longer there
The train picks up speed as the passengers pay no mind
Feeling there's no need too busy going to the daily grind

Just a little bit of shaking as this time they made it past
But each day that it's breaking their own lots they cast
In hearing All Aboard maybe you will take another way
Maybe going with the Lord, hearing what He has to say 

2 Timothy 2:15	 
Study to shew thyself approved unto God, 
a workman that needeth not to be ashamed,
rightly dividing the word of truth.
Form: Rhyme

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