Long Refer Poems
Long Refer Poems. Below are the most popular long Refer by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Refer poems by poem length and keyword.
I sing the praises of Sterilite
(even Mary Poppins would tout
a plug for said company she would spout
forcing playthings scattered helter skelter
retreating into their respective bins
analogous to a defeated army
beating a hasty retreat after a major rout
against all odds fighting off
the aggressive incursion
of a trumpeting lout,
which troops use weapon of choice
namely breath issuing "Kraut"
which in German, "Kraut"
primarily means herb
or the leaves and stem
of a plant, as opposed to the root,
also used in compound nouns
to refer to various cabbage products,
most notably Sauerkraut,
which is fermented white cabbage.
Additionally, "Kraut"
can be a derogatory slang term
for Germans, similar to how "Frogs"
used for the French,
according to The Guardian).
which accolades vocalized
on behalf of a company
whose sturdy products
helped transform the wife
from a potential candidate
of Hoarders buried alive
into a rival for the Odd Couple
neatnik character Felix Unger
though room for improvement
the spouse tries to abide
by the phrase
"a place for everything
and everything in its place"
an idiom that promotes
organization and orderliness,
where maximizing the space
afforded by a one bedroom apartment
here at Highland Manor
taught us the necessity
of maintaining an ever closer approximation
to becoming the reigning queen
of spic and span
affected by the mandates of management
(reinforced by dictates
of urban housing for low income
linkedin to yearly "violations")
toward instilling acquiring
"the model tenant award"
by regular inspections
which if I ruled the world
would include a month of free rent
as an extra incentive
leaving no room
for the likes of Oscar Madison,
which objective becoming
neat and tidy truth be told
finds me relishing living
according to the gospel
of several people offering
decluttering and organization methods
similar to Marie Kondo's KonMari approach,
focusing on simplifying and creating
a more joyful living space.
Some notable figures
include Gretchen Rubin,
known for her
"Outer Order, Inner Calm"
philosophy, and The Home Edit duo,
Clea Shearer and Joanna Teplin,
who emphasize visual organization.
Other methods, like Swedish Death Cleaning
and Peter Walsh's approach,
also offer alternative strategies
for decluttering and organizing one's home.
My mom raised me
She fed me
She cared for me
My mom is a saint
Raising five boys…
How can you say she ain’t?
My wife is nuts!
She is worried she may get laid off,
Yet she is hoping she will :\
She worries too much
But takes it all in stride
She is so strong and so weak at the same time
Dealing with all the stress
Yet the dog farting is too much!
My daughter is mine
She is too much like me,
Only more so
She doesn’t worry enough
Life brings what comes along
Her heart is full of song
But it’s mostly metal and punk and rap
And I just don’t get that crap
My daughter is also an addict you see…
Which is hard for us to understand, you see.
Addicts can’t “just stop”.
They let the drug-of-choice rule their life
They don’t care about the strife
There are triggers you know
That make the addict so
Stress, anxiety, depression, loneliness and boredom
They all push the addict towards the ledge
And their low self-esteem is the finale step
Over
The
Edge.
She is in recovery now…
She is doing well
She will always be
An addict you see
We love her the best we can
We will stick to the plan
And take each day
As it comes in to play.
My granddaughter is great!
She’s not yet two
She is nuts too.
She knows nothing of how
She came to my house.
(refer to the stanza on “My Daughter”)
She loves unconditionally
She loves Grandpa you see.
She doesn’t yet speak
So she cries her fears
And I dry her tears
And just like with her grandma and her mother
I try to read her mind
To see if I can tell
What it is that makes her yell
But she is sweet and kind and beautiful
And grandpa spoils her so…
Bet he can’t help it, you know.
It may be politically incorrect
But I don’t care;
Sometimes there is too much estrogen in the air
So grandpa gets out of the house
And meets his buds
And drinks some suds
And tells dirty jokes
About the kind of women
My mother and wife never were,
and I hope my daughter and granddaughter never will be.
So point your finger at me
And yell Hypocrisy!
I don’t care
Because you wouldn’t dare
Live my life for me.
But I would not trade all of this
To be rid of the drama (and the bliss)
It’s four against one
the ladies and me
Walk a mile in my shoes
And you will see
It takes great strength to do what I do
Four-to-One, and two dogs too.
Watching the Olympics news
coverage today
Sadly this is the conclusion
i came to afterwards
Our British male duo won gold
in the synchronized diving event
Brilliant yes of course an
unbelievable achievent
But given more than any other
sport the clue being in the name
It should be equal appreciation
and praise for each as without
the other winning is simply
an impossibility
So how come then i know who
Tom Daley is but don't even know
his diving partner's name
Maybe that's because he was
made to appear or seem
totally irrelevant by the media
news coverage
After the pair won they cut to
Tom Daleys family his mother
husband and their baby
Then we see Tom being
interviewed , Tom singular
on his own fielding questions
mostly regarding his personal
life and sexual preference
And thanking the LGBT
community for all there support
Exactly what that has to do
with diving i hold my hands
up i do not know admittedly
i am no expert on the subject
But personally for me what
i found was the real kick in
the teeth smack in the face
As i for 1 absolutely love and
breathe sport the gift the ability
the dedication the sacrifice
Was how it was constantly
infered it was only Tom's
dream since he was a young
child to win a gold medal
Again personally and only
to me what i seen goes against
the very ethos and ideology
of what the Olympics itself
stands for
I felt so sorry for him and his
family as Tom family husband
and child got more coverage
than he did
I tried to put myself
in his or his family shoes
and tried to wonder
How they must have felt having
their joy pride stolen and cheated
from them
Reduced merely to a bit part
or side show to the main event
And again i protest because
the clue is in the name
Synchronized Diving a duo
a pair a partnership a team
1 simply can not without
the aid of the other 1 win
So tell me where on earth
is the justice and sportsmanship
to be found here
And his name by the way
just incase you missed it
or care is
Matty Lee and he to also
wanted to be and win a
gold medal
And was just as dedicated
and trained just as hard in
order to achieve and make both
theirs dream a reality
Rather than as the press and
media barely refer to him as
Tom Daleys diving partner
or the other guy
The most awaited result got publicized, but
Internet hadn't landed the soil of my country.
Televisions were tabled in few pocketed places,
Still they worked, minute and achromatic.
With huge audience circling, signal was word alien,
Viewers would holler in unison, "It's raining!"
I now understand the fluctuation of signal,
We'd leave the jammed hall. No rain outside!
Correspondences saw only lethargic typewriters,
That sounded a poll pecking of a woodpecker.
A single wireless station would be queued
With people waiting for, "Pom, pom, Tango, Charlie."
Communication gravely sought its transmission,
Three-band radio justified on its little way,
Only richer lots bought and owned pompously
And my country had a single frequency squeezed.
The announcement was radioed in a succinct brief-
"The result of 1997 ICSE examination is out."
Nothing more or less, of the India-based examination,
I jumped on my toes only to later feel crushed.
My kiths were dejected with my abortive result,
An unofficial hearsay, they caught hold onto
Their dejection pierced my heart, agonizingly.
I'd to visit my alma mater, result matted least.
A two-day-long journey, not by a luxurious car
But on the hood of a truck on a bumpy roads,
Only the Indian highway would ease the journey
Like relieving the physical pangs of exhaustion.
The mental turmoil intensified as I neared
My school where the sheets would be displayed,
The wall would announce to a hundred lot of us,
The failure provoked sleepless nights and journeys.
My heart thudded as I entered the school premise,
Lips dried, even a pool of water wouldn't wet them.
Shivering, perplexity and numbness, crippled me,
I just wanted me alone to declare the performance.
I walked up the staircase with thundering emotion,
The entrance seemed gloomily unwelcoming,
Saw I a crowd of my mates craning and giraffing,
On the either sides of the entrance, sheets full.
No greetings, no handshaking, I just shied away,
Waited for the crowd to go thinly populated.
Just in one particular column to refer, wanted I,
PCA or PCNA - biggest summary of a year's toiling.
My comrades filed out slowly, forward I lunged,
Searching my name, throbbing took its tempo.
Spotted the name, from the wall, PCA grinned,
Pass Certificate Awarded, I became triumphant!
©?Khachab Dorji
I went to the Hollywood studio meeting
Paul, Steve and Sandy gave me a warm greeting
I was there to advise them, hired from Spain
My motto in business was no pain, no gain
So we sat down to the business at hand
Their movies were sinking, like stones in quicksand.
"How about a cowboy movie," I said...
"Good guys and bad guys with the latter shot dead!"
A gasp of wonder spread to them all
"Why didn't we think of that?" said Paul
Said Sandy, who though rich, struck me as obtuse
"It has to be woke, it must have juice
The cowboy, we'll call him Abdul McPherson
No, wait, we should refer to him as a CowPerson
His love interest should be black or brown
A birthing person, the soul of the town
The villains name could be Donald McKnight
A Donald Trump stand-in, got to be white."
"Wait," said Steve, "cis-male is a relic."
Abdul should be tender, gender-fluid and angelic."
Steve looked at his reflection in the table of mahogany
Added "How about hints of consensual non-monogamy?"
Sandy said "No! We must push the edge with our fans!
Every character, even the horse, must be trans!"
I was sarcastic, I said "for a true creative spark
We know Spielberg had a hit long ago about a shark,
Maybe stick one in the film, somewhere in the sagebrush
A gasp spread around the table, an awestruck hush
Paul shouted, "that's it! Cowperson versus Jaws!
A fable about transgressing natures laws!
Lets start shooting tomorrow, drop that Batman remake:
With this kind of theme, we can't make a mistake!"
Despite guaranteed payment, I was feeling sick
I already knew there was no hope for this flick
But they got so thrilled, they made their bet
Sunk investor millions, their studio further in debt.
I gathered my fees, went back to Spain
And "Cowperson versus Jaws" circled down the drain
To my horror in the credits, they mentioned my name
I was jeered in Madrid, couldn't face the shame.
Paul, Steve and Sandy did fine at the bank
Woke investors kept funding, though the movie stank
Though audiences felt under a dentist's drill
The Critics said the movie was epic, groundbreaking, a thrill.
Geologists say that one day, California will fall into the sea
Its already happened; Hollywood is a parody
Showdown at Noon but no Gary Cooper, can't find John Wayne
Woke Bandits have stolen the gold off the movie train.
who is too busy fighting the devil,
all good energy eluded
if you truly understood yourself
you would not be so deluded
many fight an imagined internal
fear-
everyone allows the devil within
your nasty thoughts, never shared...
...madman exposed by the violent act...
lay dormant suppressed by false fear...
this knowing, this accepting,
a purely human observation,
blame God if you must you are
after all his miracle creation?
who pays for the lip
service to a religion
built on mans'
self destruction,
...devised by
corruption...
a religion built on
wars self sacrifice
, desperate
resurrection,
modified reincarnation,
how do you know, this religion is
not the devils' work?,
after all, there are more sinners inside
than outside of a church...
playing second fiddle to a man who
claims he is the annoited one,
this religious lip service,
could the annoited be a fraud?...no! thats right
God speaks to him, oh yeah nut jobs...
it's voices he heard...
if you were all together, free in your
mind-you would be able to see
how you are being fleeced
you wouldn't be so blind...
hey keep going to the preacher...
he's probably keeping you sane...
it's cheaper than doctor, financially
less of a strain...
but remember, just because you go to
church you're no better than me
just a little desperate, out of touch
with reality...
a lot of people these days stay away
from the pulpit, history reveals...
basically it's a weapon, it's a devil
filling your head with s#@t...
...many believers understand...this
religious clap trap in modern day
does not apply...
It is belief in ones self...this
you cannot preach or buy...
if you need someone to lecture you
on what is wrong from right...
to judge other people on any given
day or night...than you are in the
right place...
your mind is outdated
attend your weekly meetings
have your mind manipulated
hey whatever floats your boat...
whenever the day comes and you
decide to exit...
the people up here will still refer to you
as a mind deeply perplexed a thought
not easily rejected...
you have the answers,
they are in your head-but
you would rather listen to
a history, a reign of
madmen instead
"Super Hero"
Krypto Knighted
Disrobed Le Penseur
contemplates strength
a royal monk disrobing within
Rodin begins to think
new dreams dialled in
naked vulnerability begins
hiding behind dark angel wings
pinned between the box-cadged
dimensions of a glass onion
black crows waiting along the ley lines lead,
super natural morsel fed
dark nights fly into unhooded blinding daze
towards the gauntlet
landing tethered and tamed
temperated, nixed and disarmed
Hawk of the Lure,
long winged
creance held
in the grey rock silence
evaluated
hard-penned
full-summed
(LadyLabyrinth / 2020)
“Super Hero” / Johnny Hollow
https://youtu.be/JGkC-8Qu0JM
“Land of the lost and sedated
Will someone come,
Save us from,
This storyline of mass destruction
Will they stay,
When they see,
What we have done
just to be free…”
Crypto/Krypto, meanings
https://www.thefreedictionary.com/krypto-
Glossary of Falconry Terms:
https://sora.unm.edu/sites/default/files/journals/jrr/v003n03/p00058-p00067.pdf
"Super Hero", Johnny Hollow / LYRICS
https://genius.com/Johnny-hollow-superhero-lyrics
Kryptonite
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kryptonite
"full-summed" / refer, Glossary of Falconry Terms.
Le Penseur.
The Thinker was initially named The Poet (French: Le Poète), and was part of a large commission begun in 1880 for a doorway surround called The Gates of Hell. Rodin based this on The Divine Comedy of Dante Alighieri, and most of the figures in the work represented the main characters in the poem with The Thinker at the center of the composition over the doorway and somewhat larger than most of the other figures. Some critics believe that it was originally intended to depict Dante at the gates of Hell, pondering his great poem. Other critics reject that theory, pointing out that the figure is naked while Dante is fully clothed throughout his poem, and that the sculpture's physique does not correspond to Dante's effete figure. The sculpture is nude, as Rodin wanted a heroic figure in the tradition of Michelangelo, to represent intellect as well as poetry.
Falconry:
"So What Exactly is Falconry?"
http://www.pfht.org/falconry/
Great traditional bavila priest,
When you hear about the great
traditional bavila priest called
" Kasongo Nguni"
from bahinga clan,
Who worked for the bavila kingdom
On the reign of King Musabwa
Kamango Munanila.
One of bavila very wise priests
who could see mysterious things.
His surname " Nguni " can be found
In Mozambique, Malawi, Swaziland
Zambia, South Africa and Tanzania
where Nguni nations are populated.
Many bavila names and surnames
rooted from the Luba Empire
which was on southern
part of the current D.R.Congo.
Many centuries passed but bavila
still recognizing their roots
due to the name of some places
which were called under their ancestors
while migrating from Sangha " buluba" to Uvila.
There are a lot in common between the Nguni
nations of southern region of Africa
with bavila.
Some surnames of bavila can be found
at Nguni lands in South Africa , Swazland,
Malawi , Zambia, Zimbabwe.
Example " KwaNguni " which means at Nguni.
There is a mountain called " ILenge , or Lenge"
in Kwazulu-Natal,
some people can refer it
as a mysterious mountain.
Lenghe "ILUNGA LENGE" was one
of the early kings of bavila,
Later on,
the royal clan was called under his name
"Bene lenge " to mean the descendents of Lenge,
to protect their migration trace from Luba Empire.
There are some places in DRCongo , Zambia
and South Africa which are called " Lenge"
1. One locality in bukama " Haut Lomami province" in D.R,Congo is called " Lenge"
2. There is a locality in North- West Zambia with the name of " Lenge"
3. Lengé is a locality in cuvette department near to localities Molembé Kombé and Likounga in DRCongo.
4. Lenge is a suburb in Nkonkobe local municipality in Eastern Cape - South Africa.
5. Lenge - bundala is a locality in Manono, Tanganyika province which is nearby
Kakobe village and Kaniambe locality.
There are other places
which were called under the names
of some bavila well-known leaders
1. Mundi
2. Nguni
3. Lugongo
4. Bijombo
3. Munanila
4. Musabwa
5. Uvila
A game of musical chairs has just begun in earnest. A pot and kettle band arrives
through the dining rooms’ French doors following the Valentine Queen. A putrid pink
flamingo with a croquet ball stuck in its beak settles it’s derrière onto a fine caramel
leather seat. His humor is short lived. A snort echoes from each of the six bullhorns
forming his head. “Got him that time, you really did, Matilda!” laughed Lucky, the
horn-backed chair. A single, rose-pink, button pops off Matilda’s back and lands in
the hatless brigands’ teapot, just as he is placing a silver tea ball inside. “Ou a le
petite fille?” Matilda groans. Around the far end of the table chasing a set of
disembodied eyes with a cat tail, a girl child runs screeching. “She looks familiar,
don’t she?” Windy whistles beneath the lacy tablecloth, tickling Mattie’s fancy. “Her
name ain’t Louise,” as with a plop, a brigand crushes Laddie’s rushes. The windsor
replies. “Geeeeeeeeez Louise!” the ladder-back mutters, between its back straps. A
top hat flies through the air and landed on the top knob of the lanky ladder backed
chair. The child righted herself, wiping her nose on the errant apron string. She lisps
through the spider web pattern of her seat. “Awww now what a shame,” Mary
whispers to Tex. The loose tails of her apron caught beneath Mary’s rocker and the
child tumbled face forward into a full cup of Assam tea. A girl child resplendent in
golden locks and white pinafore tore into the room planting herself on the caned
ladies rocker Mary. “Mon Dieu” She moans. “Ya’ll see that nasty monster splatter
chocolate icing on my skirt?” A knob kneed, potbellied prig, holding a cupcake,
shoves his way onto Matilda, the little ladies slipper chair. Tex the horned back chair
at the tables girdle chortles. “Do you know who’s been invited to this soiree?” The
rabbit topples over backward, his watch bashing his delicate pink nose. Windy
sneezes.“Aahhh chhhooo!” Tufts of fanny fur tickled between his spokes.
“Good golly Miss Molly,” shrieks Windy the windsor chair at the far end of the table,
as a wild-eyed, white rabbit with a gold watch plunked into his well-worn seat.
*Refer to "The Chairs Have it"
This poem can be read from the backwards too ;)
How do I acquire a place where I can forgive?
How can I stop blaming myself for my mistakes?
I can't recall the version of "Intrinsic", but it's conflictive,
None can quash them If you can't forgive rattlesnakes.
It's difficult to forgive wrongdoers who won't swage,
It's cruel to excuse inner suffering from a rapist's rage,
It's difficult to grace louts who have killed your family,
Spirits will not retaliate but can whip you clearly.
No, I'm not a saint; failure is not the same as forgiveness.,
That doesn't refer I must trust or favor the chorus,
He seems angel but he throws his seat through the window,
He is tiled with a shabby female tattoo on his elbow.
I felt vulgar, stupid, and useless,
Close to the leech and slimy worm, that's sageness,
Every smile contains a malicious chart, so I lack faith,
I endure on wobbly legs, wiping away tears and scathe.
How can I resist the urge to do things right?
Some people mind me a skeptic. My kids guess I'm bright,
In fact, they suppose I'm an incredible winner,
If they view suffering, it will improve my manner.
No one understands what I endure,
I am not in a position to reveal such rancor,
I'm tired of seeing and living a shabby life,
I wanted a widely used headline in some rife.
The tombs of our ancestors are everywhere,
Earth's soil is the body's dust, walk lento, and care,
The suffering of death is greater than the joy of birth,
O cooing doves bestow to the weeping, some mirth.
Some actions are held liable, but none are shrewd,
Every devout soul has a past, and every deceiver is lewd,
Who can you forgive if not the toughest opponent?
You are fully ungrown with this Atonement.
The blast radius of your grief can harm the soul,
What if the people around you are shown a rays hole?
What if you cling to someone else's roots to be injured?
It all begins with a runic visceral fear of the biohazard.
I select my destiny and discover myself,
Say farewell to my harsh youth with purity and pelf,
Today I saw the opposite of what you taught me,
I also forgive you for everything before I flee.
1st Place Contest Win.
Written: June 25, 2022
Forgiveness Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Anoucheka Gangabissoon