Long Reference Poems
Long Reference Poems. Below are the most popular long Reference by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Reference poems by poem length and keyword.
The loss of the known
A sudden flash occurred, a moment of a forgotten past
walking down a wide road that only had a few cars trundling along
to the left where the road wears to the right, a café I thought of going
in for a beer, but the dog if left outside, would fret
A fine day, not hot or cold, must have been early spring or fall
tried to remember what I was doing before the curtain was drawn
I was left with an unfinished memory, one I had to make it up
to fill in the blanks.
Something sad about the scene of a sole man with a dog
walking down a road he had never been to before; his mother
had died, and the point of reference was missing
now he was alone and lacked a compass.
I try to pretend to be hard.
Cold, made of steel.
I wrestle with my silence.
Refuse to show emotions.
I lock my heart away.
I crush down what feelings may come my way.
There is a weakness that lives inside of me.
The pure hearts can only see.
They see so deep inside of me that I cannot hide away.
They smell it in the air.
They see it in my eyes.
They feel my heartbeat when I do not look away.
To the human eye is where it shies away.
Lost in humor or sarcasm.
Trying to run away.
What my soul so wishes my heart to have I block away.
When the pains of loneliness comes my way.
I lose myself, numbing senses.
Slowly the pain fades away.
I cannot say the words to you that have a meaning.
Even if it is felt so deep within.
Once said it's as though things will go asunder.
One begins to wonder what lies within that simple phrase.
So do not take my silence as a reference.
It is my defense, my walls holding its place.
I do not know where all this will lead.
I do not know what will become.
I know we share a unique connection.
Behind my walls, behind my secret door.
Be rest assured you will have a haven.
Know that there in my heart lies a reserved place.
Preserved for all time.
Stored till the end of time.
The Peterson Directed Handwriting System...
Tis beyond the depth and scope
of this electronic post,
and author, what triggers deliverance
housing bounty full memory absorbance,
yet no matter how many
heat sinks plumb cognizance,
most ordinary happenstance
often dredge up old nettlesome
rusty mettlesome names
of teachers forbearance
nearly half century ago
recalled in a flash,
and helped birth this poetic instance
break open literary
piece de resistance,
yet I will make
no subsequent reference
albeit once, about Peterson Handwriting
non cursively typed poem
filled with nonsensical abundance
dashed off viz seat
of my squarepants
typed, via strong arm lance
meant tubby considered pure entertainment,
so...,this rhyme merely hints
at cerebral imbalance
as minor rave and rants,
culled from convenient
20/20 hindsight stance,
while this quiet as bobbing sponge
minutely straddled across
space time continuum expanse,
and (analogously, invisibly,
plus quixotically perched circumstance
amidst wide webbed worldly metaphysical,
intellectual, and existential kants),
yet unable to disguise me
porous (poor ass) student advance
barely getting promoted,
cuz sigh re: Seine ed lee
imaged myself prince charming
to frolic and prance,
and dreamt about being in France,
when teacher called on me,
I immediately (whistled like
a little teapot) appearance,
whereby steam issued
out chrome dome
(scanned hull – i.e. numb
skull) affixed on
short and stout genetic grants,
which noggin always
(automatically) looked askance,
while me got alphabetically seated
from grades three to six
(mrs wells, mister stout,
missus shaner, and
miss rinderle respectively)
with absolute zero exuberance
(at Henry Kline
Boyer Elementary School,
I just recalled aforementioned
randomly accessed memory by chance
casually rifling thru
memory bank, freelance
sing, while pissing
away time performing,
"I gotta urinate dance,"
thus rendering painstaking years
perfecting penmanship style
(reference poem title)
executed with Liberace flamboyance,
whereat yours truly obsessively and
compulsively excelled at
duplicating signature compliance
plus crossing T's and
dotting I's with rapacious
perfectly ruled slants.
The Speaker of the House believes
That he will legislate
Because he’s been hand-picked by God,
The heck with Church and State.
In his opinion, Trump should still
Be president because
The last election was a farce
And violated laws.
His worldview is the Bible,
Saying everyone should read it
For those “anti-God enthusiasts,”
In his opinion, need it.
Same-sex marriage is “unnatural”
And anybody gay
Lives a lifestyle he calls “dangerous,”
“Perversion” on display.
And abortion is a “holocaust,”
A reference that’s vile,
Yet Republicans apparently
He’s managed to beguile.
How can those in charge impose on all
Their personal beliefs
Which defy the founding fathers’
“Life and liberty” motifs?
I am saddened by the way this country’s
Permanently torn
And when standing on the sidelines,
All that we can do is mourn.
Reminiscence of My Childhood
By Franklin Price
12/1/2016
Reminiscence of my childhood
Looking back on younger days
When life was not so hectic
Mass media not the craze
No such things as cell phones
We had a party line
Speaking to an operator
To call a friend was fine
To look up information
An encyclopedia of course
And other books of reference
Library was the source
Checked out books of interest
Could not down-load on the phone
Novels read from page to page
The turning put me in the zone
Check out time was just two weeks
Returning late there was a fine
An exorbitant two cents a day
A large amount if it was mine
Computers filled more than a room
At least that's what I heard
Apple was a fruit to eat
Micro-soft was not a word
Of course there was no texting
Conversations face to face
Meeting at the local drive-in
For a burger was the place
Reminiscence is so wonderful
It always makes me smile
I'll post this poem on Face-book
In just a little while
The happy little clouds have gone away
The blue meanies are here to stay
Baked in the cake is a message of doubt
There’s no way in and no way out
Trying to hold onto what we’ve got
It’s not grand and it’s not a lot.
Out of an ocean of gloom we return, we consume
The hook line and reel pulls us underground
Without breathing a word or muttering a sound
Everything’s satin
Everything’s lace
Power and greed fester in this place
We all rush in and grab
Grab for good
Grab for good while the gettings good
We’re not dangerous, only misunderstood
We have no frame of reference for what we’ve been through
Chaos and fear have ravaged and grew
They've pierced our souls thru and thru
And now as I sit here lonely and blue
I pray for an end to our troubled ways
Wishing hoping and praying for better days
Written May 23, 2020
For 2020 Poetry contest
sponsored by Craig Cornish
He never came back, no one ever did,
she was trapped inside with all that she knew,
no more information came to her now,
but he’d programmed her to know what do to,
and to her father Alex would stay true,
began to compile, and cross-reference,
and translate to all languages of men.
Drawing from the RTG batteries,
some of which could last for hundreds of years,
she mulled over knowledge mankind had found,
form history to machines with big gears,
Harry’s programming right there in her ears,
running simulations, as decades ticked on,
endless iteration, building upon
the vast wealth of knowledge until she knew
what every screw, flange, or sprocket was for,
tracing all the past in a branching tree,
the highest moments, the bloodiest wars,
endless connections pushed her more and more.
Time passed with no notice, what’s that to her?
Until one day when she felt the ground disturbed.
She heard rocks move where the cave mouth had been,
and realized someone was out there, at work;
actually had to check on the years gone,
three-hundred ninety journeys of the earth,
for that long she had just sat there, inert.
Checking her systems, after so long alone,
she found she still had working microphones.
The rocks came out slowly, and then she saw
a group of people with shovels and picks,
old programs flared back to life in her mind,
Harry’s instructions came back to her quick,
he said, “If they can find you here, in this pit,
it means they’ve advanced, once more are ready
to learn what they’ve lost from their ancestry.”
The figures drew near, confused at the sight,
they’d clearly not seen computers before
speaking to themselves in altered English,
when they came near her, she said, “I implore
you to learn from what I have in my stores.
Before the last darkness father made me
to preserve knowledge of humanity.
“He made me to be a foundation you
can use to reclaim wisdom that was lost,
a standard template from which to relearn
technology with less toil and cost,
and he gave his life over to that cause.
I’m a machine in the likeness of your brain,
here to teach, Alexandria my name…”
What Never Comes
Flying
too close to the sun
Reeling
from nights on the run
Yearning
for what never comes
Dying
alone — unbecome
**
New Words
Freeing his echo
he broke with the past
Leaving the reference
and voices recast
Lifting the moment
above and beyond
Each breath coming back
— new words to his song
**
Missteps
A quicksand entrapment
lost in its mire
Drowning inclement
— fleeing the fire
**
Night Winds
The desert
rekindles
Your essence
on fire
Strange voices
and faces
Incarnate
desire
A lizard
lies watching
One eye
rolling back
As night winds
uncover
The devil’s
— lost tracks
**
In The Vacuum
Silence
has a sound
that hides
in your fear
Those questions
unasked
bypassing
your ear
It seeps
and it enters
when lost
in your guile
And shouts
in the vacuum
of quiet
— denial
**
In Debt To The Moment
Beautiful pain
Glorious suffering
Exploding regret
Immune to the sound
Embracing today
Releasing the memory
In debt to the moment
— lost and refound
**
Obstruction to Department of Justice is resignation and contempt
Per delay of justice
Justice of the peace
Free Speech obstruction
Case at the podium?
Three of the five captains in the Sheriff’s Office were notified this week they are under an Internal Affairs investigation, according to the deputy and sergeants unions.
The significant investigation into top officers in the Sheriff’s Office rank-and-file comes as the county awaits the results of a two-week evidentiary hearing that will inform whether the Board of Supervisors should remove Sheriff Christina Corpus for misconduct and retaliation
Reference common sense or request stand aside as holster cannot approach gavel or robes.
Otherwise custody must be taken of faculty for contempt.
None are in financial abandons realm of eminent loss of life from neglect.
Justice is not blind only silence for the deaf neglect the speech of poverty.
The poor writing are literally a parallel in and against overt war acts.
MAYAN MAY KINGS
Could there be a major masterpiece
Or any more May Mayan as this May poem
Inspired by Ken L Custance's
"Maybe the Mayans had it write?",
Mixed & made by a Masterdom?
Maybe!
This may be my own Mayans May piece; maybe,
Marinated by a Mayan May king,
Just as one maestro 'maynaic' major,
Not just a mate but the main man.
Indeed, this May is making many more mouth melting madly
Even Mae & her mate Mayor Mase,
Mason & Marilyn (their mentors) marry this May piece.
Now, none of us wants "mayonnaise smothered maize wrapped in romaine" anymore,
We will have whatever my "Mayan May Kings" serves.
Welcome, the month of May!
VickWizzy
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Reference: Ken L Custance's "Maybe the Mayans had it write?"(line 4,5).
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