Long Reference point Poems
Long Reference point Poems. Below are the most popular long Reference point by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Reference point poems by poem length and keyword.
I set the clock to 1958, and raced to Desilu Studios.
Lucy and Desi both greeted me; I played with Little Ricky.
They took me home with them after the day’s taping.
We sat by the pool and laughed about everything.
They are much more fun in person than on TV.
I asked them a zillion questions, and they answered them all.
I wanted to know about other celebrities, and they gave me tidbits.
They had a swimming suit that fit me, so I went swimming with them.
They were gracious and fed me supper; I loved their food.
Everything was wholesome and wonderful.
Lucy told me that she planned to do back up tapes of her show.
It was Desi’s idea, so they would last longer. I encouraged this.
They asked me about 2020 and I told them about computers.
They were amazed, and could not believe it. So I explained the Internet.
They showed me their Word Book set and asked if it was like that.
It was difficult to explain, for there was no reference point.
There was a rumor that someday the TV shows would be in color.
I told them that this would happen around1964. They thanked me for that.
It was with a heavy heart that I said good bye; I had made three new friends.
It was a wonderful day for sure!
the page seemed innocent on the screen play of life
not yet computed and sterile but what better adaptation
of blocked writing by an innocent censor of apathy
for an empty cartridge on the blank canvas called reality
and yet what a relief that neurons had exhausted themselves
firing at invisible problems and surreal contenders for
thought of the moment and contempt fixed in time
synaptic displacement idiosyncratic only in absence
refuge or incarceration straitjacket of nothingness’ boredom
or maybe serene uneventfulness unfolding in languished arrest
framed as reference point of perplexing perspective
and finally an outburst of words with whatever elusive meaning there is …
Meeting someone who still believes in the goodness of humanity feels almost mythical in a world that has taught her to trust only what lies north of her own borders. She grew up with the nation above her as her reference point — its language, its culture, its shadow. And yet, when she looked at me, there was no hesitation, no fear of difference. There was only curiosity, the kind that bridges continents without needing permission.
I spoke to her in Italian, the language of my grandparents, the language that still carries the warmth of Sunday kitchens and old-country stories. She answered in Spanish, soft and melodic, like she was letting me into a world she didn’t offer to just anyone. Somehow, between her Spanish and my Italian, we found a rhythm — two languages dancing around each other, meeting in the middle like they had been waiting for this moment.
She was adorable in the way she tried to make the conversation work. At one point she typed in Spanish and let Google translate it into English, laughing at the robotic voice that didn’t match her sweetness. I should have kissed her then — not out of impulse, but out of recognition. Recognition that something rare was happening. Recognition that this was one of those moments that could have rewritten the rest of my life.
If I had taken that step, maybe we would have started a conversation that didn’t end. Maybe we would have walked a path that led us down an aisle instead of back to our separate lives. An Italian American man and a Mexican mamasita — two worlds meeting not by accident, but by alignment.
I imagine the life that could have followed: a home filled with the aromas of both cultures, a table where Italian hand gestures met Mexican warmth, children who carried the bloodlines of Italy, Hungary, Spain, and Mexico all in one heartbeat. A new generation shaped by Western grit and Southwestern soul, a living testament to the beauty of crossing borders — not with passports, but with hearts.
It’s strange how a single moment can hold the weight of an entire future. Stranger still how easily it can slip away.
But even now, when I think of her, I don’t feel regret as much as I feel possibility — the reminder that connection doesn’t need perfection, only courage. And maybe next time, I won’t let the moment pass.
COMMONPLACE PHRASIS XII
Reality dawns in my mind,a trhread that
runs through reason,a repository and
reference point in imagination’s flight.
Seeing what’s there to see,that single tree
in the forest of my mind’s eye.This
defining moment where inner
feelings fly free.Seeing things as they
really are,sharing the intimate
every ready to explore the pathos
of thongs with a blaze of words and
wordless lines.Who will deliver me
from this lonely path,talking to
the poetic deaf.I write to please
myself,to corner a niche or an
accolade,fly free of this daily toil
a loud voice within the clamour of
the crowd.T’was ever thus
From Retrospective a commonplace book 2009
Listen to me recite this part twelve phrasis on youtube under my pen name ichthys chiro
No voice is whispered in the void
Explosions inside the nest of stars
Ignite into the operas of the galaxies
Noiseless vacancies full of mysteries
Evolve, remain as vacuous as they are
Space, bridled by the fire balls of debris
To be explored once in the field of vision
That seem to come from nothing
Gone nova moving forward over eons
That follow in the open cosmic sea
Alternate universes yet to be observed
The ones with six dimensions or more
Vacuums pouring out pure particles
Emptying into something still to be determined
Into the unknown as wide as real as motion
To be defined, farther out in space
Farther than the mind can comprehend
Sounds that can't be embraced or heard
Out there, distances between the planets
Is enormous, before and after they are gone
So long measured in the calm before the storm
Reality is not mentioned here or there
Since there is no reference point to find
Too close for comfort as worlds collide
We resolve to change existence while in orbit
Bridged by alternate universes where planets rise
Stars go nova all the time
Elastic in an ocean of provocateurs
In the minus hours of creation
Jagged stones became much smoother
Edges compress in their rotations on
Filled in with shape and form
Earth was born in orbit
Weather forces wear down rocks
One size fits the planet well in gravity
Profound and rounded in ways too hard
To understand or simplify in cosmic terms
Conditions to strange to fathom circumstances
Or describe as fiction from long distances
More ovals on the horizon grow
Escape velocity stretched to the limits
On the elliptic mist where history lives
Rocks expand into the planets heavens
This all happens in split seconds over time
To fall all together from the sky to where we are
In every instant that can be conjectured on
Thought, as reality unfolds back on itself
Where it all began in silent matter conjured up
In the void, there is no noise
Space listens to questions postulated
Over distances filled in by vacancies
How can we change
The world from its sun?
Can we break the night and day?
Do we have the strength to turn
Away all our sins and dismay?
How can we change
The Son from His reference point?
Can we alter the path He chose?
Do we have the faith to believe
In the power of His Word and Blood?
How can we change
Our pre-existing conditions?
Do we have the courage to stand
And accept the truth of His mission?
Whether we believe it or not
The Bible is true!
Jesus died on the cross and rose again!
We must submit to His will and not shun
The power of His grace and rein.
We are born to love God
And love and forgive each other!
No matter what we may think or feel
Our lives must be guided by the Father.
The panacea for emotional and physical
Brokenness in life and culture
Found in Jesus Christ alone!
He is the only one who can break our chains
And save us from our own misery.
Karen Windle roughly on par...
with being a miniature poodle size dogsend
Apartment B44 one bedroom unit
at Highland Manor low income facility
housing older folks convenient starting point,
to launch poem and invite reader(s)
reason(s) without rhyme
why yours truly (me)
chose to express heartfelt gratitude
toward resident Karen Windle,
which named individual most likely unknown
across world wide web
(hmm... maybe methinks perchance
possibly ye did sound her out courtesy radar,
especially if thee dutiful patrol officer
generously handing out -
not necessarily) winning lottery tickets
within vicinity encompassing
University of Delaware.
We (myself and zee missus) inhabit
aforementioned single bedroom abode,
allows, enables and provides
convenient reference point
upon exiting our dime a dozen quarters
(housing near penniless occupants)
verily orient toward left of hallway,
no need to access global positioning satellite
leisurely amble short distance
just count three doors down on the left,
thee will espy name tag printed
small letters Karen Windle
her acquaintanceship we did kindle,
now greater value when measured with corn,
wheat, or other commodities
approximately equal to three bushels,
but varying in different regions.
Explanation whereby appreciation
toward Karen (spry firecracker, energetic,
diminutive, albeit frail looking gal)
materialized when series of unfortunate events
rendered me and mine spouse
without ready immediate access to automobile
near necessity within quaint enclave
identified as Schwenksville, Pennsylvania
affords absolute zero public transit,
hence necessity for chauffeur de jure arose,
whereby availability to shuttle us
found monetary compensation declined,
thus stymied intent regarding how I could
communicate sincere thankfulness
relieved when she would accept
poetic endeavor incorporating
best college try (mine) to alleviate
imposition if/when opportunity exists
to scrape meager money
and expect to sink a fortune
maintaining, insuring, fueling vehicle,
significant portion of social security (disability)
allocated to sustain reliability of car
dollar figure greater than buzzfeeding
caretaking, duties linkedin to
mental, physical, and spiritual health
concerning this aging baby boomer,
plus his counterpart approximately
previous couple dozen years.
I observed quite stunned as lambie
Voicfully blundered
T'was indeed.. A great vicseral verbal chunda.! Contradictve.!
As it goes.. Is she addicted.? I guess
God only knows.?
Educational standards.? Of this minister?
All seems so skewed, I think indeed she is
More like a (sin-ister) maybe been speeded up
By the w e f.? I have suspicon shes of the
Left.? Or p'raps past any known reference point? I fully expected to hear an oink.' I guess
I ln Davos they've flattered her hard.'said you
Are the only clever person, a star.!
All other Aussies being only retards.' And i'll bet.?
As they say in America..She swallowed
The whole nine; yards.!
Against the back drop of green leaf copses, dulcet bird chirp, and bubbling pavement fountains,
that dawning from the azure blue sky a silken whisper,
to follow street signs on my route to work with ample gusto and much verve,
each metal
pointer to destination a micro mirror on its surround,
stoic indicator of direction, that upright unique urban compass,
clustered by behemoth scenic grandeur at its mint spring zenith,
and surging throngs who sashay in brisk step patterns so diverse yet firmly focussed,
as I am whilst counting on that reference point, that fixed point usher,
that deep-dyed friend at each crossroad safe in the knowledge of arrival,
and in tandem with a spotless day’s heroic toil in bright prospect,
how symbolic are these pathway guide rails to one who warms to flagship growth,
in its august transit on foot slog pitfall strewn road of expertism,
pole mounted emblems, silent sentry solid, detail for me on daily passage.
“One’s Journey on Earth is sacred. Not to be handed to any drug, including low frequency love. Ego, a temporary illusion needs an illusion, need itself is an illusionary arising, like any drug.” Poet
~~~~~~~~~~~
soul needs no drug, remaining pure in stability
unbounded in unconditional love
FEAR rises its hydra head flavouring
itself with euphoria, craving followed by
withdrawal then relapse ~
Love hijacked in purity becomes
diluted, polluted, contaminated
an enchanting play of neurotransmitters
depressing, stimulating, synergising or
antagonising ~ all food for cognising
low level love aligns with drugs
addictive chemicals arise in brain as thugs
escaping pain, suffering not for soul gain
low level love experienced as moving
sensations nothing but preconceptions
ego sabotages Love in octaves low
drinks it brave like liquor craves
taste so intoxicating becomes addiction
elating, escaping from objective reality
one sees only density pulsating
love is drug when personality cannot
act independently from object of love
becoming tame dove - hesitant, petulant or penitent
when love is defined by rules or regulations
it sails like a hidden battleship, unseen whips
no free will equals damnation
low level love like any other drug curtails
freedom of decision making
often of movement becoming nail to jail
presents as safety net, y’all bet
imposes itself on Being of another
a drugged attunement, insipid inducement
love is drug when service is obligated
when connection not mutually beneficent
incompleteness rise in absence of other
resonating artificial, superficial
love is drug when other becomes reference point for action, evolution or satisfaction
dependency darkens energy of object and subject underlined by need to feel safe
this equals no faith
as L O V E ascends its octaves into
independent
S O V E R E I N T Y
it stands in courage serenity trust
no need for low level love
concoctive as a humbug drug
_________
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