Long Referral Poems

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


The Tapping Game: W-Coin's Tale

In the realm of Telegram's glow,
Where taps and tokens start to flow,
A game named W-Coin was born,
A simple tap, and wealth was sworn.

With every press, the coins accrue,
A world of crypto starts to brew,
Ethereum, Solana bright,
Or TON, each path a different light.

Fifty thousand strong at start,
A growing game, a beating heart,
Ten million soon, or so they claim,
Yet bots might play this numbers game.

Invite your friends, the tokens rain,
Referral bonuses to gain,
With each new friend, the levels climb,
Rewards increase with passing time.

Tasks and staking, boosters too,
Ways to earn and gather through,
Retweets, join, and play with glee,
Unlocking rewards, climbing the tree.

Stake your coins, let them rest,
Earnings grow, you'll be impressed,
Reinvest to tap with might,
Workers toil throughout the night.

In this game, the taps are gold,
A simple joy that never old,
W-Coin's world, a click away,
Where tapping leads to wealth each day.
Form: Concrete


Sounds of the Ordinary Gift

She gifted me a rubber band,
A quite ordinary rubber band.
I was getting enthusiastic, slowly
To test the limit of elasticity
To check the restriction of flexibility.

She gifted me a rubber band,
I was coiling it in my finger 
Then I observed it against the sun
Nothing extraordinary happened,
But, I could see the glowing sun
Inside this tiny, ordinary rubber band.

And, as I was doing this simple observation
I felt that nothing matters more now,
Other than the preferred way of placing the sun.
Should I need a referral for that? Unsure, yet waiting,
Only because she gifted me a rubber band
With all her affection.
I, in return, was thinking to gift the purple flower
That I saw in my backyard today,
Rather than telling her the sounds of the ordinary gift!

Premium Member Dance of Polarities

before our heart murmurs
emotes effusing tender love
effulgence of soul’s radiance
manifests in form seeds of bliss
as an expression of consciousness 
for eternity renewing its effervescence 
in a singularity wherefrom arises duality
within the vast womb of boundless space
that pulsations of love, always self referral
reflect back onto itself rapture of divine union
of itself within itself since there is no separation 

noticing the makings of the play of life underway
presence conspires with the universe in this game
that the beauteous dance of polarities in this realm
receptive to enigmatic currents of God’s magnetism 
create by benign bliss burns fullness within emptiness 
magically unfolding a plethora of love petals in our heart

30-May-2023

Premium Member A Friend In Deed -- Tribute To Mr Joe Bulgatz

If you ever find yourself feeling low 
Remember that you are no 'ordinary Joe'
  You were truly always there for me.

In 1988, when things weren't so great
Separated from my family  
  You were truly there for me.

I was living in a fetid flophouse
A place meant solely for down-and-outers
  Be they men or be they mouses.

You had mercy on my soul, Joe
Helped me move out of that hole
You were my sole damage control
  You were truly there for me...

When I finally got my first teaching job
A full-time gig for part-time pay
  You were there, Joe, to save the day.

At 2635 W Pratt you gave me a room
Saved me again from impending doom
  Joe, you were truly there for me.

Then you delivered the coup de grace
Referred me to the director of a place
With a part-time teaching opening
  That led me to a whole new weltauschtang

You rescued me living-wise twice, and that is nice
But even more than that your referral changed my life
As the faculty and student body of BRISK Academy
Led me to a place of clear thinking and sanity
  And eventually paid me handsomely.

Joe, you are not one for accolades or praise,
But if I could, I'd give you a million-dollar raise
  Because you were truly always there for me.

              Thank you, Mr. Joe Bulgatz
Whenever I was in need, you were truly a friend in deed.


                       April 24, 2018
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member The Poetic Commander Raven

Did the belt? Get its way? 
Wearing the pants of those who earn, just enough pay 
Commander should want to know 
Since dropping programs is a no go 
Stated from an image that used to be a spear 
Controlling those inner circle cheers 
Enjoying a Miller Busch beer 
Once again red skin sometimes burned 
Trying to learn 
How to use the tanning bed 
Playing with the voter's head 
Mailing it in, using Fed Ex 
Many gave RFK Stadium, a gut check 
Finding much decay 
Washington could not play 
And with the colts gone 
Northern harbor city needed a new dawn 
The Raven chapter was written 
Poe ghost was smitten 
This idea is most fitten 
Author spirit did concur 
Wanting the haunting message  to be heard 
About this dirty bird 
Who could make a stir 
When the powers that be 
Have a late luncheon tea 
To discuss a reason 
Why both should not have a successful season 
Since two hundred fifty years ago 
There were numerous Poes 
Who were just average Joes 
Challenging the King 
And his crowning aristocratic bling 
Until blood was shed 
And people were dead 
Tonight 
When DC and Baltimore stage this fight
Remember poems can spin a tale 
That could catch the rhythmic sail 
And become an anthem 
Of one poetic phantom 
Named Poe 
Who you all know? 
Since he took things to the grave 
Being brave 
Speaking his mind 
Only making a few dimes 
Unlike the Washington Times 
Who love the moon 
And its galactic enchanting swoon 
Where the wolf's howl 
When the commander's scowl 
Turning men into beasts 
Making them tackle in peace 
Not allowing anyone to die 
Due to a miscommunication lie 
Which could result in lives saying goodbye 
Lets play this football game 
And remember the name 
Who passed in shame 
Drunk 
As a skunk 
And should be warning to the rookie sleeping in the top bunk
It is not nice to hurl 
On the first ladies pearls 
You are not getting any referral 
Earl 
Instead, a yellow flag
Replacing a body bag 
And upon another review 
That is honestly pretty cool
Form: Rhyme


Dark Passage of Guilt

As I woke up in the night
I felt a whisper plainly light
It won my urgency and might
and left this stricken heart afire.

'Twas then I recalled amongst the ashes
a tragedy of placid acid
my conscience stained in moonlit blood
beyond these thoughts, just slits and gashes

Once more, to still this beating heart
I tried to nod and play my part
But it seemed my role was far ambitious
my guilt led me to emptier dark

In emptiness I started praying
believing He would be forthswaying,
maybe, even turn these drapings
into sympathy delaying

It seems the source of my DUE misery
was of a transformation of my making
the downfall plotted against my taking
the brother a thorn of mayhem 

I grinded his bones and shod my feet
until next lifetime I'll retreat
Until next night-time I'll believe
the lies I fed my soul to sleep

I heard the whisper, ever certain
A gentle tap, a jilted stirring
Except I now know the referral
that taunts and spoils my peace, eternal

It felt so real, a blattant lie,
Those swirling colours that painted my mind,
of fictional characters beyond this light,
just dreams illusions and deep rewinds.

And as the night faded away
So to the whispers dared play.
Into the silence, I stared ablaze
Afraid next nighttime's slumber scare.
Form: Rhyme

A Poem to trace back Niaz Murshed,the Internationally acclaimed Chess Grandmaster

The latest news about the Chess Grand master told the web space
That he joined the Independent University.
It took me to the referral of Time “Epoch,”
As the time travels through the walls of Jerusalem that boasted about 
God chosen people and Godforsaken people
As the power club that boasted that they are the grammar book of ruling
That will be decisive in ruling the border wall and ruling the ordered paul
Are they not transitory after the longest day, for a long forgotten gown
That never took me to any convocation, or any place other than
Howls, growls or a frowning town?
As they too, understood I yearn sometimes, for an incomplete poem
To cast in situ in wrinkle free attire and casual gabardine pants.
Is it too hard to let the past go? Or, that too, falls in the category of fornication?
After all they never had to toil like elders for a non graduated school dress
To avoid a Kaplan failure , eternally to sit  there in Baton Rouge!

Premium Member Who Should I Thank

You may feel about the planet what
you feel about a great baseball team or band:
that once there was a moment when, unknown
to us at the time, we convened
and lost and found ourselves in what we created.

Who should I thank for this day?
A fresh-mown lawn is a robin's repast.
A bear a black bear a rolling delicately dancing
graceful as silence sailing through the ferns and understory
unafraid and in no hurry.

My musician referral service, vacation rental business,
nonprofit management system, plant identification database,
great American songbook and anthology of poems. Coach says
in a thousand years back and forth games like lacrosse and soccer
will be played against genetically engineered primates

but baseball will be played solely by humans.
In a thousand years, amen.
Form: Verse

The Destruction of Miss Tree

THE DESTRUCTION OF MISS TREE 
 
 Miss Flower did not like Miss Tree, 
 Nor did Mrs. Sun,
 So they conspired with Mr. Wind & Mr. Rain to end Miss Tree's life & fun.
 " She blocks your ray, every day," grumbled Miss Tulip to Mrs. Sun,
 "and I cannot feel your warmth, unless Mr. Wind blows Miss Tree's branches some.'
 "I know,' chimed in Miss Flower, in referral to Miss Tree,
'she often flies into a rage when Mrs. Bee pollinates me.'
 Sefus, the squirrel joined the plot to destroy Miss Tree...
 "She's too small a hollow for storing nuts,'he snorted with superior air
 ' and she's constantly fussing with her fly away, green mop of hair,'
 So they all agreed, were of one mind and accord,
 Miss Tree must be driven away,
 so they called on Mr. Wind and Mr. Rain who summoned Cousin Hurricane,
 who uprooted Miss Tree that very day.

 Now Mrs. Sun scorches Miss Tulip & her sisters,
 without the protection from the shade of Miss Tree,
 and Mr. Wind and Mr. Rain perpetually complain since
 they've no branches to sway as Miss Tree's did so gracefully.
 and cousin Hurricane's been given all of the blame for the destruction of "beloved", Miss Tree,
 And Sefus, the squirrel has to carry his nuts wherever he goes,
 What heavy responsibility...with neither the hollow nor Miss Tree
Form: Verse

Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace