Best Clone Poems
I, The Clone
So that I would not live alone,
My parents thought I should be a clone.
They cloned at first two then four,
Then they cloned just four more.
Being the first parents in the nation
Practising exponential regeneration
They tried again to double the brood
Using methods not fully understood.
Breeding at this prodigious rate
I soon numbered two thousand and forty eight.
And, allowing for those not now alive,
Next became four thousand and sixty five.
So I continued to expand,
Filling up towns throughout the land,
And, some years after the age of consent
Held all the seats in Parliament.
And so it’s easy now to see
How I became my own M.P.
When I numbered six million and forty two,
I was army, navy and air force too.
At ten billion three hundred and twenty eight,
I became head of every state,
And, depending on my point of view
Deposed myself with war and coup.
So by accident or by intent
Became first global President.
Now four trillion seven hundred and ninety three
The only person in the world is me.
28th Feb. 2016
Originally drafted in the days of Dolly The Sheep.
I AM A CHRISTMAS CLONE
I’m brought to beneath the
Christmas tree every year,
I have learnt to hibernate
Eleven months,
Never shed a tear,
Have one fear,
It’s freezing in here!
I am not quite sure if
I am human or toy,
But know from feeling dizzy
I bring joy.
I must be a clone, for there are
Millions of me,
Beneath many a tree.
I have learnt to cope with a silent life,
Would be somewhat afraid to come
Out to a world of strife!
People talk to me I see their lips move,
They are telling me,
Play your Christmas jingle louder,
They forget I am programmed
And set in a groove.
I want to jump out and join
In the joyous
Laughter and play,
Please don’t pack me away again after
New Year’s day,
I long to touch your pretty face
I see, and hold your hand,
I long to open a present and join
Your merry band,
I see tears of happiness,
You seem so glad,
This should make it worthwhile, but,
I’m sad.
I’m stuck in a Christmas Globe,
But want to see more.
I see children running down the steps
With utter glee,
If I am dropped
My world would break,
Prepared to take
That chance, would I then be free
Will you make
Me a promise, to take
Good care of me?
Stuck in a Christmas Globe Poetry Contest
Sponsor Bobby May
My clone, all day it follows me.
The person that I want to be.
It always says that it is me
But never really is.
My clone, it knows another way
to see the world I’m in today.
But it is different in one way,
it has nothing within.
My clone, it wants to find out now
who is the better one somehow.
It acts and talks just like me now
but still is just a version.
My clone is gone forever now.
no more life left inside now
because I fought it and just now
I slowly watched it die.
If we each had a clone and one day we met
Walking with our wifey, a happy duet
Would we scream and shout
Or say thanks for the help
To help make our marriage the bestest one yet
To parents
I am the replacement
The new hope
To medicine
I am multi donation
An organ harvest
For a sick nation
To agriculture
I am renewal , without obligation
Mutton always dressed as lamb
To politicians
I am a universal pawn
To be bartered or thrown away
To war
I am the never ending battle
Action replays , tactics displayed
But without end
To peace
I am countless new white cross's
The reason you never count losses
To you
I am answers, questions, fear and elation
That contradicts all of creation
To me
I am a lost soul
I am freedom without control
Petri dish exploration
How can you call me son, if I am no relation
We were born identical
When we were created apart;
In very different wombs.
Now my mind runs to where you hide
Unobscured by camouflage
In the bright dim light of
Morally decade manmade nature.
I was created as spares for you,
But I think, and therefore I cannot
Spare you.
Spent by this affliction I no longer
See with blind crystal clarity,
But instead I begin at this end.
The invalidity of science
Has caused its own creation to
Abandon the method
For the metaphysical instead.
Twin, fear not death,
For when you are found,
You will only die to live.
Used up, you will be spared
From that exhilarating mundane
Life of genetic originality.
If I Were A Clone
If I were a clone,
Would I not be skin and bone?
Would I still be a man,
Or, would I be an “other than?”
Could my “twin” take me apart, piece by piece,
Like taking from a sheep, its fleece?
Would my heart be mine to give away,
Or, subject to forfeit, on any day?
Could I love, knowing that
On any day I might be flat
On my back, awaiting losing
My heart, without my choosing?
Would I be, angry or mad,
Or really not feel too bad?
He gave to me, this life
Should I give it back, no strife?
Please do not cry for me,
It is I who cry for thee,
We're the same, you and I,
'Cept my creator's not in the sky!
By now, you know it's true,
That I was only testing you.
By now, you know it's true,
I am not at all like you.
And yet, even that's not true,
I have life, just like you!
I had to ask you, just this way,
To find out what you would say.
Cloning's not legal now,
Except for sheep, or maybe cow.
Laws would kill me right away,
Maybe on this very day.
I worry them, I am a threat,
But, if they thought, I'll bet
They'd see,
That I could help humanity!
No more search for foreign parts,
Like kidneys, lungs, and hearts.
The trouble is, it seems to me,
What good would my body be
After all my parts were gone,
Would I fertilize a lawn?
With my body lying around,
Would they put me in the ground?
And say a word, like maybe “hero,”
Or would I simply be a zero?
A census taker came today,
Frustrated, she went away.
Page by page, we sought a box,
I appear to be a paradox!
Child of God, child of man,
It seems that no one can
Resolve the problem to this day,
This is what I would say:
“Let me live, just this way,
Question it another day.”
None so weary as the hard-working man
Moving as much dirt as he possibly can,
His wife does her share of shoveling, too
They’ve bit off more than they can chew,
Both need some rest from the daily grind
But it seems reliable help is hard to find,
They work their fingers bare to the bone
Too bad they each do not have a clone.
Written June 23, 2022
Must we clone other humans?
Given that our souls are a
Part of God, will clones have one?
How about conscience?
Clone.
Disguised deeper than skin
Look at me
Deeply into my chocolate brown eyes
What do you see?
When you look at me ?
Deeply
I see you
What do you see ?
What is true beauty ?
You are so beautiful
Flaws enhanced
I look exactly like you
Disgusting...
Toxic bones from the Jurassic
Walking amongst the masses
Current classes of classic
Acidic in shattered glasses
Sliding into yesterday
Their dancing shoes soulless
Catching on the high fever
Intoxicated on their madness
My clone is sitting alone
I watch him like my own reflection
How his problems he also likes to postpone
He doesn’t know that he’s my creation
One day the two worlds will collide
The real world and the mirage
The future and the past reconciled
Sink or swim in this deluge
Love bloomed even in clones..feelings won over scientific triumph
THIRD PLACE
love bloomed in clones…heart won, not brain, artificial intelligence failed
Granules of recollection rub like salt
Flailing in the fog of seven years ago
Deafened by incessant frog cries
Vines dangling began attaching to each other
Drying river stagnated, slime slippery with algae
Vigorous tree growth stooped in defeat
Muddy river banks fixed my feet, prisoners
Quick sand sapped my energy, ate my memories
Spears of bygone javelin my lungs, make gasp
Emerging from the mist of six years ago
Mountain side incredibly steep left me breathless
Static crinkle hissed between my eardrums
Channels flip changed without my inference
Hard luck hollowing trunks of high altitude
Offered to swallow my past, kindly include present
Flattened cushions of childhood fights , bring distance
Spinning cartwheels into oblivion of five years ago
Faintly flickering home movies startle between grins
Marbled images depict how we were, junctions punctured
Paths deviated, split decisions, moments distilled
Bottles broken, options poured, down the sink
Faltering swell glimmers foaming overdrawn fantasies
Slices rewound reflect fleeting of four years ago
Head barely above, awash in nonsense, victim of tides
Pushed under and pulled above, or is it more apt
the other way 'round, heavy, ocean surrounds drowns
Pencil case zipper obediently conceals, shoved down
Fragmented fragrant shavings of three years ago
Greyed erasers took too much, left the wrong stuff
Coloured stubs refuse to function, shrink upon prompting
Mirror tells me glamour remains against toughest test
High eyebrows, pristine lip lustre of two years ago
Marilyn wink in the blink of camera, busy filtering truth
Tree hugging Boho took over, appealed to populus ideal
Cocaine sand between toasted toes, garland encircling forehead
Currently I'm languishing in roses
bestowed by crown of thorns
* * * * * * * *
In the year 2319, we can only imagine how and what life will be,
Will there still be families, or just a pooled incensed, breeding sea,
Of writhing, intoxicated humans, clocking in for their lunch hour,
Trying to reproduce and gaining ten more points towards power!
Will mealtimes be as we know them today, or just merely queuing?
For a measly tablet which you must have daily, chewing thus renewing,
Your stamina to surf the planets at a graceful, fiercely unimaginable
Pace, you must be in Planet Venus by 8 docks, o’clock, fashionable!
As you arrive darkness greets you, your spirit, your being generates light,
Only on those you want to see or places that you long to be in spite,
Of the fact that if you stay too long, you sky home will be auctioned,
And your brain scrambled, and laid to rest, without been cautioned!
No rules, no policies, no systems, no charge, no one to give any rating,
Just chaos, and the thought of inhuman elimination, your clone is waiting,
And inherits your looks, your character, your wired and messed up brain,
And this clone will be cycled and recycled for the same to begin all over again!
British Biogenesis took a front seat
When the first bio-cloned sheep Dolly was created.
In a tiny glass test tube nice and neat.
All we need now is for it to be percolated.
Also a little know-how in kinestheics
And an advanced degree in biogenetics
Possibly the ability to follow deep,
And clear step by step directions on U-tube.
Voila! We are now making our own sheep!
I knew we could do it, with a bit of lube.