Best Resemblance Poems
I am like a tiger, untamed
Free to go, unnamed
Roars to injustice
Leads the trial
Fears no species
Becomes no slave
I am like a tiger
In his speed and games
In his trick and claims
I am like a tiger
In its beauty in color
And its devotion that smothers
I am like a tiger
King of the game
Leader and the main
Claws as sharp
Steps as smart
I am like a tiger
I get what I want
In stealth and sly
I am like a tiger
I fight and never do I flee
Resemblance Is More Visible in Struggle
(by Kenny R. Placencio)
Resemblance is more visible in struggle.
When stability fades, truth reveals its double.
Through pain and strain, our likeness grows—
the shared reflection that only pressure shows.
In quiet endurance, connections form;
from every ending, a new beginning is born.
Embrace the struggle — you’ll find in this
a deep resemblance in all that is.
Heavenly sculptures floating high
Define those images I try
Is that a rabbit hopping by?
Each design changing art
Imagination on the fly
Once a frog, now a heart
Fluffed up egos strut on their way
White, cottony coats turn to gray
Blue disappears to my dismay
Light to dark brewing storm
Grumpy groans follow light display
Clouds looks like one cross swarm
You can see me in your face
(past version)
In life you didn’t know me.
I had died so long ago.
But in another when you knew me,
In an existence all aglow.
I hope someday you’ll find me
On some page with faded ink -
Part of your family history -
That undiscovered missing link.
Can you remember me?
I was more than just a name.
I lived and loved, gave birth and died,
And passed on my husband’s name.
Can you remember me,
From another time and place?
Gaze closely in your looking glass;
You can see me in your face.
Can you remember me?
Don’t forget me.
Gut-wrenching tears flow in torrents,
swathe of spasmodic gulp and shiver,
I weep stridently when haunted,
by moonlight ghost resemblance,
to my dead cousin, fleeting angel,
halo an eerie nocturnal cloud rim,
shrouded in haze of mournful rupture,
our deepest wounds precede the grim,
acknowledgement of threadbare memory,
feeble consolation as we quietly sulk.
to dull persistent angst with fond ephemera,
evanescent meek recall from bygone echo,
funeral cortège hymn neath mortal passage,
solemn midnight clan’s shuffle lachrymose
In the right corner of the hall a girl sat,
looking just like the girl in my
heart.
Then i took a close and keen look,
she was as beautiful as my girl looks.
Hands on cheek and appearance as that
of meek.
As i kept observing, i noticed her mind
was set strictly on a book,
so she won't even take a look.
Oh how i wish she will look my direction,
so i could catch her attention.
For if looks were all that mattered,
i wouldn't mind trading her for what
to me matters - my girl
Eileen looks sometime
Like America.
Sometimes,
America looks like Eileen.
Greed or need,
whoever designed it
is laughing at us,
despite its resemblance
to wealth,
it cripples health,
destroys the land,
flows freely
like grains of sand,
it spreads everyday,
like a necessity here,
it frightens without fear,
money and fame is the lure,
death is the cure.
There's somebody who is like a father,
he has a divine resemblance with Jesus:
merciful eyes and encouraging words:
woe to him if he does not preach what he says;
many young men have been easy prey for priests,
even Pope Francis couldn't cover up their lies...
and portray them with an image that doesn't err!
If Christ forgives, so we must forgive as Christians,
should those priests do it again: it would be hypocrisy;
they'd be better off cutting their hands than commit sin,
they should fall on their knees and ask God's forgiveness...
never be allowed to practice their hypocritical religion again:
men are weak souls and their actions lack sensibility!
There's somebody who is like a father and a truly devout,
and he fervently prays with folded hands for everybody,
should his intentions be evil, he would commit heresy;
leaving a scar on a boy's soul is a proclamation of the death
and having enough courage to protect himself: it's his right.
Recognize the signs of abuse and act with stealth...
don't resort to doubts and contradicts the child's revelations,
sit down and be a good counselor: listen to his emotions!
If Christ told us to love children for their innocence and ingenuity,
don't let these monsters ruin their young lives with indignation;
the perpetrator will pay both on Earth and Heaven,
if he reads the words of the Gospels and ignores them constantly:
let damnation fall on him and torment his vile flesh until he dies,
it's better to be ashes than a corpse that horrifies!
Stranger
When I first met you,
I had yet to face you,
Memories dug deep,
Presented as a heap,
Resemblance of me,
Your semblance deceived,
Ungrateful eyes,
And a fateful life,
Stories untold,
And memories unfold
A gaze and a stare,
Within the rage and despair,
Two strangers meet,
And sane they leave,
To horizons unseen,
And boundaries within..
My sister and me
two peas in a pod alike
age holds difference
INTIMATE RESEMBLANCE
imperious
visual
fragile &distilled
the self-view
delineated
confirming
intellect&dignity
clasping &celebrating
position
dispensed
tradition descriptive
&
ambitious
merges&defines
as likeness
persists
in
verity
THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE without grammatical symbols the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and respond thus making the form a two way interplay and often a unique interpretation by the enigma so derived
I am my mother
looking into a mirror
twin version of her
Floating, fluttering playing among the flowers,
A butterfly... I wonder if it's the butterfly or my Fu.
~Byeol
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Fu: in Chinese tend for husband
Flowers: here are used to resemble women
You have your Grampa's eyes.
You've got his easy smile and mannerisms.
You radiate contagious good humour.
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: 3rd place 2025