Clone Poems

Never Let Me Go - Kazuo Ishiguru

Love bloomed even in clones..feelings won over scientific triumph      
                               
         

Mimes Plans To Clone Herself

When I clone myself, I will make a marionette the Mime told me.
A great idea, as any observant hypervigilant watcher can see.
I watch her marionette dancing in a happy summer time way.
And I think how much fun the Mime must be, merry and gay.

The Mime is a trickster though, wearing a faux happy mask.
She makes

My Clone

My son Scottie and me
Are like two peas in a pod
The word “clone” surely comes to mind
His humour is the same

His carefree look at life matches mine
There is no mistaking Scottie boy is my son
He's also inherited my creative genes
Following in his Daddy's footsteps

A techie version of his old man
Did I mention I'm proud of

A Diverse Clone

WHO am I if not you and all of yours in every way, while still unique to my own?
WHAT is the difference? How irrelevant when we are so much the same
WHERE is defined by borders of control, despite the answer being equal for us all
WHEN shall we accept each other and ourselves instead of facilitating

In Need of Clones

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

Send In the Clone

‘Do not disturb’ sign on my phone,  
the struggle is real with time zones; 
Too tired to feel alive 
can’t miss this Instagram Live, 
maybe I will just send in my clone.

If I Had a Clone

If I had a clone
I would send her to my faculty meetings on Wednesdays.
I would have her do my paperwork.
I would have her clean this bedroom.
I would not be too friendly,
I would not engage her in idle conversation.
I would keep her busy, doing everything I detest.
She would vacuum, cook, clean, dust, and mop.
If I had

Utterly Forgotten

Utterly Forgotten
They set out to make a man like you make a car in a factory
It was a production process starting at step one till the end
When you’re left with the finished product and the job is done
Step by step following instructions and designs and plans
Not missing a single bit or doing it in the

Clone-God, Part Iii

...A flush of green-yellow liquid poured out
and disappeared into a large floor drain,
a fetal figure was slumped in the chamber,
and to Tom he couldn’t seem much more plain,
a human being like him, just the same…
He thought he had done it, but had no such luck,
because then, to his horror, the man stood up!

Tom stumbled back

Clone-God, Part Ii

...Now human cloning is always borderline,
but it this case all agreed to it, fast,
a chance to disprove a major religion,
what academic would pass up that?
A good many of them seemed rather glad,
but they all agreed to do this in secret,
they had to be sure, and were not there yet.

They took the DNA, and a donor

Clone-God, Part I

It was in the year 2040,
in Vienna was where it all began,
folks were looking at the Lance on Longinus,
when they saw something they couldn’t understand,
on the spearhead was dried blood, from a man.
The faithful all proclaimed a miracle,
but science wanted to study this in full.

That, of course, caused lot son controversy,
some feared testing would destroy

A Clone of a Clone

Paint me a picture, sing me a song
Show me the niche where I belong
Carve me a sculpture, build me a house
Show me the library where I can browse
Write me a story, stitch me a quilt
Inside the house you already built
Cook me a meal, teach me to fish
Blow out my candles and make me a wish

Now

M Is For Mammoth

M is for mammoth, big as a barn,
with long woolly hair that's much warmer than yarn.
He's 15 feet tall from his toes to his head,
(much too big to keep in the gardening shed)
He's got really big tusks and he weighs 13 ton,
and he stomps on saber tooth tigers for fun.
He wandered the plains munching bushes

Countdown To Clone Day, Rubbish Writing

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

Sigh Clone

A man soaking wet from the rain
Sat serenely sipping champagne
He was not a lush
Nor in any rush
Since he brought his own Hurry Cane

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