Emulated Poems | Examples

like the father the son

Like the father, the son
He is a lovable rough, the father of a famous son who keeps us guessing what the hell he is up to next, a father who is a buccaneer, sails the deep sea, and fears not the tempests on his way, can a son ask for more.
The father never was a nine-to-five sort of bloke who operated at the edge of the law, like a pirate would, fingers in many lucrative pies, that is what daring men do those, who believe in themselves and live to tell the tale.
The son might lack the old man’s charm, still, he has otherwise emulated him but prefers to stay ashore, an influencer of magnitude selling his ideas to those on top of the political heap and like his father faces tempest with bravado.

As for me, a shy poet, thrown ashore with irregular works and lacking the go-get appetite for life, his father is the type I wish I were.

Yesterday's Wishes

Without sugar, I'll sip on my espresso
I can still taste yesterday's sweetness

We abandoned yesterday's mistakes, worries, and despair
all money in the world cannot resuscitate yesterday
our actions and words are irreversible somersaults.

Yesterday's wishes dried up like lost dreams in the woods
golden skin echoed hollow vows with a wistful, spun glow
Alms shimmer like souls, but we can't rule out karma
we must avoid future risks, hurdles, and a stoic canvas.

Dreams and stones mingle, like torn bones or hearts
sun rays dye crimson roses—an icy reminder of lost shine
Gypsy whispers, dancing blades, and wigs create chaos
broken glass shards can form vows and heal scars
hedged hymns that hum in hectic hoods are tedious.

defied the cosmos and sought fortune and fame
revered and emulated idols of love and peace
but wished to be Gandhi or Mandela and achieve triumph
Philosophy and psychology foster love.

Pinprick orbs, a bohemian strain, drift with sun dust
everything I remember seems like yesterday
If life gives you the embers you asked for, embrace the pearls.

Fan of Jan

I`VE BEEN READINGS LIMERICKS BY JAN,
TO EMULATE THE BEST THAT I CAN.
SHE CAN WRITE ABOUT POOH,
STICKY STUFF AND GOO.
WITH THE SAME SENSE OF HUMOUR AS A MAN.

NOW I WILL HAVE TO TELL YOU ABOUT DIRK,
ALWAYS ACTING AND BEING A JERK.
HE WOULD GET OUT HIS WEENUS,
SAYS IT LOOKS LIKE A P*N*S.
YOU CANT HELP BUT LAUGH AT THE BIG BERK.

SO THAT WAS MY LIMERICK FOR JAN,
I EMULATED THE BEST THAT I CAN.
BUT SHES THE LIMERICK QUEEN,
YOU ALL KNOW WHAT I MEAN.
KEEP MAKING US ALL SMILE, PLEASE JAN.

Anticipations An Open Form

ANTICIPATIONS

with
 apprehensive
contrasts
in
 sombre
 glimpses
 totally
 themselves
&
so
 necessary
 to survive

disquiet
made
manifest
in
 venerable
tradition

an
 intensity
emulated
with
hypnotic
fixity

a
considered
 significance
  evident
&
perceptible
with
an
indicative
corrective
descending

an
 embarked
inclination

A Salute To My Favorite Poet

Poets aren't noted for raking in dough,
They may get some attention,
But it's mostly for show.
Take, for example, the bard Ogden Nash,
His writing brought him great pleasure,
But he still worked to earn cash.
From mail room to Broadway,
With other jobs in between,
But no plebian endeavors
Could his verses demean.
His humor's urbane, erudite, and compelling,
And when a word wouldn't rhyme right,
He adjusted the spelling.
Of all of the poets the world has created,
I like quite a few,
And there're a few that I love,
He is the one I have most emulated,
And if he could read my poems,
I like to think he'd approve.
As a general rule rhyming's easy for me,
But at times when I'm stymied or fogged in,
I don't take time to snivel,
Or settle for drivel,
I take heart and start channeling Ogden.


Entered in Beloved Poets Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Regina McIntosh
Jan. 10, 2023
Fourth Place
Thank you, Regina

The Time Has Come To Bury Tim

the time has come to bury tim
his artificial heart could not take the reality
when he was born, the world became more colorful
his energy and his smile was like water to what once was
i will remember his baseball card collection and his passion for the game
he could have been another ozzie smith for he cut enough flips
he idolized derek jeter as well and would light up when he saw him play
when his weak heart expressed itself, gone was his original dream
however, he found another
after reading poems by e.e. cummings, he tried to write poems like him
tim emulated and imitated until he made it his own
one day i will post a few of his works
until then, the time has come to bury tim
rest easy, dear sweet nephew, i was hoping that you would make it to ten

Poetic Words

Poetic Words
I  like when you speak to me calmly softly
In a loving tone of voice, when you let
me feel your warm expressions why I can't
help too warm up to you

when you talk to me, not at me
I Feel safe to express thoughts better kept
Why  I feel like wanting to speak calmly
expressing myself, sharing our love

You let me speak, drawing my lips close to yours,
Your very presents I sense, moves me in ways
effecting deep sensations, emulated from you
while love is transmitted through my poetic words

I'D Never Done the Mirror Sex Move From American Psycho

Next to my mattress
  is a mirror
decorated with crude stickers
stolen from a dirty bathroom in
        a seedy bar
    in Polish Hill.
Great for staring into when waking up
                                      for the day.
My ex-girlfriend also liked it 
    when we had sex, because
           she enjoyed watching herself bounce
    on me, on my memory foam, 
                                                    admiring her heavy-breathing form...
                                                         But I've never looked into it
    during sex.
No.
     I avoided it like Medusa's head of snakes!
           I've never done the mirror sex move
                     from American Psycho;
                     never emulated Patrick Bateman,
flexing while inches deep in a tight,
   sopping . 
                             No,
   no Huey Lewis and the News either--
                                          no music, actually.
All that could be heard were muffled moans
         and pleasured panting.

Those Who Saw Remembered

Frothy lavender chiffon swirled around the young beauty
Rustling in an almost silent delicate, dainty manner
Her essence so cosmic that the skies emulated her loveliness
The heavens opened up to envelope her into the landscape

Many who saw recognized spirituality and hope taking place
Some watched reverently full of mystified awe and wonder
Almost everyone who witnessed her remembered this day
Intermittently through the rest of their life.

Emptyness In Harmony

He listens to fountains of desiccated tears in the desert of his mind

	Tastes echoes of vacant sounds from the soul of dissonant void

Disintegrated unison reaches out to his blind visons' flashing blisters

	He smells feelings of decay pumping in heart failure’s congestion


The hallowed devil dances in Valhalla and consecrates cacophony

	Until the clock strikes midnight in the no man’s land of no return

Blinded by detection deafened in awareness he retreats into his shell

	Returns to the safety of shibboleth’s indecisive loneliness


With what remains of distant passion he gathers cinder’s fragments

	Strikes a match from heaven and listens to the wood worms crackling

The ‘bonne’ fire raises his spirits in a fluent synthesis of emulated immolation
 
	Finally he throws caution to the flames and feels the heat again 


02nd June 2019

You Were Never What I Wanted

You Were Never What I Wanted
Why cast me as the villain
with your evil, insane lies?
Was it so reprehensible?
I permanently said, goodbye

Does the fact I’m no longer pretending, upset you?
My emotions, detached and nonchalant.
I tried to muster up the passion; you aren’t what I want.

Red eyes weep at the sounds of whispers,
anger rises amidst painful remorse.
intimate details paired with laughter
Still, I’ll remain on course

Although chaos fills the mornings,
I’m certain the moon will rise again at night.
I can‘t replace what breathes inside me,
I struggled to smother it, tried to fight.

It would have made my life much simpler,
maybe fixed what broke inside my mind
if I could have emulated your state of wanting
ceased believing lack of desire, is a crime.

Does my heartlessness, offend you?
Not that my dance card is marked, full.
You destroyed me with your rumors
this newfound freedom remains my will.

Why Would White Supremacists

Why Would White Supremacists

Why should white supremacists be emulated;
We have hesitated and then been humiliated;
Many feelings hurt;
Did treat like dirt;
So must remove each statue that is outdated.

James Serious Mysterious Horn
Retired Veteran and Poet
Bolivia, NC

My Next Ten In One Limerick

Woke up and these were on my mind.

Away, stay, say, may.

Waited, adulated, emulated

Contemplated, ill-fated, denigrated.

Send, extend, bend, attend.

Console, extol, sole, troll.

There, care, share, where.

Utmost, perfect host, boast, ghost.

Talented, prevented, consented.

Situate, hesitate, wait.

Obstacle, ridicule, mule.

Your limerick challenge for the day.

Jim Horn

Rebirth

In low tones we chatted
On the steps to her porch,
We talked of the decades
Since I’d carried her torch—

Of love we knew nothing
During young naïve years
Of kissing and fondling
‘Til I left her in tears,

For the navy enticed
With ships and adventure:
I sailed away keenly
Aware that I missed her,

Each ivory cloud roiling
I watched sculpt her face,
And the foam in ships’ wakes
Emulated her grace.

How her leer glowered down
With each floozy I’d bed;
Her glare did accost me
From the face that I wed.

But that marriage was fey,
On a short vine it died:
I had loved only once
So to find her I tried:

Thus we sat on those steps
Last night swapping stories,
We confessed of our lives,
Our failures and glories …

And the kiss that welled up
While lightning bugs popped,
Led haltingly bedside
Where our slack clothing dropped.

We then gripped and embraced
Through a torrent of mirth—
Time relented at last
And our love found rebirth.


October 22, 2016
1st place: Long Distance Love Contest/October 19, 2016
For 1st Place Only Poetry Contest
Laura Loo

Rebirth--Long Distance Love

In low tones we chatted
On the steps to her porch,
We talked of the decades
Since I’d carried her torch—

Of love we knew nothing
During young naïve years
Of kissing and fondling
‘Til I left her in tears,

For the navy enticed
With ships and adventure:
I sailed away keenly
Aware that I missed her,

Each ivory cloud roiling
I watched sculpt her face,
And the foam in ships’ wakes
Emulated her grace.

How her leer glowered down
With each floozy I’d bed;
Her glare did accost me
From the face that I wed.

But that marriage was fey,
On a short vine it died:
I had loved only once
So to find her I tried:

Thus we sat on those steps
Last night swapping stories,
We confessed of our lives,
Our failures and glories …

And the kiss that welled up
While lightning bugs popped,
Led haltingly bedside
Where our slack clothing dropped.

We then gripped and embraced
Through a torrent of mirth—
Time relented at last
And our love found rebirth. 


October 14, 2016
Long Distance Love Contest
Nicola Byrne

• Short Emulated Poems
• Famous Emulated Poems
• Best Emulated Poems
• Read Emulated Poems
• Long Emulated Poems
• Emulated Quotes