Long Carbon copy Poems

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


Premium Member See You At the Movies

In Memory of my close, good friend, Roger Ebert, international movie critic from Chicago, whose wisdom and warmth…. left us far too soon! 


    Some made me howl, some put me in tears.
    Some so adventurous..I was in total fear.
    These are ones, I have seen more than once.
    Truly, making me as pleased as punch.


Annie Hall
Big
Bananas 
Best Years of Our Lives
Beverly Hills Cop 1,2
Black Orpheus
Black Swan
Casino
Carbon Copy
Christmas Story, A
Coming to America
Copycat
Damien
Days of Wine and Roses,The
Dirty Harry Series
Days of Wine and Roses
Evil Under the Sun
Fargo
Fast Times at Ridgemont High
Final Conflict, The
Firm, The
Fugitive, The
Flatliners
Ferris Bueller’s Day Off
Goodfellas
Hannah and Her Sisters
It’s a Wonderful Life
Jaws. 1,2
Klute
Lethal Weapon 1,2,3
Licensed to Drive
Lost Boys
Midnight Cowboy
Miracle on Thirty-Fourth Street
Omen, The
Poltergeist
Professional, The
Rebel Without A Cause
Red Shoes, The
Risky Business
Romeo and Juliet
Rosemary’s Baby
Schindler’s List
Sixteen Candles
Serpico
Sharknado
Shawshank Redemption
Space Odyssey
Splendor in the Grass
Stripes 
Umbrellas of Cherbourg, The
Uncle Buck
West Side Story(1st Version)
White Christmas
                  
                            7/29/2022
                               ~1~
Form: List


Premium Member Being Me

I am what I am,
As I always have been,
From the time when I first was born;

And for me to try,
To be anything else,
For certain would leave me forlorn.

True happiness comes,
From accepting yourself,
Not trying to be like your brothers;

For we each possess,
Both virtues and faults,
Though some may differ from others.

Each of these things,
Form the basic make-up,
Of each individual person;

And as long as God,
Is happy with that,
We've no call for jeers and for curses;

So I will be happy,
Just as I am,
For that is all I can be;

Not some carbon copy,
Of somebody else,
I'm too busy just being me.




For "BEING" contest by Paula Swanson
© Judy Ball  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Their Image Forever Embedded Within My Mind

I have never believed I would be blind
To eternal sunshine that's mind

The day you were born was the beginning
My heart's petals bloomed most compelling

Tears of joy I shed while I saw you smile
In my arms I knew the pain was worthwhile

Lullabies sung and hummed to bring comfort sleep
As you lay in your crib without a peep

Challenges as you grew with bumps and bruises with footfalls
Sticky fingers, scattered toys, fancy artwork on the walls

Meaningful memories as I look into your eyes
Of the mischief you use to get into, but I was wise

I'll always be here whenever you need me
Stand by you, whoever you decide to be

Eternal sunshine that was mind is still my total joy
Don't ever forget you will always be my little boy

I miss those days we took the time to enjoy
Reflecting in the year's past of your favorite toy

Was also your security blanket that you always kept near
A mere little stuff rabbit you loved so much dear

If it disappeared, it would always returned unstained
From the washing to the drier because it had been so stained

As you grew older the little artist and Shakespeare you became
Pictures, flowers, poems I would find I'd date and write your name

There were times fear overtook your little mind sweetheart
You would walk in your sleep until the pain would go away from your heart

You'd whisper in my ear to tell me you loved me
You always wanted to be like your daddy, inventive 

You've become a man, "Mama I love you" you still tell me
You've become the carbon copy of your dad to a tee

We are so proud you took the road of responsibility 
You can pursue a world of endless possibility

You are still my little artist and Shakespeare full of joy
Don't ever forget you will always be my little boy



5/10/2018



Their Image Forever Embedded Within My Mind

This is dedicated to my three wonderful sons that I cradled in my arms and wish I still was
© Eve Roper  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

Metaphorically Speaking

This is the story of who I am
I give all I can and then some.
I, a bee, will sting if you wrong
If nice, an help mate I will be.

Many are the roads to one’s heart
The main road, truthfulness, is a very good start."
You will get caught if you fool around 
You are unfaithful you're out the door.

They say Tom's drunk but Tom’s no fool
I don’t drink no more so I am super wise
I, the carpenter’s tool you use 
despise liars, and heart users I hate.

I am me…super special me
A carbon copy I am not
So here I am, a pure clean heart,
True love to give, only to him that’s worthy.




Written on Sept. 8 2012
For Catie's Contest: Metaphorically Speaking

The echoes of others

I walk among a ground where life is a trend.

Yet we don’t understand where’s our beginning and our end.

The burden to be like the rest.

We all stand shoulder to shoulder duplicate.

Not proving we are all imperfect.

The pressure to keep up.

But the feeling to be distinct.

I say to myself

“Am I really who I want to be”

“Or am I a carbon copy of other souls”

These patterns are confined in a box.

But do I have a key to unlock?
 
Proving ourselves to be different.

Is this really the craze we mimic?

Or is it an illusion we may just dismiss?

Time will tell it all.

But for now we just follow the ball.


Romeo and Juliet

Romeo and Juliet

Give me a kiss
Under the stars
And serenade
Will be my surprise
Give me your love
In return, I tear off
A starry galactical bit
And that piece of cosmos 
I will set at your feet

So wonderful, decent
My Prince of Desire, 
Such a pleasure to listen
To your gracious whisper

Well, loving and being loved
Means everything
While loving is nothing,
To be loved is something

I’m surprised honey
Really surprised
By the products
Of your mind
You’re my
Super-intelligent God

I live modestly for the present
I live one day at a time…
I live a humble life
I’m a thug loving donor
A warrior
There is no stronger bond
Than our

You’re my impeccable replica
Immaculate match, my love
A mirror image, identical twin
Coequal, a ringer, a carbon copy
There is no better merging
In such a high grade blending
When love cultivate 
Grow cast-iron able-bodied
Merely prospering 
In an ideal coupling

You are the cutpurse embezzler
Heartbreaking housebreaker
Smuggling pirate,  a sexy thief
A hijacking mischief
You snitch-snatched
 my heartstrings

I am the invincible giant, a Goliath
A behemoth colossus, an elephant
A virtuoso champion, a titan titlist
Well-rounded sure-handed Medallist
I did a good job in stealing it
No concurrent could defeat me in it
© Aniko Puky  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

Black Mass Wedding



    Self's colors-change in the modes of wanting, 
as a chameleon in the daylight, 
as the seasons fade to black, hunting season
where loyalty is clothed in sackcloth, 
used as a knapsack with monogrammed font. 
To embellish the pride inside, attacks reason.
Game played, war waged against trust and integrity,
hair trigger, sights blurred and uncalibrated.
 
Sport saved for fair weather and played-with 
when in moods of folly-misunderstood 
as heart's pedigree, but self the only royalty.

In the mists where lovers-lie, dormant 
on the rocks of
sacrifice, 
sprayed and neutered with the scent of the world, 
blessed by holly-wood burning to ashes, 
embraced skeletons of Pride's carbon copy fairytale.
Convenience, just a behemoth-witch of cull,
changes the love's color to grey-scale, 
when it fits the bill of soul sale.
No effort no altruistic deeds, 
no walls scaled or ride on valiant steed, 
no searchlight, or care but for selfish greed.
Just a crone noose and bonfire of vanity, 
just a cast of thespian spells playing part 
in new reality.
Scale-weighs, and reckoning's executioner-pendulum swings 
and approaches with royalties-undertaker 
with box of pre-fitted manacle rings
empty in hand save for null need,
as truth-sees eye to eye-darkness looks away, cares not for its deeds,
Rewards itself handsomely, 
a black wedding knot to tie.
Vows weigh the truth's true order of things,
from it's wheelhouse shipwreck beacon by the sea.
Sees souls found wanting, rescue, denied
and sees the light go forth from it's spotlight, 
a disorder to groom with a whore for a bride 
and open bedroom.
A vacancy window, black hole portal that blocks the sunlight from it's boardroom orgy of doom.
Form: Rhyme

Saigon 2019

Saigon 2019


Vibrant, vivid, exciting
A city on the move
Becoming a world-class city
Yet still with a Saigon swagger

Wandering the streets
Dodging the traffic
Admiring the women
Enjoying the food

Saigon enters my heart
And I know that I will be back
This city is growing on me
Reminds me of Korea 

One hopes that as it develops
It will not become a carbon copy
Of other big Asian cities
Obliterating its past

In search of a false modern image
I hope it can retain 
What makes Saigon Saigon
And not become another Gangnam

Hope it does it with Saigon style
And the people will evolve
The country will emerge
And become what it should be 

The Paris of the East
This is my vision 
as I wander about 
enjoying Saigon in 2019
© Jake Aller  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Quatrain

Premium Member Being Me

I am what I am,
As I always have been,
From the time when first I was born;

And for me to try,
To be anything else,
For certain would leave me forlorn.

True happiness comes,
From accepting yourself,
Not trying to be like your brothers;

For we each possess,
Both virtues and faults,
Though some may differ from others.

Each of these things,
Form the basic make-up,
Of each individual person;

And as long as God,
Is happy with that,
We've no call for jeers or for curses;

So I will be happy,
Just as I am,
For that is all I can be;

Not some carbon copy,
Of somebody else,
I'm too busy just being me.



(To Thine Own Self Be True)
© Judy Ball  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Triolet

Premium Member To Thine Own Self Be True

Never shed your skin
       like snakes often do. You lose 
            your core sense of self;  
                 large chunks of it
            wearing an ersatz skin.

           Being precisely yourself
            is being blissfully free. 
            Are you free? At peace?
             Does your soul dance
        with unalloyed contentment?

                If false, why not be
    the same face staring back at you
           in the mirror? Why not be 
               the same beautifully 
          imperfect you in solitude?

           Be content wearing only
           your own mask. So what 
            if its cracked? Your skin
           is the only one you need.

           Stay as you are; not less,
     or greater than, or a carbon copy.
         Lest you become a stranger 
          in your own life; a prisoner
                   in your own skin.


Submitted for...
Strand Select M,Any Form ,Any Theme Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
Date: 02/12/2020

Date written: 08/27/2019
Form: Didactic

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