Long Doppelganger Poems
Long Doppelganger Poems. Below are the most popular long Doppelganger by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Doppelganger poems by poem length and keyword.
The hair was standing at attention on my neck again.
I was being watched. No doubts this time.
Validation comes on my spine and neck first.
I looked beyond the bushes, wondering if it was an animal.
Someone said my name. I waved automatically.
But no one was here. I was alone in the swirl of twilight.
Only a block to walk between the library and my dorm room.
The air turned cold, and I felt a quick urge of panic.
Was someone following me? My shoes clicked down the walk.
Slap. Slap. Slap. Slap. Slap. Slap. I was going faster now.
I turned the corner and there she was. My doppelganger.
Standing with my friends, howling at something.
My legs stopped walking. I shook my head. This made no sense.
You didn’t make it! A voice said. I turned to see my grandmother.
When the chandelier fell on you at the library.
Was there time to warn my roommate?
I ran over to her and tried, but she did not look at me.
What is wrong with her? I asked my grandmother.
She gave me a hard lined mouth look and faded away.
The next ones to come were not as kind.
I was torn from my friends screaming.
I went away for three full weeks
Down the cost and up some peaks
On a beach I rested for a while
When one night I met a beautiful smile
He looked at me with big blue eyes
HIs presence seemed to mesmerize,
As he spoke my heart grew fond,
In a second we had a bond,
He liked me similar or just the same,
Then confided in me about his shame,
Hours past and our conversation grew,
He asked me how it was possible that I knew
All the advice I did give
Was because in NY I had a long lost friend where i lived
He was Very similar and had that same smile,
Blue eyes of the ocean
And a wild style,
The only difference was this one had a cowboy hat,
And the one back home had a few tats,
What a crazy special day,
When a doppelganger came walking my way,
Instantly we were drawn to each other,
He was like my long lost brother,
I may have not been able to help the one from my past,
But that night this man did simply grasp,
All of my advice came from the first guy
Back in New York the one that made me cry,
Do you believe you can have closure?
By meeting another that has the same composure
Do you suppose I got a sign?
That somewhere that man was doing fine
We stayed up very late,
I was blessed that he was my fate,
For long ago I had met a dear friend
That’s life story made him want to come to an end,
And now I was exposed to the exact same fight,
But I know for sure this one turns out right
Now I know we all have a twin
Someone who is like us from within
Someone who looks the same way
Someone who sounds like us when we pray.
By: Sabina Nicole
Handy dandy blues clues plain
all purpose favorite refrain
i.e. "impossible mission"
courtesy complimentary doppelganger
G.I. ("Government Issue", "General Issue",
or "Ground Infantry") Jane
in tandem with Alyson Chain
comes to the rescue attempting
to describe entrenched nonproductive
crippling psychological mindset ascertain
most any reader would consider insane
embedded deep within
genetic code possibly
inherited maternal grandfather,
who emigrated nineteenth century Ukraine,
he (purportedly tailor by trade)
only spoke Yiddish,
language used by Jews
in central and eastern Europe
before the Holocaust.
Originally German dialect with
words from Hebrew, and
several modern languages and
today spoken mainly in US, Israel, and Russia.
Mental illness, (or predisposition thereof)
linkedin courtesy heredity,
supposition nuts so crazy nor insane,
yet nothing further about biology
Iberia lee kant hex Spain
emotional status concomitantly
intertwined with possible causes
such as: Autoimmune, Behavioral,
Cognitive, Neurological,
Environmental - inextricably lodged
within cerebral domain
manifesting as countless
fixations, I disdain
(in retrospect) precious time forsaken,
and absolute zero benefits to gain,
and inflicted severe strain
father and mother felt helpless,
especially when anorexia nervosa
nearly imperiled life source villain
rent asunder body electric drivetrain
brought corporeal standstill
loosed maniac running
rampant within brain
emaciation delivered me
at death's door
prescribed medications Mellaril and Elavil
nsync with psychiatric intervention plus
mother as licensed practical nurse wayne
wright me malnourished body
nutrient fortified drinks,
I passively did abstain
eventually grudgingly gained weight
buffering scrawny skeletal
skein knee membrane
definitely stunted growth plus chain
reaction impacted livingsocial
courtesy thank you me private Charlemagne
promoted cultural revival known
as Matthew Scott Harris'
Carolingian Renaissance.
Some days I'd carve a mirror of my own.
Though sometimes
There are such days,
Where I might render a judgment,
Just so I could instill my heart cold.
The intentional shivers I conjure myself to,
To put a pause on my marbling of others,
And mar on myself instead.
Oh, Apparition that condescends in a distance,
A reminiscent yet elusive doppelganger of my sort,
Slumberously mirroring my every gesture and emotion of thought,
Yet slipping out a totally different whisper altogether.
Like a soft spoken murmur drooling out,
Sung from and out of me,
But redirected at me and for me.
An asking to listen more while fidgeting less,
As a pumpkin slowly nestles on my lap.
Strange that it'd bewilder me,
The sight of a bittersweet pumpkin.
Castrated calmly beneath my fingers,
Yet warming up in an oven of its own.
Virtual trophies (wife for I)...
offered, husbanded, and collected
when winning solitaire
Nothing beats that exaltant rush of adrenaline
watching the computer generated cards
automatically routed
to their respective suite (spot)
(after they get turned face value up)
generates countenance to evince a grin.
This heart felt diamond in the rough
gamboling ace of a man
learned to call a spade a spade
soon after joining the culture club.
Within an alternate universe
another Matthew Scott Harris
destiny manifested beckoned uber lyft,
his militant doppelganger
(created entirely of antimatter
since birth of universe)
decked out in camouflage fatigues,
dead set on collision course
to annihilate each other
if and/or when we inevitably meet.
No place exists for yours truly
to run and hide
especially hermetically sealing
(while waxing poetic) himself
with booking selfsame mortal
within a read (reed) out hideaway,
hence impossible mission
to ward off sealed fate
lest (markedly) both of us
(even if reaching out
to bridge reconciliation)
blown to smithereens
methinks I and mine nemesis
would be wiped out
(cue the Surfaris song titled wipe out)
as if Thanos snapped.
The aforementioned scenario
far more horrifying than
livingsocial within human zoo
where *****sapiens primates,
an aggregate of many
a cruel genealogical yahoo
outliers rowdy unlearned without xue,
an essential constituent
of the body electric kool aid acid test
smartass who spout colorful retorts
analogous to up the wazoo,
but much more explicit,
therefore audiological
viewer discretion advised
unless one feels confident
to cast a magic spell using voodoo
ideally invoking debilitating, horrifying,
lustrating newt trill eye zing
permanent state of danger
or threat accursed
trumpeting lout can never undo
especially when joker is wild
whereat apparatus tricked out
fastening pollexes courtesy thumbscrews
perchance re-evaluating my person
when crafting image
conveying torturous schlock
after ye did pleasantly review
other writings of mine that did skews
toward humanitarian connectedness
painstakingly minding my peas and queues
wracking my brain
regarding creativity to peruse.
True add verse situation,
whereat me mission
trans send dint state didst ache
after yours truly nearly
did nearly break
chassis 'pon took drastic
over corrective measure,
not quite August,
nor jejune piece of cake,
while rounding raised
curbed contra corner
suddenly felt wrath of wife quake,
viz passenger rear tire
gone flat as a pancake
impresario found myself
hearing Thus Spake,
Zarathustra, when in truth...
twas ma constricted trach.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Some weeks back
acting so cool and chic - bank
king all bravado, machismo
self importance, and frank
lee babbling like a cripple creek
off by a black key with Hank
Williams tune imagining
myself swaggering like a lank
key trump petting Don
(feigning faw being "Beefy") plank
walking lampoon able
laughingstock Freaky, thank
less as a lapsed worn eraser head
pencil necked Geek yank
key doodle dandy hood be
forced to do penance as cap
pit dull leotarded asinine
arthouse flop, where nary any words
(worth their weight in gold)
described my benign
behavior, NOT even
smattering of unflattering deign
nig grating hammock colorful expletives,
that would find an ensign
sailor to blush at my inept
shameless travesty over the line
utter in apropos totally tubularly
moronic juvenile mine
ness zero car raze zee antics,
didst drive my doppelganger nine
tee bajillion miles away in search
of another auto body – pine
ning for newer model
then a 2009 Hyundai Sonata sign
ning off contract with this
stunt driver wannabe
unimpressively try'n
to act the blithe dare devil,
while thee spouse didst wine
and scream more'n bloody Mary
as the gunned axle nearly broke
trying my damn nest to
"FAKE" dagger a type cloak
his husband resembled a fool,
where angels fear to tread didst evoke
unsuccessful, unstinting, and unsparing
unstrung epithets of colorful expletives
unsuitable for poetic folk
boot urgent prayer went out
to incredible Hulk
Hogan, and/or even the ghost
of Andre The Giant, this haint no joke!
Penelope’s in a hopeless quandary, backed into a corner.
She enjoyed the flirt of youth. Had no one warned her?
She rejected freedom of reflection. ‘Who’s she? ...not a saint.’
Penelope painted on her face, mirror-perfection - faithfully quaint.
Platinum blonde tresses, like a fisherman’s net, she caught men.
Each quiver would fall helpless - guts and glory auf wiedersehen.*
Poison of poise and perfume - ahh, ylang ylang like chains.
With serpentine strength of a boa, in crushing the mighty, she reigns.
Caught by two knights, found unfaithful, she’s dragged to the quay.
“The truth,” one spit out. The other, “You witch!” ‘Another day
perhaps she’d do penance.’ She struck fast with doppelganger asps,
fastidiously holding them below their necks, she’d practiced the grasp.
Dear, sweet, tears - she’d developed an antivenom and a liar’s remorse.
Delicate angel, tender child - she fights fire with fire not with brute force.
She drops to her knees as the knights dive and she releases the snakes.
“Oh why! Oh why would these men leap to their deaths over me?”
The guards believe the improbable, gushing to her aid. Penelope’s free.
2/12/2021
Mind Your P's and Q's Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Michelle Faulkner
Word list:
Penance Poise Perfume Platinum
Quay Quiver Quandary Quaint
*auf wiedersehn - goodbye
In a Zombie’s world
There is no up, only down
And the ground is hard
In a Zombie’s world
There’s no forward, only back
An the doors are barred
But a Zombie’s world
All is not at all as it seems
There are hopes and dreams
One needs to be real
To fight and slay the dragon
Be able to feel
But one gets quite down
The battle tends to drag on
Doppelganger sound
Zombies come alive
For there are humans inside
When the Monster hides
Get it on the run
Climb upward and step forward
Ever towards the sun
A Zombie’s world is
A cruel, erratic battle
Joined on many fronts
A clash eternal
Tournament twixt beast and soul
Joust for mind control
The brain’s filled with bugs
Doctor kills them off with drugs
Smash the Monster’s hold
Psychotherapy
Talk the monster out of thee
To behave as told
The fiend is no fun
The Daemon is not the one
Nor is it the whole
If it becomes one
The Doppelganger has done
And joined with the soul
Told to leave at once
The Monster is a bastard
Magick words spoken
Victory is won
When the Monster is mastered
Its back is broken
Turning of the page
No price higher than the wage
No cost can be paid
It's not the ending
The monster's in there burning
Me still befriending
It’s in the yearning
Understanding and learning
Time for the turning…
"a heartbeat pulsating as living light
free from each and every limitation
I Am that dwelling in unbound delight
the source wherefrom arises creation"
I study the void
conclude it is light it craves
become lost within my calculations
dimensions unspurl
spirals catastrophise
until
spinning
cancels
itself out
and I am still
within my stillness I seek
seeing no ground
having no anchor
it is me that craves
I fear I am the void
should I internalise the vortex
walk the line dizzy
with hand unheld
gamble on transformation
to the entirety of light
see myself
reflected on the outer edges
not through another lens
let the doppelganger
drop away
what if that
Lapses in mindscape lane don't
denote being fantastical,
subconscious realm portrayed
by vivid thoughts as Déjà vu.
The body lingers and ages but
the Psyche, new as dew.
Countless times,
a reminder of certainty
that I was seen somewhere
when in reality,
staring inquisitively
into my TV.
Then I pondered, did
I unknowingly fall into a trance,
Or did time travel come knocking
unexpectedly?
and even if it did, again,
the lapses don't come to light.
Dreams are pathways to
meditation, that birth
happenings unknown
to this world. But the body
is a shield to absolute
exploration of cognisance.
My imaginary circus yawns
for transportation and
these scenarios distinctively
and simultaneously
visualize without limitations.
Not a pause for impossibility,
we see levitation happen as a tornado,
I can only imagine a gust of parading
doppelganger, I'm just not the witch elevating.
But my illusioned awareness puts me in diverse places through manifestation and imagery conception.