Long Impersonation Poems
Long Impersonation Poems. Below are the most popular long Impersonation by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Impersonation poems by poem length and keyword.
Wearing dinosaur boots
blundering through the city lights
of a brain high on low energy.
Being a concrete Tarzan
bending only to crumble
at the waist
while within me
a jungly place rains ripples.
Riding a speeding bullet train,
watching a fizzy sky crap on the window,
some idiot shouting: "Nothing can stop us now!"
A cow chugs beer, orders fries to go,
maybe the 'fries' are just a false memory,
most likely all this mash-up
is only a dreaming pipe-dream.
"Everyone should have a dream,"
some other idiot shouts.
Now or some time later,
I am mansplaining to a woman,
(her hair is so red
that it stops all oncoming traffic).
I manfully - painfully
describe just what a monkey-cart looks like,
trouble is I have only one morose monkey,
and one broken cartwheel.
She gets angry and confiscates my monkey.
All this has happened before I fell asleep,
I am almost convinced, yes it must have been.
Now I am swinging from a lamppost,
like some drunk after a Football League brawl.
"Dizzy times ahead," a pissing dog declares.
"Go Huston Oilers," I mumble, (I have no clue,
being irredeemably disinterested).
The mutts one akimbo limb
rests its case.
Somewhere in a swampy part of Ohio
An idiot shouts like an alarm clock
it's a piece of time
just loud enough to rattle dead bones.
I listen intently,
reluctantly I have to admit
that it really is a good impersonation.
She was lounging in my kitchen, in her yellow leather jacket
When I cautiously unzipped it, and spread apart the placket
I pulled the garment down halfway, up until her waist,
Exposing jacket’s underside, plush and creamy suede
Fashion notwithstanding, the yellow hide belied
The character of the wearer, snuggled up inside:
Pale and unassuming, she was delicate by nature
And the prudent thing to do, was not directly touch her
So I gripped the jacket's bottom, atop the leather, smooth
Beneath the overhung bodice that I just removed;
Her head was bowed, as if contrite
Which I took off — in one big bite;
Satisfies me, as does bread
When I eat such carbs, instead
And is the reason that I, Hannah,
Am enamored by banana.
A.I Chat GPT just type a topic in
and that masterpiece will spit out;
That’s all you really need to begin;
It’s the most unforgivable sin,
automatic art shouldn’t equal clout;
A.I Chat GPT just type a topic in;.
Poach what it means to be human,
write feelings you know nothing about;
That’s all you really need to begin;
Bots are a cheap impersonation,
broken tech leads to an idea drought;
A.I Chat GPT just type a topic in;
Pass us that false bravado no question,
incapable of a complex route;
That’s all you really need to begin;
You’re selected for instant publication
drowning without any depth no doubt;
A.I Chat GPT just type a topic in,
that’s all you really need to begin.
If we recognise the chief of our land,
Terrorism begins to sprinkle tension over where we stand,
He mobilizes strong cohort,
And always have different analogy over a dreadful plot,
Sometimes it's more than gross,
No more can we bear the stream of his mischievous laws,
But how can we undermine his primary sensuality?
Routinely,we complain about his pessimism,
But Stupidly,he replies with negativity,
Saying,"all things falls under fatalism",
The rate of his heartbeat will increase very soon,
After we're done with an amended rule,
He will regret being a chosen fool,
When I tell him to hand over the mantle as cool,
Proudly all of us will make his impersonation expire,
And you'll reign forever as we aspire,
In you,our security is high.
And nothing will make it die.
“which memories to us are near
moments of joy or those of fear”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Some like romance
Others horror films
Joys of innocence
Or adrenaline grim
Life is but a play
Which we direct
As actors we sway
Since we forget
When we do awake
We laugh at last
Burning at the stake
Was just a role cast
There is yet a catch
In the game enacted
Ego onto us does latch
Impersonation undetected
Upon so believing
That we are a somebody
The act of self deceiving
Attracts vibrations shoddy
Karma comes into force
Erased by inner cleansing
Shedding elements coarse
By love and light healing
Faster option is to recognise
In the here and now
Ceasing to weigh and size
No fears for tomorrow
Thus the so called awakening
Is merely the re-cognition
Whilst while meditating
Vibrant in blissful elation
08-December-2020
I am where King David was born. My name means, “House of bread”.
I am located six miles south of Jerusalem; 262 miles northeast of Cairo, Egypt;
and 140 miles southwest of Damascus, Syria. When the Caesars ruled, all roads did not lead to me, but to Rome. But still, I’m easy to find.
I’m not the first in mind when one thinks of the Middle East. But the prophets spoke of me as the place where a Jewish Messiah would be born.
Centuries later, the Jewish leaders gave King Herod vital information about me that caused him more than a little concern.
It’s not always what or who you are, or whether you will ever become a star.
God has always known about me, and religious leaders were well aware.
No, I never became a star of any kind; but wise men came from afar and were led straight to me by a star.
Nay, my friend, it’s not the size that ushers one to a place of renown. But it’s who or what comes out of you that makes one more that just a little town.
O yes indeed. I am that Little Town of Bethlehem that made room for The Bright and Morning Star. Out of me came The Christ Child, Jesus Christ.
12162016cjPS; (An impersonation)
Truth be told said topic minimally embellished
rather, prattling youthful looking
baby booming geezer
precious time (yours), he doth bilk
(cue sinister mock-up halloween voice)
moost valuable intangible
outstripping fine spun golden silk,
yet coronavirus (COVID-19) quarantine
drives dingbat to whole new level
wits end where sonar helps sound out his ilk.
Think me swallowing, gulping, and asphyxiating
essential experiencing ill humor versus zest
suddenly impossible mission life and death quest
in short oxygen with air supply
depleted blame climate change
analogous to getting trachea
severely pelted, pinched, pressed
nevertheless, I limber twigs to build a nest
simultaneously (choking, gagging, and laughing)
appeasing the impractical joker within/without
lame impersonation suave debonair beau geste
and pardon following hyperbole expressed.
More onerous (ha) to parish priests
tendering, regarding and administering last rites
aforementioned "fake" dead serious claim,
one little known prevaricator doth attest
(nip pulling excess milk of human kindness)
faux (pas and mine late ma)
gaming altruism confessed
dirty deeds done dirt cheap
hypothetically earning devout resuscitator
invoking divine intervention
upon impious hackneyed poetaster brownie points.
Now fur heal, aye really gotta
get get something off me chest
flagrant exaggerated golden opportunity analogous,
videre licet his achievements or service to country
What is your answer when you doubt?
A. Perhaps the occult or mystics
B. Learn some escape artists' tricks
C. Just memorize Proverbs 3:6
D. Practice the piano - Chopsticks
What’s your plan when you’ve lost your route?
A. GPS, time and time again
B. Try memory classes in Zen
C. Find your way with Prevagen
D. The tower -- Proverbs 18:10
What is your source for lack of clout?
A. TV shows on how to survive
B. The shield of Psalms 3:3 thru 5
C. Put your smile on overdrive
D. Google search on staying alive
What’s the key when you’re pushed to shout?
A. Gentle words – Proverbs 15:1
B Use headphones and go for a run
C. Do a mime impersonation
D. Pretend to use a machine gun
What’s your hope when you've bottomed out?
A. My dad, a college PHD
B. Las Vegas or the lottery
C. Stop drinking that Chinese green tea
D. Benefits from Psalms 1-0-3
March 25, 2013, edited January 28, 2023
Sponsor Suzanne Delaney
Contest Name The Multiple Choice Poem
The Restaurant Menu has a picture.
Three golden brown Pancakes
A large corn colored slice of butter
Melting on top running over the sides.
Griddle Cakes doing a Nathalie Wood impersonation
Drowning in a sea of thick maple syrup
Cartoon like ribbons of aroma rising upward.
The old man made them every Sunday morning before church.
Which he never attended
Black hair slicked back
Partially stained white Dago-Tee
Cigarette dangling from his lips.
The ash worming longer with each Popeye exhale
From the side of his mouth
Large bowl on his left hip
Attacking the batter with grunts of enthusiasm.
Tattoos on his arms flexing larger then smaller
Giving the appearance they were dancing.
Tatted when he was a Cook in the Navy
During World War II.
I imagined him storming the beaches of the South Pacific
With spatula in hand
"Don't need to cut'em with a damn knife.
Use your fork "
He'd holler wrestling the knife from my hand
Then throwing it into the sink.
Slapping the back of my head in anger
No Waitress wait!
I'll have the Waffles instead
With strawberries if you have them.
Yes, Waffles
We never had a Waffle Iron.
Cyber poets seeking buried treasure
filled with rushed rapture A.I’s hurried;
Robotic words never ringing no soul,
outraged console steady lagging;
Pop goes the weasel suddenly alive;
Bourgeois contrive it’s meant to be;
Left a jack in the box out of control
technology stole all the word docs;
Infinite is always within arm’s reach,
victims of a breach much too often;
Criminals that dip into a writer’s mind,
the destructive kind with quite a quip;
Murderous impersonation DM’s,
virtuous victim’s dark liaison;
Laying waste to the pen’s process it falls,
there’s nothing that calls or will impress;
Desperately seeking any sparkle,
you are not mortal and you’re stealing;
Cyber poets they cannot look within,
weak source of jargon without a hook.