I am not
the small, lone girl who
runs and jumps
on her lawn.
I am strong: beyond hurt. I
am power now. Me.
My cloak floats
out from my shoulders.
One leap and
I fly high,
up, up and AWA-A-A-A-Y — oh yes,
I am Superman!
Submitted for dVerse Poetics - going Comic challenge. (The form is a double shadorma.)
smiles....i like that we are more than can be seen in just a glance...and finding that power within ourselves...that is special to me...
ReplyDeleteI did some of the same stuff but imagined I was--I don't know--a tap dancer. (Ha.) Enjoyed this! K.
ReplyDeleteEspecially the second. I was a singer, not a flier, but pretty much the same.
ReplyDeletethat's what i love about children...they can be anything at anytime..we lose some of this when we grow up...
ReplyDeleteI used to be that! Go on being the eternal child. It's what we were meant for.
ReplyDeleteFly to the heights and never crash...
ReplyDeleteGlad it struck a chord with you, folks. :)
ReplyDeleteA flying man has always been a favorite fantasy for youngsters. Me too! Beautiful verse!
ReplyDeleteHank
What a wonderful poem! You're my hero Rosemary! Nice to 'meet' you!
ReplyDeleteI immediately thought of my little girl. Love this.
ReplyDeleteA lovely and poignant take on the prompt, Rosemary-- thanks so much for stopping by my place. xxxxj
ReplyDeleteI love this one too!
ReplyDeleteThank you all for these wonderful comments!
ReplyDeleteThis is definitely my favorite!
ReplyDeleteI'm so glad, Laurie! :)
ReplyDeleteIt's a bird, it's a plane, it's Rosemary. I always enjoyed Superman a lot. He was my hero.
ReplyDeleteI always wanted to BE the heroes. (When I wasn't Superman I was Robin Hood or D'Artagnan.)
ReplyDelete