to my dearest father,
scraps of your drawings
haunt me tonight
the garb of a heroine
from a world of the future
Am I her?
I think I found my calling
on this Earth
I’m ready
let the drums beat
to the sound of my fierce steps
strutting through the tedious streets
with eyes of envy left in the dust
the unfortunate are leading the fortunate
the minority is now the superiority
let them pierce my body
until no flesh can be seen
for I will bleed for you
always
-my father came home from work one day and showed me a drawing he sketched of star war’s princess padma’s wardrobe. this stuck with me. the poem is deeper than it appears…basically be true to your identity…
Amber is the Color of Her Energy 
Semaphore
March 9, 2012 at 6:02 am
The image of the father with a drawing of a n SF princess – so unexpected, and yet so thought-provoking.
chanzibrenner
March 9, 2012 at 6:09 am
yea sounds pretty amusing
life in a poem
March 9, 2012 at 6:15 am
it’s great. keep posting you have great talent
brian miller
March 9, 2012 at 12:31 pm
def an evocative verse and i like….but did you mean to post this one to the triolet exercise over at dverse?