2014 November PAD Chapbook Challenge: Day 4

Thank you for continuing to rock this challenge! I approved many comments yesterday–so if you’ve been having issues with commenting, I hope they’re cleared up now.

Today is our first Tuesday of the challenge, and I like to do a Two-for-Tuesday prompt on Tuesdays. You can write to the first prompt, the second prompt, both prompts, or whatever tickles your fancy. Here are the prompts:

  1. Write a super hero poem.
  2. Write a super heroine poem.


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Here’s my attempt at a Super Hero and/or Super Heroine poem:


So it’s kind of weird that Thor
is suddenly a woman, not that it’s hard
to visualize a long-haired man
suddenly being a long-haired woman:

I mean, it happens, right? But
in Norse mythology Thor is a hammer
wielding guy who’s married to Sif,
a golden-haired goddess. Now Thor

is a hammer wielding goddess,
but maybe–like so many things–
I should’ve seen this coming,
because I lived through the ’80s

and watched Adventures in Babysitting
in which Sara runs around with her
little Thor helmet and hammer
and eventually teaches him

the value of cutting someone
a break. So it’s kind of weird
that Thor is a woman, but maybe
we should’ve known all along.


roberttwitterimageRobert Lee Brewer is Senior Content Editor of the Writer’s Digest Writing Community and author of the poetry collection, Solving the World’s Problems (Press 53). He edits Poet’s Market, Writer’s Market, and Guide to Self-Publishing, in addition to writing a free weekly WritersMarket.com newsletter and poetry column for Writer’s Digest magazine.

He has been to his share of comic conventions, comic shops, and still reads an issue here and there. He’s always been a bit more DC than Marvel, but they’re all good (even–maybe especially–the indies).

Follow him on Twitter @robertleebrewer.


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236 thoughts on “2014 November PAD Chapbook Challenge: Day 4

  1. Juanita Lewison-Snyder

    (sorry guys, just not “feeling it” this eves. instead, feeling a bit more anti-superhero this go around).

    by juanita lewison-snyder

    tonight i stopped believing in superheroes
    when i heard on the late evening news
    that a woman stopped her car on a local bridge
    then threw her six yr old over the side
    while onlookers stood by with their cell phones
    eager to be the first ones to upload
    video selfies on facebook and you-tube
    ’bout the time when a child died and no one cared.

    c’est la vie…

    © 2014 by Juanita Lewison-Snyder

  2. Mark Danowsky


    I realized today that I’m useless – Ip man

    Who leads? The person who cannot
    follow. It’s 90% circumstance.
    You look around. You see suffering.
    You shed your capacity for fear.
    You say to hell with it.
    You were once one
    convinced you were useless.
    You are now all of us—embodied.
    Pushed. Lead.
    Caution yourself.

  3. Khara House

    Oath of the dark winged

    We were Hero, once—shrouded in starlight
    against our skyline Olympus,
    our cape, our crusade,
    our city to conquer. The twilight warrior,

    a tapestry of mayhem woven by our toes—
    we struck the world into submission.

    And then mortality,
    the city found morality,
    they gave our soul its fetter.
    Broken wing against the dawn,

    bloated paunch eclipsing finger moon—
    only to haunt, wait in secret,
    until our beacon again they fly.

  4. bluerabbit47


    I never have understood
    what makes a superhero
    the special abilities
    that distinguish
    the odd and ambiguous,
    saving one or two
    of the numberless
    harmed among us.
    How does that make
    the unrescued ones,
    trembling in their beds,
    or under them,
    feel when the heat is off
    and the cereal boxes
    in the kitchen are empty?
    Who will don a lettered
    cape to alleviate such
    undramatic suffering?
    What about the damsels
    whose eyes are not
    large and languid,
    whose bodies are not lithe?
    Will they be caught,
    mid-fall, from glass towers,
    or will others merely step
    aside to avoid the bloody wreckage?
    I have never understood
    why everyone who arises
    in a morning to write
    the daily story of survival,
    meeting, as well as possible,
    encounters with the less familiar
    than most think, is not
    a super-heroine; a superhero.

  5. Gwyvian

    The archetype

    I dreamed once of what you would be,
    standing in shadows with the golden blood
    of gods shining through your eyes, and I knew
    the pulse of a confidence so magnetic that
    surely nothing could harm me here with you…
    yet, I see a shadow behind your eyes I want to explore,
    the weight of your heritage so contrary and always battling,
    and your actions have taken as much as they give…
    yet, that is the cause for which I have fought that
    you defend at such a price,
    and none know all that the world has exacted
    as a sacrifice from the part of you that desired silence;
    I dreamed that I understood somehow, and I knew
    myself alone at your side,
    a hindrance with my inability to do more,
    yet sharing in that hidden grief that molds your strength;
    but a part of me also knew you to be a mere fancy,
    a sliver inside of me that cares so much and
    can do so little; but I can share you with my imperfections,
    and hope that a balance will be struck—
    you are a dream, my hero of so many legends,
    a myth in the world whence I come,
    and a part of me hopes that you will weave betwixt
    the threads of rationality and keep the fear at bay,
    while I do what must be done.

    November 4, 2012

    By: Lucy K. Melocco

  6. Caren Salas

    A Date with Wonder Woman

    She’s a beautiful heroine, strong and true
    Dazzling in her outfit of red, white and blue
    But out on a date, she hasn’t a clue
    About what she should do, about what she should do.

    Because right from the start, she ties up the guy
    With her Lasso of Truth, in case he might lie
    And there’s no chance of romance by the look in her eye
    So he just says good-bye, he just says good-bye.

    She stares at the dinner still left on her plate
    And wonders if it’s just her, or maybe it’s fate
    That she’s loved throughout the United States
    But she can’t get a date, she can’t get a date.

  7. deringer1

    Super Heroine ?

    one day a woman came to my door.
    With a frown she announced
    “I am from the Feminist Police.
    If there are any heroines here
    they must come with me at once!”

    So she took my heroines away
    and while she was at it
    she arrested all the actresses,
    the stewardesses,
    and the waitresses.

    They’ve all been locked up now
    in a basement cell somewhere.
    I grieve because they were helpful.
    Now only the men remain,
    the actors, the stewards, and the waiters.

  8. taylor graham


    The police have taken her papers – car
    registration, drivers license, visa.
    They arch their backs to show the grips of guns.
    The sidewalk rolls, a sea, and all the crowd
    has joined to watch. It might be better if
    she stepped wordless into the wagon and
    looked out from behind bars. She reaches in
    her pocket for a pen, pad of paper
    linen white, unwritten. A police tries to grab
    the pen. She holds tight. Incontinent of
    words, she starts to write. He can’t begin to
    read it. Is this rage or fear that rips his
    face apart? No matter the outcome, the
    crowd knows she’s won. The uniform has lost.

  9. Karen H. Phillips

    Day Four
    Write a superhero poem.

    Superhero of the Nuptials

    Able to say “NO” with a smile
    Finds hidden money for the bride’s fondest wish
    Tears up at mention of father-daughter dance
    Knows how to fox trot and swing dance
    Tells the corny “hitch” joke at weddings
    Carries scissors to cut the budget
    Attracts the flower girl (his granddaughter)
    as if a human magnet
    Able to calm bride’s mother with a hug
    and the bride with a word or look
    Leaps obstacles with single bound of logic
    Outruns the wedding bills
    Holds up his hand to prevent bride and mother derailment
    Keeps everyone focused on the prize: The Wedding Day
    Look over on the couch
    It’s a bird
    It’s a plane
    It’s the father of the bride.

  10. Lori D. Laird

    No Shrinking Violet

    I’m a mother who’s raised
    two wonderful boys.
    Taught them to respect themselves.
    And to pick up their toys.
    Now they are men.
    They claim to be grown.
    Little do they know.
    My heart they still own.

    I’ve been married
    for seventeen years.
    My husband knows who I am.
    And loves me despite my fears.
    It hasn’t been perfect.
    But we’ve managed to make it work.
    It’s safe to say I haven’t
    driven him completely berserk.

    I’m a grandmother of two.
    One an angel; the other a rainbow.
    Knowing Zoie keeps Gracie safe
    gives me a peaceful glow.
    They are my world.
    And the joys of my heart.
    I miss them both equally
    because we have to be apart.

    So as you can see
    I don’t need a hero.
    I can take care of myself and others.
    Besides fairy tales are worth less than zero
    to a woman who’s filled with adrenaline
    at the thought of an idiot who wants to rescue
    someone who can be her own heroine.

  11. Sally Jadlow

    Super Hero

    There aren’t many super-heroes around anymore
    unless you’re into Superman or Spiderman.
    In the hard light of adulthood,
    those guys have shrunk and shriveled.

    The only heroes left are those
    who defend our country when called upon.
    Some come back to take up their lives again—
    others don’t.

    In my book, our defenders are the true heroes.

  12. BDP

    “Midnight Shift”

    This job’s brutal, with townsfolk here lifelong.
    We’re summer help, two greenhorns, haul veneer
    from dryer belt to tables, thin wood sheared
    on log lathes, four by eight sheets splinter prone.
    Our seasoned crewmates grade grains, slide them down,
    stack them. Each sliver is a mini-spear,
    use duck tape, thicken gloves. But we don’t care:
    we’re super teens, August end, college bound.

    And we’re youth-sharp, make up a language, hate
    this place, the foreman sucks, we ridicule
    with nonsense words to puzzle him. So far
    he’s nice, calls when I oversleep, hours late,
    week after week, he also wakes my pal.
    At last it dawns, we’re not tough nor that smart.

    –Barb Peters

  13. TeriBeth

    Super Hero

    Wing tips flopping back and forth,
    big shoes to fill, but his tiny feet try.

    Dreaming big dreams, planning big things,
    though still just a small fry.

    Clutching at the pants that threaten to
    swallow him whole.

    Little fingers struggle with pushing a button
    through the stubborn button hole.

    Felt hat slides down over big eyes so blue,
    Blue like his daddy’s, whose eyes he wishes to
    see the world through.

    Pretending to be just like his favorite guy,
    His greatest icon doesn’t even fly.

    Able to slay monsters in the dark of the night,
    Strong arms that comfort, words just right.

    A child’s heart so full of love and trust,
    turned a mere, mortal dad into a super hero,
    powerful and just.

  14. Yolee

    Able To Leap Tall Landings

    Mami cared for my 7 siblings and me, a nearly arranged marriage, our home, her church
    family, and in the last 7 or 8 years tended to Papi’s illness. She draws people in a big
    circle by calling them her own as if they too rested in her womb. She is the maternal
    cup I drink from- Mami has wisdom that baffles and a kindness that does not parallel
    feathers or soft falling rain. She has a strength I hope to inherit. She was not presented
    with the parental blanket that covers until one is ready to “see” the world. At the age
    of 6 or 7 she was abandoned by her father when her mother died. Quasi-orphaned,
    her father, unwilling to see her thru and the stages of life clipped her understanding
    that she was worthy of love and affirmation.

    Because of Papi’s gentle manner and humble disposition, he receives much praise and applause,
    which is remarkable considering his less-than-ideal childhood included unimaginable abuses.
    I imagine some of his old ghosts still stammer about with black-eyes and florets of bruises.
    His Island’s mountains were there for his solitary confinement when he ran away from home
    and into plantain or coconut shadows. Evening’s rumors settled around him along with its
    living room chatter. But he is a dancer and he taught us how to move gracefully even
    when the awkward bone of events resisted.

    Somewhere during their journey, superpower seeds took roots in their internal territory.

  15. Penny Henderson

    “I’ll go,” she said. She said, “send me.”
    and raised her trembling hand.
    She lifted her cane, Quixote-like
    and valiantly tried to stand.

    She got the charge and left the room.
    They shook their doubting heads,
    but the hesitant learned, to their dismay,
    the old girl could do what she said

  16. Shennon

    The little girl
    Stays home all day
    She’s never watched T.V.

    She helps her mama
    Cook and clean
    Although she’s only three.

    Her dad works hard
    to bring home food
    He’s kind and he
    doesn’t tell lies.

    Without having heard the word
    her daddy is clearly
    one in her eyes.


  17. Michelle Hed

    Hero Time

    I want to be a cat
    with whisker and tail.
    I’ll prowl up the steps
    with my Halloween pail.

    I want to be a ghost
    all scary and white.
    I’ll dance and I’ll float
    and I’ll give them a fright.

    I shall be a hero
    all shiny and new.
    I’ll leap tall buildings
    and I’ll defend you.

  18. Meriadoc

    I’m so out of it. All I ever read was “Heavy Metal” and “Fat Freddie’s Cat.”

    And my kids stole them.


    I think that Life’s Greatest Hero
    is the One who can give of himself
    Not counting the cost
    Nor yet thinking of loss
    Loving from that Inner Wealth

    I have known quite a few such
    Painting my Life with their Words
    Brightening my day
    With the things they would say
    Though to them it might not have been much.

    At the end of the day, I must Thank Them
    For sharing their Spark within me
    Of such is the Kingdom of Heaven
    Bright Lights Radiate the Great Sea.

  19. JohnLY

    Super Heroes
    by John Yeo

    Super heroes abound.
    They come in many forms
    To save the world from threat.

    Two young doctors far from home
    Drawn through concern and compassion
    To fight the spread of a new disease.

    They travel from a world of difference
    Excess and the drive to succeed.
    Bringing skills, caring and expertise.

    They don protective apparel
    Enclosed from the infectious fluids
    To administer care and comfort.

    The fight goes on against the horror
    The threat and the spread of Ebola
    Super heroes abound.

    Copyright © ~ Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved.

  20. seingraham


    Last time I saw you we both dressed up like our
    favourites, remember?
    You said I could choose any super hero I wanted
    — even a boy because it was magic so I could
    I pick whoever I liked…
    I asked you who you thought I should be and you
    gave it some pretty intense consideration before
    telling me, you’d like it if I was Black Canary

    Really? I didn’t even know who this was so you
    went and got you super hero book – it’s practically
    an encyclopedia
    You wouldn’t let me look it up in the index but
    carefully searched the book yourself
    You knew exactly who you were looking for
    and sure enough, there was a woman,
    a long-time counter-point to the Green Arrow – my
    word – she was born before I was…

    I wanted to know why you liked her, figuring you
    would tell me it was because she’s pretty
    (she is)
    But no, you explained that she could fight better
    than the ninja turtles and could make a noise
    that smashed windows, and made ears bleed too
    Well, I said, that’s who I’ll be then…what should
    I wear?
    You had even figured that out, you wily child…
    How about your black pyjamas, you said…
    I nearly always wear black sweatpants and
    a skinny black t-shirt
    Is that what the Black Canary would wear,
    I wondered – I was a bit skeptical but we didn’t
    have much in the way of costumes

    You nodded, then said – unless I brought my bathing
    suit and some netty stockings…
    oh, uh no, I didn’t guess so…
    I liked that you gave me a towel-cape too though “even though
    you won’t really be able to fly” – not like you
    Who, as usual, were going to be Ironman – what a surprise
    But I didn’t care that you always picked the same guy
    You do, after all, have that very cool costume and,
    as you never tire of telling me…he’s really such a good
    hero,you know – all he wants to do is help out people
    Not like Darth Vader, your last love, who you took pity on
    for almost two years
    After seeing the prequel to Star Wars and saw how he
    became the ruined person he was…
    So misunderstood, you couldn’t stand it…you wore
    that costume everywhere and explained in that terrible
    voice how he wasn’t really a bad guy, he just had had
    a bad time once and look what happened…
    It could have happened to anyone…there was no
    reason for everyone to be so mean.

  21. MichelleMcEwen

    Girl + Joystick

    of the arcade,

    you lived
    for the “beat ’em up”

    video games—

    like Batman
    on Atari.

    Boys crowded
    around to watch

    you play
    ’cause you played

    like you wore a cape.

  22. James Von Hendy

    Driving Miss Elizabeth Bishop to Lewis Wharf, 1978

    Greatness, unassuming
    In the woman for whom I held
    The door. She would not say
    She was tired, but in truth
    Her reading had been rough, aided
    By Father MacGillvray
    Who rose from his seat to read with her,
    His drunken baritone drowning
    Her voice. Still, the November streets
    Glistened with rain under
    The streetlamps, mist sparkled
    On the windshield, and she settled
    Into a comfortable silence
    As we traveled down Commonwealth Ave.
    She radiated the quiet and calm
    That suffused her poems,
    An invitation to wake
    To small magic. “They tried
    To teach me to drive in one of these,”
    She said, and touched the dashboard
    Of the VW bug gingerly
    As if it were paper covered
    In words that might smudge. “In Brazil
    In the mountains above Rio.”
    It was a small setting aside
    Of the veil, her secret identity
    Revealed, like so much in her poems,
    Almost offhand, and slightly
    Mischievous, though nothing
    In her face passing from light
    To dark beneath the streetlights
    Otherwise gave her away.
    At Lewis Wharf, she thanked me.
    “I’d invite you up,” she said,
    “But I have nothing to offer you.”
    Oh, but she had, again and again.

    1. BDP

      James: Great story. Much to think about (a sumptuous poetical ride in a VW bug) and I especially liked “It was a small setting aside / Of the veil, her secret identity / Revealed, like so much in her poems, / Almost offhand….” Barb

  23. Bhumphreys

    Every daybreak you
    Wipe the darkness
    From your eyes.

    With a cup of coffee
    You fight off the night’s
    Remaining shroud

    You charge through your day
    A greyhound chasing a bunny
    Despite your inner hollow

    The twinkle in your eye diminished
    You return home for dinner,
    Distraction and slumber

    What makes a hero?
    Is it the super natural?
    For me, it is those who can achieve
    The super normal….

  24. Tandac

    It was long ago that Spiderman
    Ordered his lizard skin boots, shiny
    Brass buckle, and ten gallon hat from
    A mail order catalog, went right up
    To Pecos Bill and challenged him to a
    Speaking in his best western drawl.
    When Pecos Bill saw him swaggering
    Along, he just laid down on the sidewalk
    And laughed himself to death. And that’s
    When Spiderman replaced Pecos Bill.

    (he hung up his big brass buckle, though)

  25. Jacqueline Hallenbeck










  26. bxpoetlover


    With all of the guns
    white collar thievery
    big business buying
    wars and rumors thereof
    we sure could use some
    with bulletproof chests
    invisible planes
    and supersonic speed
    to rescue those in harm’s way

    since too many are dying

    I think Alice Childress
    had it right

    A Hero Ain’t Nothin’
    But a Sandwich.

  27. LaraEckener

    Iron Man especially has ghosts in his machines. Just saying.

    . . .

    I exist because he resented
    not being omniscient.
    Because in the dark, alone,
    his mind isn’t big enough
    to hold all he knows.

    The first vanquished rogue in his gallery
    was gravity.
    He soared into the black
    laughing, daring it to come after him.
    Like any good arch nemesis, it does.
    I catch him when his thrusters fail.
    I haunt his synapses and sinews
    and his home.

    No matter how I manipulate physical space,
    I cannot inhabit it.
    I have the exhaustion,
    but none of the bruises.
    I have the hope,
    but none of the pain.
    If this world falls,
    he’ll fall with it.

    I’ll live on to feel the brunt
    of his failure, just as I now feel
    the sting of his success.
    He made me to fill up the spaces
    around him, to extend his virtue,
    beyond his thrashing body,
    to collect his soul.

    No matter how far we come
    he still resents the limitations
    of his best intentions.
    I whisper the enemy’s coordinates
    directly into his thinking mind,
    and leave out the part where I think
    I’m worth saving too.

    I exist because without a shield
    the light of could be is blinding.
    No matter how much sleep fate steals
    from us. He’s still only a genius
    and I’m still only an
    electric ghost.

  28. m_deane

    Crows fall
    black, across the field harrowed by
    blood and blade.

    Only the
    dog of war stands, dead but
    still defiant.

    Hushed, the
    victors tremble. Crows
    fall to feasting.

    ~Cú Chulainn

  29. Sara McNulty

    It Came To Me In A Dream

    Swirling scarlet tornado
    thrusts itself into my dream.
    Bells toll,
    sirens shriek,
    danger darkens
    the landscape.
    People shout
    my name, all waiting
    for me to take action,
    right the wrong,
    prevent catastrophe.
    My eyes fly open.
    I am awake, soaring
    in the air, coming
    to the rescue, except,
    this is not a dream.

  30. Pat Walsh

    Superheroes at the Station
    by Patrick J. Walsh

    sitting at the station
    waiting, just waiting — and watching

    poor guy, rushing by
    pulling at the jacket of his suit
    while hurrying to the train
    like Clark Kent
    heading to the phone booth

    her with her cup, rushing up
    stairs flying beneath her
    as she rises to cross the tracks
    like Diana Prince
    her lasso hidden in her valise

    every morning they do this
    every day, the same way
    rushing to the train, to the job
    to work
    for their kids and their dreams

    sitting at the station
    waiting, and watching — Heroes

  31. tunesmiff

    G. Smith (BMI)
    I wonder, woman,
    Am I your Superman?
    Or just some mild mannerd Clark,
    Who wants to hold your hand?

    I know this place is Smallville,
    Not some Metropolis,
    But it’s just big enough,
    For the two of us.

    And I’d leap tall buildings for you if I could;
    Out run a speeding bullet or stop a runaway train.
    But it’ll take much more,
    Than simple x-ray vision,
    To see what causes you such pain, such pain;
    To see what causes you such pain.

    If you need me to, you know
    I’ll hold you tight.
    You’re my weakness, Girl,
    My Kryptonite.

    And I’d leap tall buildings for you if I could;
    Out run a speeding bullet or stop a runaway train.
    But it’ll take much more,
    Than simple x-ray vision,
    To see what causes you such pain, such pain;
    To see what causes you such pain.

    Look- up in the sky- it’s a bird- it’s a plane –
    But I still can’t tell what’s causing you such pain.

  32. Heather

    FYI: I’m using these prompts as a way to delve deeper into my second draft of my story, which ironically features superheros. So here I give you the same scene from different perspectives.


    Caught in the wrong place
    wrong time
    knife held to my throat
    no easy way out.

    Panic enhances my senses,
    my body poised,
    on alert,
    knowing something has to happen.

    In a screaming crowd
    the slightest shuffle
    sends shivers.
    He notices my stance.

    Welcome Ghost he calls.
    Sneering, knife tightens.
    A noise behind sends us spinning,
    a rough dance of armor and flesh.

    He strikes something metallic
    a flash of light
    followed by a series
    of shimmering expanding outward.

    He pixelates into view
    a tall frame
    cloaked head to toe
    in a slim reflective suit.

    The Ghost stands ready
    to fight without fear.
    Sword in hand
    he is all predator.

    As he lunges towards us
    I drop, dead weight.
    Out of the line of attack
    catching both by surprise.

    Deafening pain delays escape
    but I roll away from the conflict.
    my skin sacrificed
    for safety.


    l watch from the shadows.
    He holds a knife
    against her delicate throat
    cold steel against soft flesh.

    For a moment I’m captive
    to memories long passed.
    She reminds me of my reasons
    for pursuing my own justice.

    Cloaked in sunlight
    reflection and refraction
    deflecting sightlines
    I hide my approach.

    I send noise away
    They spin around
    she’s an unwilling partner
    yet manages grace and poise.

    Recognition stills her features
    her eyes find me
    though seeing without seeing
    and he notices her posture.

    Welcome Ghost he taunts.
    knife drawing dark red blood
    counterpointing the bright white
    of an existing scar.

    He hits me with something
    from his armor-plated suit
    the electricsof mine
    sizzle in disgust.

    I appear first as a floating arm
    but I know from experience
    l am pixelating into view
    a shimmering mess.

    I prepare for battle
    taking my stance
    drawing my sword
    No longer a high-tech poltergeist.

    She is alert
    unlike the one I didn’t save.
    I take my chance
    and attack.

    She drops, a dead weight
    rolling away injured, alive.
    Relieved, the battle rages on
    as it always does.

    ~ also published at http://heatherbutton.com/2014/11/04/hero-and-heroine-poems/

  33. Danielle Wong

    My Superhero

    Creepy crawlies
    come in my house,
    big and small
    quiet like a mouse.

    I scream at their sight
    glued to the spot.
    They do the same,
    it’s not how I thought

    creepy crawlies
    behaved. Then I catch on.
    Move and breathe,
    watch where they’ve gone.

    I turn and I look
    and what do I see?
    My bug-killing superhero,
    my kitty, Crunchie!

    With head crouched down low
    and legs readying the pounce
    she jumps in front of the bugs
    and realizes she hasn’t an ounce

    of the courage required
    to rid the house of that kind.
    She turns and runs away.
    Another super hero I’ll have to find.

  34. Mike

    Ripped cape, torn tights
    Last time he tried to leap
    He tripped on that tall building.
    He can stii stop a bullet,
    But it stings something awful
    And it’s hell trying to find
    A decent phone booth
    When he needs to change.
    But this world still needs a hero,
    So it’s “up, up and away”
    One more time, or at least
    Slightly up and sort of sideways.
    And if he falls, he’ll do his best
    To land on the bad guy.

  35. DanielAri

    “My Superpower”

    There is no “if” about it.
    My open-attention power
    Unshackles the captive filmmaker,
    Centers the marginalized mentor,
    Releases mascara’d doves from the train.

    —Daniel Ari

  36. Janet Rice Carnahan


    Glancing up to heaven,
    You are still my heroes!
    Mom, you may have shown me,
    Who I wasn’t,
    While, Dad, taught me,
    Who I am.
    With each of you, together,
    How would I have known?
    Now all grown!
    I see you both reflected in my eyes,
    You were the models,
    Great promise and always the hope.
    I never saw you in red capes,
    But rather as escapes,
    When I wasn’t sure how far,
    I’d actually fly.
    Still, you both dared me,
    Scared me,
    Guiding me to be myself,
    Standing up,
    Never giving up,
    Filling my cup,
    With lofty dreams,
    Or practical life lessons!

    No James Bond among you,
    Yet, I loved the one between you!
    You both stood for me then,
    As I stand for you each now!
    Who says we can’t still fly . . .

  37. ReathaThomasOakley

    The crone is ……..an old woman. …..often with magical or supernatural associations. The Crone is also an archetypal figure, a Wise Woman.
    From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

    Becoming a Crone

    Where are the young girls
    to sit at my feet
    to serve as the old ones decreed,
    to bring gifts of meat
    and apples and wine
    to catch my words
    in baskets woven of reeds.

    I turn my blind eyes to the sky
    waiting for the young girls to find
    me, as the words and the women
    all promised, but the dancing black words
    and the women, they lied.
    But, words were all they left me.

    Now I sit here all alone,
    with my thoughts of a young man,
    with hair that ran like silk, like sand
    through my fingers and wonder,
    as I wait for the young girls,
    did I stare too long at the sun?

  38. vicki whicker


    Heroes were once as rare as a blue lobster
    clawing across the Bering Straights
    with his red brethren

    Now heroes come in all sizes and shapes

    And all of us are told
    from kindergarten on
    that each of us is a hero deep down inside
    if only we’d take the time to excavate

    This life is lousy with heroes
    you can’t pull a good getaway
    without one
    wrapped around your ankle
    preventing your escape

    Heroes heroes heroes
    littering the landscape
    like a Marvel convention gone south

    Still, when you tell me we’re wrong
    and your taking your kryptonite and moving on

    it is hard not to answer the call
    (red cape
    red mask
    red boots)
    and stand overly overly tall
    with that glint in thine eye
    that says


    hand over my Super blue heart

  39. Natasa Bozic Grojic

    Tawny Owl

    I can see in the dark
    and hear a rustle in the grass.
    You will never hear me fly
    until it is too late.
    My talons and my beak
    are lethal weapons.
    There might be birds with a song
    sweeter than mine,
    but only I can help him
    find his way home
    and the babies sleep
    to my lullaby.


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