Submit Your Poems
Get Your Premium Membership


Introspection Imagination Poems | Introspection Poems About Imagination

These Introspection Imagination poems are examples of Introspection poems about Imagination. These are the best examples of Introspection Imagination poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

If you don't find the poem you want here, try our incredible, super duper, all-knowing, advanced poem search engine.

Details | Epigram | |

FEELINGS

FEELINGS


Feelings,
Masters of my destiny
Lords of my life
Strength of my dreams
Instigators of my actions

Burning fire you are 
Consuming my whole 
Being:
My heart
My mind 
My soul
My spirit,  
As you relentlessly
Demand: 
To be conceived
To be formulated 
To be understood
To be expressed!

A Herculean task it is,
I swear, 
Such an enterprise,
For how one could ever
Constrain, you, the unconstrained 
And mold you into:
Phonemes
Syllables
Words
Phrases
Sentences 
And still retain 
Your explosive 
Dynamism?
 
No language exists,
So vast
So deep
So accurate
So supple 
As to pay justice,
To your intensity
To your desire
To your beauty
To your love!

Thus, having no
Alternative, 
I turn to the only language
There is,
The one that the 
Cosmos speaks,
And
The universe alone
Comprehends:
The language of 
Harmony,
That we humans 
POETRY name
BUT 
Even then 
To describe you
I AM UNABLE!



©Demetrios Trifiatis
   28 January 2013

 


Details | Free verse | |

A Collapsing Yippie

It seems like everybody around me has forgotten,
they're stuck on a thought again,
saying alot and whining more.
Preying on their own self-doubts,
they have so much,
yet see so little.
so stubborn.
Can't they see that 64 inch TV,
or feel the beating of the jets in their hot tub ?
They measure their lives too much,
they have fallen into the "Great American Dream Sham"
as my friend "Chad Williams Lowther" would say !
Its a ruse,
an antidote,
so they can make changes in their lives which they normally wouldn't do,
because they lack the strength and insight,
so they get stuck in their minds.
Wheels spin,
tears fall,
marriages crumble
and the damn kids are really suffering,
cause they don't have the latest video gizmo box.
Thoughtless over-reactions of self- abuse,
much like an addict who is never satisfied.
"The Great American Dream Sham" sucked them in,
they forgot,
macroni and cheese,
kool-aid,
saturday morning cartoons and matinees.
All replaced by todays goals and desires,
which are masquerading as tired souls trying to find solice,
stuck in "the Great American Dream Sham"
and now saying all there is to say,
Hail, Hail to me 
and all who are free,
all who go their own way
and all who see though it !




Details | Prose | |

Muse With Pen and Sword

My soul rides the pen. Flowing through the nib, my thoughts are revealed; flowing onto the page in dark, liquid waves. As a vessel, I pour; all within me, spews forth. Naked rivers of ink Reveal muse’s secrets. Muse wields her sword, sliced opinions, fall away upon journal pages. Pen-to-paper, scratching letters and words that betray us both. She talks too much and insists that, there are others who dream and believe, as we do. Why do I feel like I must keep silent and Let her do all of the talking? With Pen, she speaks; with sword, she conquers. I am her vessel and I must let her pour.


Details | Free verse | |

LOVE at FIRST SIGHT

Love was in the air when he laid eyes on her.
Childhood; elementary and even high school with her.
Walking towards her, he greeted her.
Anxiety spiraled as he hugged her.
Conversation grew deeper as he sat with her.
Wanting to get closer because he was falling for her.

Another woman called pausing the time he was having with her.
Knowing he had to answer; he stepped away and spoke to her.
She stated that something wasn't quite right with her.
She said that her stomach had been bothering her.
Now he's thinking back if he came inside her.
Thinking if she lied to him about her tubes being tied within her.

Does he blame himself for listening to her?
Knowing right from wrong and yet he can't blame her.
Does he blame the devil for allowing him to be intimate with her?
Is he not a human that makes mistakes just like her?
Begging God to make a way for him and her.
Asking God to forgive him for committing the sin with her.

God said, "relax my son, you were only dreaming of her."


Details | Free verse | |

Beauty in my Palm

You are the wild flower in my palm
With no stem to keep you anchored to this covetous earth
You are the fragile thing I dare not cup,
As your petals whittle away under the wind
And flit unfettered in the air;
Exaggerated fear leaves my fingers numb
Hungry need leaves my fingers twitching
And my hand is paralyzed by turmoil
As every breath of wind takes another petal from me
And brings to my lungs, my chest and my heart
An overwhelming scent of need-

You are the wild beauty in my palm
And I dare not hold you to my chest
For I fear to crush you
To know first hand
That caged beauty, is beauty no more.


Details | Imagism | |

IMAGINATION

IMAGINATION

Closed eyes; under a locked prism of unavailable light 
subjects our third eye to mind's internal creation; 
imagined images viewed by non-existent senses
on an opague three dimensional screen.

In an algorithm of shedded particle waves
Insight quickly fades back into a darkened vision 
of only half a picture without reflection. 

It leaves with us a broken trail of possibilities 
new thoughts, new choices, changes in destiny 
warily made under duress of immediacy 
trying to conceive a canvas framed 
by the hand of God.

It is in response to these panchromatic memories
held back by the sun's blackened light, 
that we clearly notice how the prism 
reflects an undercurrent. of shadeless secrets 
different than the realm of visionary colors.

Sensory detections relinquish an uncompleted picture. 
The image within, at times, may reveal an idea.
the transmission of which however placed
when received should strive to become an emotional 
mover of otherwise placid thinking where wizened leaders 
can in causes wept in sorrow from yesterday's sadness 
proclaim a hope for a brighter tomorrow.

INTERPRETATION:

When our eyes are shut tight, there is no light or vision.
We are limited to what we see with our inner mind. 
Nevertheless there is an internal sense,
a feeling of a creative process going on. 
It occurs as insight and often fades into a clouded vision 
of a thought picture barely perceived within.

When we leave the path of contemplative thinking,
we lose the benefit of what could have been. 
The choices we make are usually expedient 
and we struggle to determine 
what it is that we really want. 
Often we are faced and challenged by outside forces 
many of which we deflect as we espouse our point of view
without exploring all the possibilities. 

We see what could be and would like to be 
hoping that it will make a difference.
and help humanity move forward 
to a brighter tomorrow.

CAK  5-23-2103


Details | I do not know? | |

Raindrops

Raindrops
are like my thoughts
falling down into my mind
sending goose bumps down
my spine

Their cool aftermath
cleanses me of my thoughts
of fear and uncertainty 
about what tomorrows
pain may bring

They make me feel,
wet with creativity
drenched in my optimistic
illumination. glistening
raindrops, my thoughts
leave paths of pleasurable
distress, and hope of success
which road, less traveled
may be the best

Forget an umbrella
when these raindrops
arrive, I walk outside
arms open wide

Ready to Receive
whatever
the mind storm may bring
because raindrops are
as my thoughts, falling
down into my mind
sending shivers down
my spine

My brain, yearns
for the rain, to wash away
the pain, tomorrows worry
does bring
One special drop
could speed up life's clock
to the time
I can handle my own
and not dwell inside my controllers
home

For raindrops are,
like my thoughts
falling down into my mind
sending goose bumps
down my spine


Details | Bio | |

Self

I am a lady
In a white dress
My desire only to be softly caressed
So I take my paint brush, and delinquently paint
My face that pleads let love become quaint
I confess  to my brushes
Let a man stroke me 
With eloquence and grace
As he gazes into the love on my face
La fenêtre you see that I paint so clear
You have to climb in through it
To hold me so dear
Can you not see into my soft sad lonely eyes?
I desire myself
Wrapped inside of you
On canvas
I shall paint forever
Myself
That never existed


Details | Shape | |

Poets

I am able to move one’s spirit to the pinnacle of joy or drive it to depths of despair.
Not a chore to evoke passionate emotion--convey love, hate, life, and death.
Within those four small words lies our meek human existence all told.
To omnipresent Alpha and Omega, of what core lies between?
Now I sit with pen in hand to ponder many words of wit.
Gift to paint, not I, yet may cast an image to mind.
Bright lavender fields coax the amorous duo
to mingle with its deep, heady scent.
Amidst wet sewage soaked dirt
a filthy small child lays
weeping for mother
a bloody heap
close by.
See?
My!
The glee
holding words
Make them express.
Giving wide literate detail.
Understand to hold a soft heart.
Else never will you touch one’s soul.
So this is merely the lone reason I compose.
Excitement and warm sympathy and fiery passion,
within many a sorrow and tears and friendly persuasion,
in absolute care I do write and lay my psyche upon each page,
then wonder at length the primary purpose of such artistic endeavors.
Who among the world’s populace might gain an insight from what I scribe?
Does this really matter at all; since rarely, if ever, is it what one says… but how.


Details | Free verse | |

Probing the Unconscious Space

If the unbearable lightness of being has pushed you to the brink of catastrophic meltdown,
walk to the edge of our flat two-dimensional existence 
and take a leap of faith...

You may drift through space for quite some time
eyeing the stars, the planets, the galaxies
that make up the great and boring universe beyond.

Eventually you'll come across darker, scarier territory,
unseen with the naked eye
yet comprising 95% of all matter,
and all that matters,
otherwise known as the unconscious.

Some day you'll feel safer in the void, 
more secure,
at peace.

With not one mirror in sight to reflect your self concept,
everything and nothing make perfect sense here,
for they are one and the same.

You are the only observer
of man's true final frontier
and his one and only mystery.


Details | Rhyme | |

And The Piper Played On

 And The Piper Played On

The mystic piper paid his earthly dues
 strange tunes he did so often choose
 Notes that ring so loud and so clear
 wiping away doubt and darkened fear

 Yet each found this a false delight
 shadows that lurched in evil night
 Music set to lowly goals and greed
 easing pains from a desperate need

 Dancing in a deepened hollow ring
 woes trailed all that shout and sing
 Piper plays on in his standard way
 as his victims spin and gaze far away

 Stars spin away so very far, far above
 this world needs more, always more love

Robert J. Lindley

note: Inspired by the words of a fellow poet here. Such inspiration is in great abundance here as this site offers the writings of so very many talented artists!
I am humbled to read such poetry and any subject can find inspiration from the tremendous number of offerings presented here each day! From seasoned poet to newbie the talent here is simply amazing..


Details | Rhyme | |

Disappearing Ship With Shadow At The Prow

Disappearing Ship With Shadow At The Prow


I sit with setting sun in evening twilight
gold and orange rays vanishing now
On comes the mysteries of this lonely night
disappearing ship with shadow at the prow

The night breeze so cool and silently calm
churning waters flow by with ease
Hardened heart like callouses on my palm
this dark time suddenly sets to please

Sailing on into each new imaginitive realm
constant pain tags doggedly along
Captain of my fate stirs slowly at the helm
past spirits sing their soulful song

I sleep deeper into this long flowing dream
ages fly by in streaks of enlightening rays
Serenity and solitude blessings of this stream
ship protected as its kneeling captain prays

Robert J. Lindley, 12/28/2014

Note-  Reflections of a life now gone and 
future time that must be wisely used. 
No time for wasting efforts or foolish wants.
The mountains I sought to demolish stand as 
sentinels to the futile vanity of a man and his 
ego...
Amazing how things work. I've been in a dump for weeks
 now and suddenly one comment gave me cause to reflect and write this poem.
Thank you Arthur Vaso.... 


Details | Rhyme | |

Smoke Rings in the Dark

We sit alone in the shadows outside,
Blowing smoke rings in the dark;
Watching them rise and then divide,
The cherry just a glowing spark;

This is what living is all about,
I’m more happy now than I care to admit;
Talking, laughing, and hanging out,
Just sitting here with our cigarettes lit; 

Blowing smoke rings towards the sky,
Your simple words tugging at my heart;
I lean on your shoulder with a satisfied sigh;
And watch as they slowly drift apart;

Doing all the things we shouldn’t do;
I liked being here alone with you,

Blowing Smoke rings in the dark...


Details | Free verse | |

Stream

Wheels spinning 'round
part the oil-slicked sea,
splashing damage onto new clothes.
Maniacal skeleton behind the wheel,
drives along, already dead,
killed by a futuristic ballistic check.
Sonic boom of the shot
pulls everything free,
stripping down nature to its barest form-
watching the sunrise behind his eyes,
stars fill up the lonely, hollow halls,
decked in fanciful persian rugs,
soiled by muddy shoes of movers
moving backwards,
emptying out the boxes
before hauling them away.
Messy piles of imprints left behind,
press 'stop,' hit 'rewind' and reverse *click* *click*
esrever dna 'dniwer' tih ',pots' sserp
....>>Play>>....
Wheels still spinning 'round
kick up chocking dust from
the unbeaten path of rugged minds,
blowing damage onto new clothes.
Babe of illusions behind the wheel
trying so hard to grow up really fast,
yet towering above the rest
in the form of a 2000 year-old redwood,
cut down and planked-
formed into boats
following the last and final whale song.
Empty skies are full of memories,
mind whirling faster than the shutterframe
trying to outdo a digital messiah.
Darkroom development,
MPD alchemist mixes chemicals,
transmuting greed into a beaded ring-
in an attempt to marry himself
and defy the laws of union
station is packed with people 
pushing and shoving
each other onto the tracks,
staring into the headlights of destiny
roaring in from the underside-
conductor isn't stamping tickets,
but gives them away instead....
....hoping and waiting for someone
to press 'stop,' hit 'rewind' and reverse.
Time to let go and hold on at the same time,
head up high
press >>play.


Details | Rhyme | |

The Mad Hatters

Madness, the Hatter blinks. 
Madness, Oz's link. 
Repercussions of concussions.
Madness was Portnoy's complaint**, 

Madness must reciprocate!

Hallucinations filter by....
Leary* winks at Dali's eye.
A house lands on Dorothy's thighs...
Chicken Little wanders by.
 
"Madness," Hitler's honcho’s sneer. 
Madness splices genes with fear. 
"Lobotomize!" becomes the cheer. 
Kellogg’s* enema's find waiting rears.

"Are you the ass? Or is it me? 
Have I ears and a nose? What do you see?"
"Hehawww," said Pinocchio's friends.
"Heeehaw," said Darwin* back again.

Round and round went Steven Hawkings*.
"Madness," said Lenore's raven* squawking.
"Madness," said Einstein* in a blink. 
"Reciprocate!," said the missing link.

Reference Poem Knock Knock by The Archaic Poet - topic madness

* Art by Salvador Dali
* Portnoy's Complaint by Phillip Roth states
   if you know you are crazy than you must be sane.
* Timothy Leary explored LSD and other hallucinogenic drugs.
* Kellog [of cereal fame] proposed enema's as the cure to 
   all health ills, plus loads of sex!
* Darwin proposed man evolved from apes.
* Edgar Allen Poe was mad when he wrote The Raven.
* Einstein had aspergers syndrome a type of 
* Steven Hawkings is a wheelchair bound scientist who autism. 
   extrapolates on the edge of mathematical reality.


Details | Free verse | |

Wondrous Kite

She walks away.

Girlish and glorious
laughter
floats
through air
like a kite on a string
that pulls
tautly slipping through tightened fingers,
burning a little,
and slicing through 
if ever left unattended,

so preciously tensioned
against the cold
benumbing
wind. 

Tears begin to flow
but I do not know . . .
my heart?
or the wind?
If my heart, then am I sad
to be here on the ground
or joyful
to be watching the kite
fly? 

In answer, a quivering.

A wisp.

"She will not fall or float away while I hold her thus. 
She will be beautiful for me."

Wondrous.


Details | Free verse | |

The Day That Died Forever

When I am Colder,Older and then alone...
I will collect the sky on my own...
When the art has faded and the days then fade-
when everyone has gone away...

I may finally see what never was saw
.....ahhhhhhhhhhhhh............... the quiet sky

The unlit room which bares my end...shows the flashes of my pains my joys and sins.
This life has been a strange one since the curtains were drawn
These paper and plastic figures have clouded the dawn

I was once younger,foolish,and obsessed with truth
Now I am bitter,sour,dour faced with my heart under shoe

The children were all searching or lost in a crowd
All weeds in a garden...growing vile and foul

Though beauty was sold it never came true
Obsessions and vanity have traveled safe through

Materials and poison and everything lost
have been burned in the fires or lost in the frost

I stand face to mirror tearing my being apart
Winding thoughts of love,pain,god,and art

As the sun sets and the darkness grows
I too shall follow this pattern in tow

Death has a friendly hand and a pretty face
She has given me comfort as I leave this place

The wars have occurred,humanity's lost
Souls have been burnt in the fire or lost in the frost

Day was Life,Night is Death

And the latter has given counsel on my final steps


Details | Burlesque | |

a reading

“the eyes of my eyes opened” as
the door when she came in, late
and embarrassed, click of a
shutter into “the ear of my ear” a
whispered ‘hi’ for a greeting
at the meeting, a reading.
she might be beautiful, had I
my glasses, seeing nothing
of a face or a flower, boughing to
sunlight, bowing to heaven
I see inward had I my glasses
I’d hear a thought that over
me wrought a heaven-bent word or
something more absurd.
“Abso-lute-ly & pos-i-tive-ly”
dead in the large-room
prison-with-a-view, had I
my glasses, everything’s new
in its monotony, “under me you so quite new”
I knew the world kicks up its dirt in my
I would have seen the lies, the dirt, the
heaven-bent word, her (quite new), had I
my glasses.


Details | Free verse | |

New Eyes

      Before the rain came,
I did not understand the words.
They were simply beauty to me
     in a foreign language
     in a tempo perfect
that fit my mood.
     Rich and pretty ... and 
         a bit oblique.
     But the seed fell deeply 
when I looked away.
Sweet siren music I heard in ocean
        covered streams ... and
        salt water flowers.
I knew angels in waking sleep
        and watched my mind
        tell me lies.
I turned up the silence and grew still.
     Clarity sparkled in smog and mud puddles
and then I understood.  the words.
        and the rain.  
            stinging cold ... and
                 purifying.
x


Details | Free verse | |

Minds lost are Minds Found

I’m losing my mind in a hurry!
Maybe, maybe, losing the mind is letting it find itself
or maybe, i'm just crazy

I keep running  with anticipation, with heart open and judgment closed
[I discover most superbly this way]
 Foolishly Dropping it, hoping that it’ll pick up something useful
On sidewalks, books, table-top salty discussions,
Sometimes in filth letting it pervade the crevices
And when I tidy it, sometimes
It doesn’t all come out, but I try my best
Ever so often, after a new dish soap and scrubbing gloves
 it comes out cleaner then it ever was, 
With spicy remains of the crude yet true substances

Chunks fall out where the glue of stability erodes 
                  I know that I am fond of it this way
So I can put them back together
                   With my own fingers


                                                     Organized C   H   A   O   S


Instead of the media’s, my peers, my parents, piloting
The pivotal pieces 
I let them descend tenderly into location
In my own decimal code
I constitute the regulations here
This belongs to me, my only
Safe place

It doesn’t matter to me if life doesn’t flow
If it’s jagged or slow, here
I don’t care
If insanity is the real sanity
Or that distinctive is incorrect
This is my society and I shape it as I please
Seeing as it only affects me
As long as my mind is 
In flurries of expansion
I don’t really care if it’s lost at all


Details | I do not know? | |

Memories

Like fossils deeply implanted
Molded forever in time
Seared with years of living
Piercing creeping thoughts
Tripping over feelings
No perfect gait outlined
Like silhouette on the mind.


Details | Free verse | |

don't touch me

deal with it

i will not let my emotions
be monitored

this is me

if you do not like the 
fire 
stay away

i am me

so why not enjoy

if it were left up to me
society would be ignored

i would fly to you in my
widows' weeds with hand-
fulls of forget me nots

i would wear a purple veil
to obscure the depth of 
my sorrow

or not

i would hook you 
in the eyes and say

hi.  why me flatly

with nuance
i would move myself 
into your space
and waste us both
without dignity

i would use your arms
around me to grieve

if , only if, it were
left up to me


Details | Senryu | |

Thought Tumbler

Shiny in confines
ricocheted thoughts tumble on
and emerge as gems.


Details | Free verse | |

Destiny

    Gripped by
a tiger through
most of our lives
As we try to see past the known
     and delve into
the core
     Laughter, tears
and one thousand unanswered questions
         pass by as
our fate unravels
      Let's not miss
the dance by looking 
at the dancers too
    closely
      Eyes that see
the sun and moon
      Will close all
too soon
       If you wish 
to gain perspective
   Try dreaming


Details | Senryu | |

Misjudged

Standing still head's up
Retrospect greatest pitfalls 
Mass consciousness whim 

Wandering till dawn
Waiting brave for the result
Less breathe heartless beat

Until the mind soar
Now is inexplicable
Sufferings indeed

People grim anew
For the best of all Juries
Render canny nod

Continued service
Captivated voter's wit
Last laugh never ends.






Details | Free verse | |

An Early, Experimental Poem of Alternate Lines

The mirror reflects, obliquely,
a peculiar yellow butterfly -- it flutters, flutters
the specks of black my beard is made of
on the breeze.  A daffodil hangs down its treasure
and I spread shaving cream, in great white puffs,
shielding from the wind and rain its yellow
across my face.  The nose protrudes, ridiculous
excrescence.  A leaf half green sweeps up in circles
in the whiteness all around.  A weak chin, think I,
of windy sighs.  Squirrels crack acorns, crunching,
down into a patchy neck.  Very unsatisfactory
remembering winter's almost famine.  The trees --
appearance.  Altogether so.  Oh well.
Quiet.  Steady.  Sturdy.  Oh well.
The mirror reflects, but not uniquely.


Details | Carpe Diem | |

SMAAK STUKKEND


Daylight dwindled and the sky was ablaze 
with colours so warm that memory blistered,
I sipped hanepoot, recalling meeker days,
nearby, a couple grazed on koeksisters.

She, though choty goty, was wholly dof, 
treating her date like he was her boet,
when his eyes said  I can’t get enough,
he, as smaak stukkend as a mal poet.

Ag! How I regret the chances not taken,
a lover left waiting, sweetness not pressed.
Damn those who sleep! We must awaken
each slap gat heart that aches for a caress.  

I turned to her and sighed, “He’s a lekker!”
Then I mouthed to him, “Moegoe! Just kiss ‘er!”







South African words I've used

hanepoot -- a type of wine
graze-- to eat
Koeksisters -- a type of fried pastry
choty goty -- pretty girl
dof-- stupid
boet -- male friend
smaak stukkend -- to love madly
mal -- crazy
press -- ahem, to have sex
slap gat -- lazy arse
Ag!-- Oh!
lekker -- great, good, wonderful
moegoe -- stupid/coward


Details | Free verse | |

My Dreams

I want to dream
Like flying across the sky
Finding out greater heights
Seeing others view of reality
And be one with the sky.

I want to dream 
Swimming underneath the ocean
Searching water creatures
Fishes, clamps, and corals
Discern what their importance’s are
In our existence and health.

I want to dream
Walking underneath the ground
Exploring things that make us
Wealthy and abundant
Seeing the sources of gold, diamond
And any mineral alike.

I want to dream all my life
To enjoy everything
With my dream Self
As I always know
It’s another form of my reality.


Details | Free verse | |

Me, Myself and I

I thought of things each day
As if they were stream of events
Through my mind away
More scenes I kept
Within my soul blemished
Haunted and reminiscent
Each action that pricked
My inner being in the wilderness
Of its fruition bestowed
For those who deserved
To savor the sumptuous breed
Of nature who spoke
Within the collective cells
That circumscribed
The essence of my existence
I created everything
That pleased and hurt me at once
But it was just fragment
Of essential things
Needed to propel my desires
To become who I am
And be one with everything.


Details | Free verse | |

Legendary Lady Leaders I salute you

I am like
Cleopatra
embraced by serpents many
fear
always trying something new
and dramatic with my
hair
I am like
Eva Patrón
growing up with a painful family
getting lost in movies
thinking of my own
hypnotizing when I speak
First lady of Argentina
meeting you, after death
would be a treat
a nervous habit, of nibbling
on my jewelry
the similarities, between us
gave me a sense of foolery
I am like
Wilma Mankiller
Chief of the Cherokee Tribe
for ten years
fighting against Native stereotypes
despite such distress
enemies did stress
promoting to ‘be of good mind’
you were a leader, of your time
an advocator for women
that they may grow up
and become chief
as a child, you wondered
the forests, like me
not the streets
I am like
Aung San Suu Kyi
wearing three types of 
flowers in your hair
feeling at times like a 
‘splinter of glass, sharp, glinting
power to defend itself against hands
that try to crush’
winner of a Nobel Peace Prize, 
for courage, was
a must
I am like
Catherine The Great
a love to laugh,
coffee, and feeling compelled
to always fill abandoned blank
sheets of paper
you were a Royal Russian Empress,with
not one red drop of Russian blood
and her people, were blessed
to have her
I am like
the Queen of England
longest royal lifetime in history
strong built, from a miserable childhood
toughened her
this is no mystery
preferring candle light
to electricity
handwriting over typewriter
and poetry
I am like
Indira Gandhi
dreaming to live as she did
riding elephants and having
tiger cubs as companions
your own Sikh security
killed you, the story
a sad one
secret dreams of being a writer
angered, by the imbalance of
power
between men and women
listening to beat poets
like Ginsberg
as a great Prime Minister of India 
you were heard
and understood
I am like
Rigoberta Menchú
drew the worlds attention to 
native Indians rights,
because of you
your goal, to be
a drop of water on a rock
dripping in the same spot,
eventually in the world, you
may leave a mark
wearing many colors
‘because it gives you life’
insisting men and women be equals
you fought this fight
to relax, as I do
writing poetry into
 the night
I am like
Joan of Arc
French Military Heroine
burned at the stake at just
age nineteen
known for keeping your cool
even on the battlefield
being a courageous and inspirational
rare jewel
Legendary Lady Leaders
I salute you