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George Krokos Oct 2023
The phoenix is a bird said to rise from its own ashes
being a symbol of immortality and spiritual rebirth.
So life in this world undergoes many similar flashes
which determine the degree and quality of our mirth.
_______
From 'The Quatrains' ongoing writings since the early 90's.
freesoulandpoet Oct 2022
Push me back to the walls I can't break

Push me through the forest I can't cross

Drive me down the road I cannot walk

And watch me rise like a dark phoenix

I'll break these walls and build a bridge

I'll use the trees to build my shelter

And I'll walk down that road to my excellence

Such a dark phoenix, I'll come back to life...
Life will definitely throw you around and most of the times down but it's up to you to learn how to fly with the wind or be carried away by the storm
Odd Odyssey Poet Oct 2021
A shadow calls-
vexed by whisper
In the night;
as I hear echoes of pity.

Through blackest eyes;
seeing nothing in-
Vast openness;
and at its center,

                     A bird.

Brokenness resting
on closed wings
Prisoned to ground;
stretching hand to her

                          But;

She takes nothing-
of my helping aid
The sky;
has betrayed her;
Once she had loved

Each day passed;
I came to feed it love
By the crumbs;
each piece was strength

                          Until;

A day her-
wing could stretch
Flying highest to
tomorrow, and beyond
The black bird;
once again, became her

                       Fired Phoenix.


And so;
a light of hope
Lost in world's dark;
once again found her

                               Spark.
Jay M Oct 2021
Like a phoenix
I burst into a burning blaze
Of flames of pain
But like a phoenix
I will rise from the ashes
Of the burned memories
I will rise again
And become what I do not know

- Jay M
October 11th, 2021
From the ashes of a burned love, I will one day rise. For now, I am still slowly smoldering, the embers dying in their agony to be born again, healed.
muteD Sep 2021
from a pegasus, i was a feather plucked.
drifting through the air, i wonder where my right hand went.
when i clench my fist, there’s nothing there
and as my eyes roam the room,
there’s not another soul in sight.
alone in the cold,
shelter had to forcibly be found.
fleeing through the flames, my stinger fell away
as a charred and scarred phoenix emerged.
aware to the deterioration of the world.
the anger and pain ran down the line,
until the line met me.

i’m different but i’m still growing.
from scorpion to phoenix, here’s to growth.
Robert Watson Sep 2021
The ember extinguishes,
Imposing darkness.
The pyre's carcinogen
ushers him to move on.

The fragrance teleports him:
Childhood bonfires,
Burning cities,
The end of civilization.

Burn it all down!
So much is lost.
From the fires of rebellion,
regression into tribes.

Among the ashes,
he finds a charred Bible
and quickly hides it.
Demoniacal wailing nearby.

He hurries to his bivouac,
hidden in a cliffside crevasse.
He devours the legible words,
diligently memorizing fragments.

A far off explosion reverberates;
pinned up book pages quake.
He mumbles “***** and Gomorrah
… to ashes … the ungodly.”

Feebly he undresses:
jacket with phoenix insignia,
tattered baseball cap,
and military boots.

His eyes, deeply sunken,
craving to espy hope.
His quivering emaciated frame
lowers unto a cot.

Laying his hoary head to pillow,
Phrases, memories, and regrets
accompany him to the celestial gates;
the ember extinguishes.
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