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Joel M Frye Mar 2019
There was no quiet desperation
in the riotous years of youth,
the grasping search for love and truth.
No, in those days there was no patience
for the faintest scent of dull
routine or rut.  It's just with age
that comfort's found in gilded cage,
no fires to set, and belly full.

Should a technicolor sunrise
strike a quickened spark of phoenix
from the ash of youthful pyres,
hopeful drops for jaded eyes
which, once refreshed, will then be fixed
upon millennial birds of fire.
Grist for the mill, Wisdom.
Aalhad Raut Feb 2019
377
I am trapped;
Shut in a dark room where I have forgotten the brightness of light.
I live in this darkness in eternal fear.
I am afraid of predation; a fat snake coils around me.
It stiffens my body, and I can barely breath in comfort.

As its leathery skin chills my bare back,
The snake whispers in my ear
Its serpentine truths with forked tongues and forked beliefs.
The snake whispers to me my inevitable demise.
The snake nibbles at my ear, drawing blood and injecting venom.

In the darkness,
Where two's a crowd, and yet I'm alone,
I question my own existence.
Why was I born to see
The black of this rustic veil.
The snake tells me the fictitious truth
Of the sinful anomaly of my existence.

I cry,
But tear up only the toxicity
Of this serpentine society.
I smile,
And I promise that this smile is true
For just the image of freedom
Is a euphoric drug to fix the pain.

But today is a momentous day.
A door has opened in the shapeless darkness
That reared me into my beautiful self.
The blind snake cringes aback,
Dragging me further from the bright shine.
But its reach isn't far enough to shut that door.

I may die of asphyxia,
But I won't die blind.
I may die in the darkness,
But I won't die alone.
For the door let in not only light,
But a ray of dazzling hope.

The snake may **** me,
Heck, it can eat me up.
Because I have seen light and I have seen fire.
This bird has tasted freedom,
And I'll burst into flames.

I am a phoenix of seven colours.
This poem was written when Article 377 was abolished in India, legalising consensual homosexual *** in the country.
Leia Spencer Feb 2019
Head up
My little Phoenix
You’ve just begun!
You can’t burn out quite yet
-you’ll come back stronger than before, I promise
It’s not the end quite yet.
c Feb 2019
Anyone’s a phoenix
Until they lose
Their fire
In the ashes
Of who they were
Matthew Jan 2019
A fire
burning
the old me.

Memories
of times
no longer
my own.

The crackling
is melting my soul
soul.
Ashes, are all that is left of me
And from them
The New Me emerges.
A poems of fire
Ameed Jan 2019
Hold your shattered pieces together,
Don’t let them go.
Don’t leave your mistakes behind; never forget them for they were there for a reason.
You must rise after every fall, just like a phoenix.
Dust yourself from the sadness and misery you put yourself in,
The fiery flames in your eyes should never dim despite the endless salty floods that strike them.
The confident smile you form should never relax or vanish.
You are strong; you will persist.
You are noticed; you shall resist.
Leave the ashes of the past behind; learn the lesson and just move on …
© 2019 Ameed Shehayeb All Rights Reserved
Winter Sparrow Jan 2019
There is a forest,
Somewhere around; Nowhere.
And in this forest on a barren patch.
Is a cottage.

On one side of the cottage there is a field,
That burns through night and day.
On the other side is a river,
Where it rains from dusk till dawn.

In this small cottage,
Lives a poet and his two pets.
One a Raven; as black as night.
One a Phoenix; burning brighter then light.

They fight and tease each other.
But although the Phoenix is stronger
The Raven always gets the better of him.
So the Phoenix rages on.

Every night, the house catches on fire,
And the field of fire consumes the house.
Causing the fire to grow stronger.
And spread through the forest even more.

But at 4 am in the morning,
The raven flies up to the moon,
And commands the winds and waters,
To put the fire out of the cottage.

Every morning,
The poet re builds the right side of the house.
Making sure the next fire,
Wont be as damaging.

But one day,
The phoenix turned from a fiery red,
To a midnight blue,
And burned not only the house, but the whole forest.

The river went dry,
The forest turned to ask,
The poet could not re build.
And the Raven had no water or wind to call.

The poet had to go else where.
But could only take one pet.
And although the phoenix burned brighter,
The darkness of the raven seemed safer.

The phoenix was enraged,
He became one with the burning forest.
He rose up to the sky,
And promised to reign heavily on them with ***** of fire.

The raven protected the poet,
And called on to the night,
And with one strong swing of her wings
She blew out the fire that consumed the phoenix and the forest.

Out of the ash,
The poet could re build nothing,
But the Raven offered him protection,
Under her dark wings.

In darkest of nights,
He was protected buy the calmest.
In the heat of the fire,
He feared to burn out and cease to be.
Star BG Jan 2019
And through the ashes
of challengers and loss
the mighty Phoenix’s soul rose gallantly.
Fearlessly and determined to spread wings
to succeed in all its endeavors.

Being discouraged is just a prelude to success.
Inspired by Alle Thanks
Ember Zola Jan 2019
When you left you ripped my heart out of my body
But you also gave me a gift
The gift of my true self
The self I tried to hide from the world and myself

So thank you for ripping me apart so I had the strength to rebuild
Rise up as the true me who no longer worries what others think

I just wished we could have walked this road together
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