Gallantly the Phoenix soars so wondrous;
Round the forest where leaves shrivel cold.
Blackened by the heat of inner combustion,
Fields of life destroyed by the fiend of fire.
The meadows that once stood firm to the yonder sun;
Once before flourishing by love not a whisper of mind.
Yet deep inside the passing moments, came the demons,
Crushing so much life into a tiny box among the gallows.
With their blazing tempo and the fiery glaze they settle,
Deep within the confines of temperate nature.
Till amidst the rubble surges a single sapling,
Whose fight is yet cut short in the battle of Gods.
Such a spring as to the chill of winter's brush;
Painting shivers in a stroke of frozen windshields.
Where in the hibernation of the Phoenix;
Roams a wolf gnarled by an evil epitaph.
The snow from rain to clouds converses with a windy soul,
In flight towards the path of banishment.
Yet the gusts seem to penetrate an inner direction,
One that returns anew in the vibrance of past belongings.
In this yawn, the waves rise a Puppet Master pulling strings;
Where the fairy tale thrives in mind.
A contest entry
- Whatever by Earthmagick.
480 points, ended October 20, 2007, 25 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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Superb/Imaginative/Intriguing
Wow, a most unique right in your wonderous enigmatic style. Your imagery sent my imagination back to medieval times, no less. Also, for one with my background, the phrase: Puppet Master, brought to mind this old Heinlien novel: The Puppet Masters. For those not familiar with it, here is a link:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Puppet_Masters
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Ben this is awesome! you were always such an amazing poet to me. Good luck in the contest and keep it up
=D
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