A Fanciful Flight Into the World of Poetic Prose

[Phoenix]

Like many of you, I am a writer. I can write about anything; and for the most part, I’m fairly confident in my skills. Yeah, I said for the most part. That part I’m not so confident about—well, that would be my poetry. I’ve been writing poetry since I was a child. Some of my poems are neatly handwritten on crisp lined notebook paper--far more are scribbled on miscellaneous bits and pieces of oddly-shaped, multicolored paper. Hey, I use whatever I can find. When the words come to me, I jot them down. I just can't seem to help myself. I love poetry. I love to write it, and I love to read it. Both acts calm my soul.

I have many friends who are poets, and I love reading their poems; but to be perfectly honest, I prefer listening as they read their poetic prose to me. The beautiful soulful sound of a perfectly crafted piece of poetry takes my breath away. I stand in awe of my poet friends. It takes me chapters to say what they can say in just a few short lines.

I have never thought of myself as a poet. And truth be told, while I've written many poems over the years, I’ve never considered myself to be very good at it. Maybe that’s why I have always been so hesitant to share my poetry with other people. I don’t really know why I feel so shy when it comes to my poetry. In the end, it doesn’t really matter; my soul wants to sing its poetry out, so I really have no choice.

So Phoenix is taking another flight out of the ashes--a fanciful flight into the world of poetic prose, if you will. That said; I’d like to share a few of my poems with you. I hope you enjoy reading them as much as I enjoyed writing them.

The Writer and the Phoenix

I am the writer.
I am the phoenix.
Each day, I lift my head toward the warm rays of the sun,
Longing for flashes of insight,
For words, glorious words, to fill my mind,
I watch and wait,
I cry and weep,
Until they finally relent,
And seep into every crack and crevice of this instrument I call me.

I am the writer.
I am the phoenix.
I write because I can be no less than the Creator who created me,
It alone bids me spill my soul for the wounded world to see,
Bent, and bowed,
Naked, I stand before you,
Looking into your eyes,
I can read your pain,
I am your laughter and your tears,
On pages of white, I weep the words you refuse to speak.

I am the writer.
I am the phoenix.
I become who you would have me be,
I am the myth,
I am the story,
I fly high above the earth,
My fiery eyes forever scanning the landscape,
Searching for the best myrrh and cinnamon,
The finest leaves,
Upon which to built my nest.

I am the writer.
I am the phoenix.
I burn brightly then fade away,
Only to be reborn,
Through your eyes,
Another day,
I rise and spread my wings,
And toward heaven I fly,
If you listen hard enough, you will surely hear my cry.

© 2008 Phoenix Rising


The Quantum World

Living in a quantum world of particles,
Two bodies, male and female,
Shoot past one another,
In hopes of colliding just one time.

Possibility or probability,
Neither knows nor cares,
Hope for the cosmic opportunity,
To merge and create spurs them on.

© 2008 Phoenix Rising

Alone
Alone—
In my mind,
I stand unaware,
On the edge of the precipice.

Void—
The expansive cavern,
Stretches out before me,
As I free fall into the abyss.

Undone—
Totally and completely,
Fragmented beyond repair,
I disappear into thin air.

© 2008 Phoenix Rising

The Bouquet

Bright red,
Deep purple,
Yellow, green, and white,
Once standing strong,
Such a beautiful sight.

Once fresh and full,
Cut down in their prime,
Too much sorrow,
So much waste,
Such a crime.

© 2008 Phoenix Rising

The Sacrifice

Spinning in slow motion,
Thoughts screaming to be released,
Held in bondage,
Never to know peace.

Tears drop gently,
Yet the flood is controlled,
The damage is contained,
The dam must hold.

The body slowly dying,
Decaying cell by cell,
Left alone in the dark,
Rotting in a man-made hell.

Screams cut through the night,
And pierce a trembling heart,
Empty eyes glaze over,
Now their lives can start.

The sacrifice finally complete,
Smiles all around,
All is quiet now,
As it is buried deep in the ground.

Victory at last,
Status quo maintained,
Everyone can go home now,
Free of stain.

© 2008 Phoenix Rising

Guilt

I feel you tromping through my veins,
I want you to stop now,
I can no longer stand the pain.

I hear you pounding in my brain,
I told you to go away,
I will no longer sing your sad refrain.

I cannot handle your touch upon my skin,
No matter how hard you try,
I will not let you in.

My nerves are raw,
I am weak; it is true,
But I will fight on, for I must be rid of you.

© 2008 Phoenix Rising


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