The clanging stills,
the distraction settles,
the heart hears
the song calling, and
then sings, resurrecting
the phoenix.
But I'm not too sure
of where I go
after the phoenix rises
and the phoenix soars
to the sun's new song
but I hear its rays
as they grasp my heart,
smoldering.
This poem is submitted for One Shot Wednesday, sponsored by One Stop Poetry. To see other poems, please visit the site. The links will be live at 4 p.m. Central time.
Photograph: Phoenix by Vojko Kalan via Public Domain Pictures. Used with permission.
15 comments:
The cloud looks almost like a palm held out and open, or a giant wing in its upward motion.
The sky is infinite, has no ceiling. There's nothing to stop the phoenix from going higher still. There is only possibility.
Oooh, I like this! The after-effects of the inimitable phoenix. Hmmm ...
i like it
:-)
A smoldering heart means a heart that has seen fire. Mmmmm.
I am working on the listening - the stilling of the clamor. I love what you've said is possible in the silence.
This is wonderful. The questioning of what happens 'after'. We all have a goal in mind but where will we ultimately end up 'after'? Very nicely done- thanks for sharing. Cool picture too btw. :)
After first contemplating the image of clouds, primes my imagination to think of the phoenix arisen in the sky. Now that's a novel idea. Even more poignant when the speaker questions uncertainty as to where to go... I've always imagined it at ground level via ash. I like your poem better than the traditional notion.
Your phoenix cloud is soaring--and your question remains. Where, indeed, can you go but where the hand that clutches your heart pulls you?
very nice...i am often skeptical of phoenix poems as they rather far fall from a theme butyou pull it off nicely...
I like this questioning about where you go after the phoenix rises...after it soars...that is a profound one..that will leaving me thinking...bkm
Many nice facets of this poem that are mentioned above. I find your first line especially effective. When I read it, it felt like the clanging in my mind stopped too so that I could hear the rest of the poem. Thank you for sharing.
I absolutely love it when a poem takes a myth further into the next room of the dream. That's really our job, I think, or one important duty. To say the poem rises like a phoenix repeats the myth; but to ask is that rising makes any difference on the poet who simply must go on -- now THAT'S another room. And that a firebird of one's making can actually destroy its source: then that old country song is true: Mama, don't let your sons (or daughters) grow up to be poets ... Searingly good. - Brendan
hmmm - i hear the calling of the song in your poem glynn..
Oh, this is a fire straight to my veins ... as one of my favorite myths of all times takes on a new dimension. Thank you for sharing this lovely photo and poem!
Its beautiful.. I enjoyed it very much..
ॐ नमः शिवाय
Om Namah Shivaya
http://shadowdancingwithmind.blogspot.com/2011/02/whispers-another-kind-of-valentines-day.html
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