[ P O E T R Y ]
This section is dedicated to poetry of all sorts. Some of it may be my own, some may belong to others. All will be given credit when credit is due wherever possible. If you would like to have me post something here or have a suggestions, please feel free to leave me an E-Mail.
Phoenix Phyre
Born of fire from ash awake, life too short, so much at stake.
From fire bright, in life so cold, seeking, searching, to find and hold.
Fuel to flames, so burning bright, stalking, flying in the night.
Love, hate, lust and ecstasy, finding a way that he can see.
Fear of past, emotions spent, heart so heavy, tensions pent.
Blocked by walls, few men can see, hidden thoughts, desire to be.
Walking tall, though not too proud, hidden now, behind a cloud.
Giving life, and courtesy, to seeking one, to set me free.
From fire born, he comes my way, flying high, above the sway.
Life so bold, yet pains not shown, to many he is never known.
Now each other do we see, two powers meet in synergy.
One so cold, yet flaming high, the other bold but chill and sly.
The clash begins, a battle joined, to see the other, in time purloined.
The circling starts, fires wake, a daemon bounding through the gates.
Fire Bird meets Dragon cold, passions scream throughout the fold.
Time and space are meaningless, as they tumble, toss, and twist.
Lovers now they, for a while, in discovery of wit and wile.
Tenderness, time is spent, remembering things and what they meant.
Joined now, in union bold, they still remain a tale untold.
Yet knowing that perhaps some day, stronger ties may bind and stay.
Now time hath past… the fire dims, they separate to follow whims.
The Dragon cold has lost this day, the fire of his heart does fade.
The Phoenix flys again once freed, to find the flames he feels he needs.
Perhaps some time in futures past, they'll reunite, this time to last.
- C. Frederick Blessing
Originally 11-15-1995,
revised 9-25-1998
It is later than you think...
On an ancient wall in China,
where a brooding buddha blinks...
Deeply graven is the message;
"It is later than you think!"
The clock of life is wound but once,
and no man has the power,
to tell just when the hands will stop,
at late or early hour.
Go forth now my brother!
The past a golden link.
For deeply graven is the message;
"It is later than you think!"
- Author Unknown
