The Firebird
I am listening to Stravinsky's Firebird Suite, and kind of wanted to write a poem about it:
Firebird rising from the ashes
Wings of red, eyes of gray smoke
Tail of yellow, orange, and fire
The feathers gleaming.
Stretching a neck long and slender as a swan
Flapping wings that burst in red
You screech to the sky, preparing for flight.
Wait a minute, decide and then...
You sweep down from your perch,
Flying over the land you call home.
You are immortal, never dieing, everlasting
You grant those who find you whatever they wish
You bring back life to that which is dead.
You are the Phoenix, the Firebird,
And you shall live on forever.
Copyright (C) NearertoGod
I am listening to Stravinsky's Firebird Suite, and kind of wanted to write a poem about it:
Firebird rising from the ashes
Wings of red, eyes of gray smoke
Tail of yellow, orange, and fire
The feathers gleaming.
Stretching a neck long and slender as a swan
Flapping wings that burst in red
You screech to the sky, preparing for flight.
Wait a minute, decide and then...
You sweep down from your perch,
Flying over the land you call home.
You are immortal, never dieing, everlasting
You grant those who find you whatever they wish
You bring back life to that which is dead.
You are the Phoenix, the Firebird,
And you shall live on forever.
Copyright (C) NearertoGod