The Phoenix

 She was perched on a large silver branch,

A gigantic golden bird with enormous wings;

Her eyes were jade green like a tiger's, 

On her breast there was a brilliant white patch, 

And on her imperial head, a blue crest bobbed proudly. 

Her wings glinted red-gold and orange in the streaming sunlight. 

She was a marvel to look at; as pretty as a peacock, 

And probably just as proud-- her head was cocked imperiously as she surveyed her surroundings. 

She was perched there a long, long time;

Aeons, probably, silently watching 

As the world around her grew from infancy to adulthood. 

She grew, too, birthing a host of beautiful and divine children--

Tiny golden chicks with honeyed voices and blueish-green eyes. 

It was a dazzling sight. 

Alas, such beauty and tranquility is bound to attract the evil eye:

One cruel day, the sky darkened grimly 

As birds of prey, cawing and shrieking, 

Descended onto mama bird and her brood. 

She fought valiantly; her talons and beak claimed many lives, while her eyes shot holy fire. 

But even she could not hold out forever. 

Her wounds were many, but she did not give up. 

Up in flames she went, taking her brood with her; 

The fire also destroyed her enemies, and their raucous cries were mixed with her soft, melodic keening. 

Their destinies mingle here:

Legend has it that every time the golden bird is reborn, 

She is attacked by avaricious creatures, 

Demons straight from the pits of Hell:

But she is able to fend them off in a whirl of fire, 

Sleeping till it is time to rise again. 

We, her children, are reborn also, 

Protecting her as she protects us. 

This is her song. This is our song. 

This is our tribute to our valiant Mother;

Come, sing with us as she draws us all

 Under her flaming golden wings. 

The Fire Giver's Song

 Heya folksss, here's another poem! I hope you like it!! 

Part 1: Fire 

They sprang up from the clay I'd moulded,

Their hair flowing, their clothes brightly coloured. 

You are mortals, I told them. You will be called 'man.' 

(At this time, there were no women). 

Go, my children, and inhabit the earth.

That is the command of The Great and Almighty Father, Zeus. 

I bestowed the gift of speech, and wisdom, and knowledge on these newly formed humans;

My labour of love, formed by my clay and Zeus' seed. 

When Zeus saw them populating the earth,

He was well pleased: 

'Only,' quoth he, 'do not give them fire;

They will grow arrogant, and will seek to dethrone me.

You know what I will do if you disobey.' 

His eyes flashed; the clouds groaned. 

'Your wish is my command, master,' I said quietly. 

Immortals are not supposed to love. 

Well, gods aren't supposed to. 

I was immortal, but no longer a god, 

And so I was free to love:

I loved these humans, my creation. Mine!

And so, in a moment of weakness, 

I gave the humans the gift of fire:

Shining bright with Apollo's light, 

Crafted finely in Hephaestus' forge. 

I carried the fire to them myself,

And taught them how to use it. 

For a while, everything went smoothly. 

But it was foolish of me to consider myself safe:

This was the folly of mortals, 

And I paid for it dearly. 

Part 2: The Great Eagle 

When Zeus, the All-Seeing, the All-Powerful, 

Found out what I'd done, his wrath knew no bounds. 

I knew he wasn't a gentle person,

But for old times' sake, I expected a lesser punishment. 

What laughable folly that was!

Zeus had me chained to a cliff on Mount Caucasus,

And every afternoon, a ferocious eagle would come to feast on my liver. 

Ah, immortal that I am, this liver of mine

Grew again each night. 

Have you ever wondered what it's like 

When Immortals bleed? 

Our blood is gold, not red; 

We feel pain, too, and it hits us even worse than mortals-- 

For we cannot even escape into blessed Death. 

I was forced to endure an eternity of pain, 

Just because I dared to love mortals. 

My shrieks rang around Caucasus, 

And Zeus, sipping purple ambrosia on his golden throne, 

Smiled grimly. 

I was chained there for aeons.

I had plenty of time to think;

In time, the mortals I loved 

Grew stupid and thoughtless and evil, 

And began misusing the gifts I'd bestowed on them. 

This hurt me more than the eagle;

But I did not stop loving them. 

I still do. 

Part 3: The Liberation 

Sometimes, the gods tire of their cruel games. 

I still do not know what made Zeus change his mind, 

But he sent his hulking son, 

The demigod Heracles, to free me from my torment:

I had not thought it possible, but this boy 

Shot the great eagle dead with just one 

silver-tipped arrow. 

He took me to see Zeus, and Zeus 

Clasped my hand and declared me pardoned;

But I saw the thunder in his eyes, and understood the unspoken implications. 

Stay in your place, Titan. 

By this time, I was tired. 

Exhausted, really, after everything I'd gone through. 

Not wishing to participate in the gods' cruel power plays anymore, 

I quietly retired to a more obscure part of history:

But I do have one consolation. 

Prometheus, fire-giver, will always be remembered

For the knowledge I bestowed on humans. 

And now, I bid thee goodbye.