Phoenix
(c)2013 Bob
Atkinson
Sulmona has a
son
who described
to us a beast
that bird of
dragon character
long lived in
tall oak trees
when long
life had ended
when breath
has stilled in heart
a newly born
young version
arises at
light of dawn
Ovid my
thanks profusely
for rising
above the dirt
an epic form
of poetry
not of
convention's mirth
you breathe
into my being
that wondrous
form of story
which flies
as though a Phoenix
from ashes
bringing glory
glory of our
present times
documenting
those follies broad
which shun
away our future
success not
to be bought
from these
golden ashes
of pain
manufactured by our lust
identity of
purpose fills our soul
follows
beyond with sacred trust
