About the Phoenix Bird
You can read various accounts of the phoenix and its historical origins, which span from Greece to Egypt to Persia and more. We find the Italian Dante’s poetic description to be inspiring and quite image-rich:
Thus, as by mighty sages we are told,
The Phœnix dies, and then is born again,
When it is close upon five centuries old.
In all its life it eats not herb nor grain,
But only tears that from frankincense flow;
It, for a shroud, sweet nard and myrrh contain.
—Dante, from The Inferno, Canto XXIV
Across the years, this mythical bird has come in many colors, but the most enduring ones seem to be red and gold. Add a little peacock, some sapphire eyes, purple legs, wings of flower-like blue, a dash of rose color—and maybe a nimbus with seven rays, like Helios (personification of the Sun by the Greeks)—and you’ve got quite the astonishing bird!
The bottom line with the phoenix, regardless of its colors, is the bird’s rebirth or regeneration, most usually from the ashes of a fire that consumed the prior bird. Sad story, happy ending—at least for 500 years, until the phoenix must go through the process all over again.
Since the bird is associated with the Sun, the regeneration is a handy parallel with the sun’s “death” and “rebirth” each day. At least the phoenix gets a break and manages to enjoy life for 500 years in the interim!
Poetry Prompt: The Phoenix
Write a poem about a phoenix. Use anything you learned about the bird here, or go do more research; whatever you wish. Take advantage of the colors, the myth, the Sun halo, and maybe something in your own life.
Photo by Judy Dean, Creative Commons, via Flickr.
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L.L. Barkat is the author of twelve books, including The Novelist: A Novella; Rumors of Water: Thoughts on Creativity & Writing (twice named a Best Book of 2011); and Love, Etc. Her poems have appeared at Every Day Poems, Best American Poetry, VQR, NPR, and the BBC.
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Lucinda Berry Hill says
She Rose Again
Like a bird,
That’s born with wings,
A girl was born
To soar and sing;
To reach great heights,
To serve and love,
To spread the joy
Of God above.
Spotless, blameless
From the start
‘Til someone broke
Into her heart.
They ripped her tail,
They tore her wings,
They thought they quenched
Her spirit’s flame.
They watched her stumble,
Losing life.
Too weak and thirsty
To give a fight.
It seemed all hope
Was finally lost
For this bird,
Who was kicked and tossed,
Until she crawled
To Living Water.
It filled her heart
And made her stronger.
Her wings were healed.
No longer maimed,
She rose again
From where she lay.
A girl restored,
Renewed, revived,
Stronger with
New wings to rise.
And now to share
With all who meet her
The message of
Her great redeemer.
Author Lucinda Berry Hill ©