Phoenix’s Barricade


She shimmers in the sunbeams, feathers glistening like burning coal
Her eyes trace shards of broken scene, behind bars that leave her cold.

Meadows bloom of other realities, that she may never call her own.
Phoenix dreams of long lost freedom, to the lands she used to know.

She perches there in silence, passing days without her song
Resenting what she once dreamed true, convinced that she was wrong.

She shall never sing again, she fears, though she would never say.
If asked, she’d simply nod her head, pause, and turn away.

But in nightmares, she is falling. Her wings are broken glass.
And soft-spoken breeze that tosses her sends her spiraled to the grass.

She opens her eyes, breath heaving. A thunder in her heart.
The moon is brilliant tonight, but no mend does that impart.

Her eyes stray to her crimson wings, of little use to her now
For in chains and rings and behind iron bars, to her hell, forever bound.

Her feathers begin to wither, her light begins to fade.
The flame that lay beneath her skin, is smothered behind black shade.

A veil is cast over her eyes, she can no longer breathe.
She feels herself begin to shatter, a million pieces, she believes.

A wisp of breeze, a sorrowful moan, and Phoenix finds herself gone.
And wishes that the world might care, though it leaves her with a yawn.

And when her eyes awake again, she finds herself in ash.
Buried under dark black sand, and smoldering flames of her past.

Her feathers glitter with a thousand rubies, crushed and caught to her wings.
Her eyes see more than she ever has, amber with emerald green.

She stands and approaches her bars with care, slipping out of her chains.
She is small enough now, she sees, to escape, perhaps unscathed.

She slips past her bars, takes to the sky, and flies away in silence.
With a click of her beak and the raise of her wings, she smirks in pure defiance.

Clouds of sky beneath her, sunrise just ahead.
Chariots of silver stars race home, and leave streaks of cherry in their stead.

She is headed there too, she knows. Where heart meets sullen home.
But not so sullen anymore, because Phoenix has been reborn.

This was originally inspired by my desire to be freed of my house arrest. No, I haven’t done anything bad, I’m only stuck in the house because I have to be for six weeks after my kidney transplant. Only three weeks left (yay). Anyway, it began as my desire to go outside and slowly shifted to my recent writer’s block and my inexplicably awful writing that as of late just seems to be getting worse… And it also portrays the hope that someday soon I will be free of both of those cages.


About Mattie J.

My name is Mattie J. Hamilton, and I am seventeen years old. I live in a cute little house in the country in Southern Indiana, and have lived there my entire life. I self-published two books of poetry a few years ago, but I much prefer writing fiction of poetry, journalism, or any other sort of writing. I'm somewhat new to the blogging world, and I may come off as a bit of an ameteur, but hey, I am an ameteur. Proud of it. After all, I'm just a kid, and I have plenty of time to learn.

15 responses »

  1. Pingback: Thursday Poets Rally Week 49 Fresh Poets 2 Explore Page (July 28-August 3, 2011) | Promising Poets' Poetry Cafe

    • Thank you ^_^ But if I may ask, what exactly is poet rally? I looked at the site, but I’m still not quite sure I understand.

      • the web has a mission statement, read it.

        poets rally is an event when poets come together and celebrate poetry,

        because of the number of participants and time differences from poets around the world, we are open an entire week and poets submit a poem, make 18 comments to poets who are participants, or fresh poets who represented at promising poets poetry cafe.

        officials awards are given via nominations.

  2. Your writing is superb! I know you said recently you feel like it’s getting worse, but this sounded amazing. keep writing and i’m sure you’ll be free from both cages before u know it. =)

    • Thanks! Writing’s the only way to get over writer’s block, I believe. But I’ll definitely be glad when I can get out of the house long enough for some inspiration.

  3. Beautiful! You have done well, and I wish you well. As for writers block, I don’t believe in it. Just write–good or bad–just do it. You have the power to release it, no one can lock it away. That’s what this old dude thinks anyway!

    • Well, I’m going to be eighteen in a couple months. But thank you ^_^. That site looks pretty cool, I’ve never seen so many poets gather in one place (except for when I was twelve on

  4. I know exactly how you feel I also had an extended stay and house arrest after a kidney transplant I hope your doing well now : ) …loved the poem thank you for sharing

    • As the transplant is recent, I don’t really know much about it first-hand except what the doctors have told me. Is there anything I’m going to be restricted from doing for the rest of my life?

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