From the crackling through the flame, lifts the firebird with no name; shrieks and whistles, caws and echoes, shadows, embers, dance untamed. Flight starts bulky, wings unfurl, fiery feathers flex and curl; dark smoke billows, volume high, then finally phoenix finds the sky.
The Mansionic Perspective 
A fine poem, Tom. Words that capture the flight of the Phoenix. The artwork, too… I can see her rising!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks, Ford. The phoenix fires the imagination. (Yes, I’ll groan for you!!!🤭)
LikeLiked by 1 person
I will not ‘rise’ to such groaning, Tom, either from you or me 😁😅 Oh, okay, I will 😊
LikeLiked by 1 person
🤣 hehehe! It has to be done!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Love a phoenix – I guess it’s ‘Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix’?! 🪄
LikeLiked by 1 person
I’ve always had a fascination with the phoenix, Chris… they pop up quite frequently on my blog! 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
Like the play on the “f” sounds😀 And no Tom, I do not mean ‘that’ F-word!🤣 Just saying!😌
LikeLiked by 1 person
One has no clue has to what heff word you refer, Hicewolf. 😌🤭😇
LikeLiked by 1 person
No…can’t say I have any clue what word I was referring to either😉
LikeLiked by 1 person
😇😊
LikeLiked by 1 person