Jak Hard
Jak Hard Poems
SON OF THE PHOENIX
For the man who cried,
whose tears healed wounds,
...
I open my arms for you so wide,
Because I am yours and you are mine.
When the sky wept, you helped me with no rest,
You gave me hope and showed me my right from my left.
...
The mountains are climbing toward the sky,
The clouds of trust and hope do die.
The glittering rivers dodge and turn and
The weak rotting banks crumble and churn.
...
Blank Gaze
Motionless Stare
Grabbed by death’s cold, dead hands.
His bony, ugly, rotting hands.
...
The dark clouds slowly cover the moon,
The cold ground and night breeze chills,
The spine tingling phenomena is so spooky.
The Earth casts a shadow with the suns rays behind,
...
A golden smile,
Let it stay for a while.
It brings so much joy,
More joy than a toy.
...
“In the winter, in the rain,
In the fall, in the pain,
In the victory, in the loss,
The Hou-oo sings, the Hou-oo sings!
...
As the wind whistled solemnly like the last breath of a man,
Chilling his body from his feet to his hands,
A little stream flowing was rippling unseen,
Filling the woods with a mysterious steam.
...
Across the oceans vast and wide,
Where the coral rides the tide and
The waves lap over the sand,
And wash away the castles that can not withstand.
...
I Look for Answers…
Tears of sadness prick my eyes as
The rays of hope and joy do die.
...
Your hair is like gold,
So pure,
So sleek
Your smile is like a diamond,
...
The Best Poem Of Jak Hard
Son Of The Phoenix
SON OF THE PHOENIX
For the man who cried,
whose tears healed wounds,
who walked unharmed through a blanket of fire.
Whose pure heart,
as warm as the sun,
never wavers its loyalty.
No water can macerate this man,
nor can any swords penetrate his flaming skin.
When he feels like it is time,
this man stretches out his iridescent golden-red wings,
showing his bluish tinged underbelly, and soars through the clouds before
landing with elegance.
He lets out a loud, warm, warbling cry that echoes through the depths of the Earth,
filling all the peoples hearts with solace,
before flying to its cinnamon twig nest and bursting into white-hot flames.
As it burns and the last of the cinnamon aroma drifts weightlessly through the air, a new bird emerges.
The bird, whose feathers shimmer in tiny, sparkling fragments of colour and flame,
lifts off the funeral pyre and flies the ashes to Heliopolis, to the sun temple where they are kept to sprinkle over sacred bodies.
The bird flies back to its tree where it cries,
and in a slow metamorphosis,
evolves back into a man.
As he stretches once more,
he looks at the tree that he disintegrated and cries on it.
The tree immediately grows back,
more beautiful and more lush than ever before,
ready to be used.
He sees,
in minds eye,
his father, the phoenix,
and soars up in the air with courage,
more than any other person.
He truly is the Son of the Phoenix.
Jak Hard Comments
Jak Hard Popularity
Jak Hard Popularity
Delivering Poems Around The World
Poems are the property of their respective owners. All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge...
4/25/2024 3:03:55 PM # 1.0.0.1119
