Chaperon of Winter

Tendrils of azure hair,
ice splintering, stretching wings.
Frozen in time, now awakening
from the prison of ice now freeing.
Tears of ice, the first tears cried
like those of the procession when she died.
Awakening as a girl, a woman, a maiden
stretching her wings as a raven.
Rising to the frozen sky
she will keep it winter, all will cry.

The Phoenix

Phoenix bird, burning bright,
stretching wings of brilliant light.

Watching your flame I often wonder
why you fly with peals of thunder.

Majestically your feathers glow,
but no man can know,

what first lit your flame,
heated feather glow the same.

As men seek to pluck them out,
you don't cry, but shout.

How can a bird, noble and true,
after death be always new?

Loving itself until the end,
about which many poets penned.

The cycle of death, and life
you are both husband and wife.

Heroes try and cut you down,
depriving you of your rightful crown.

For some time they did succeed,
causing your wings to break and bleed.

If you reignite yourself,
through burning, back to health.

Scorching your wings of brilliant red,
lifting again your majestic head.

Flames at dusk fill the sky,
wise men look up and cry.

The protector of those who wander at night,
always at dusk takes comforting flight.

For travelers lost he lights the way
so they wander in light like day.

Keeper of the eternal fire,
fly ever on, and do not tire.

When oppressed by winter's hand,
it does not change his eternal plan.

Majestic scarlet, echos of blood
wings unleashing the winds of flood.

Rippling muscles shine in the light,
as you take your victory flight.

Enemies below strewn, and slain.
Layers of death on the battle plain.

Aftermath, majestic and true,
your victory flight, flew.

Trailing behind are embers,
in the night the flame glitters.

For if the Phoenix does not live,
what love to earth can he give.

Smaug

Fire rakes the skies
from the dragon's maw.
On wings of death he flies
no one knows his flaw.

Armored above and below
he flies with vengeance hot.
The weakness a small bird knows,
but know this, the dragon does not.

An arrow flew, straight and true
embedding to its black hilt.
The great wyrm this arrow slew,
the balance of power did tilt.

Flight of the Phoenix

Fly
phoenix
away to
skyward glory,
consuming fire
flying across the sky.
Followed by dying embers
consume again to be reborn
another morn you will live to see
as the smoky death which brings life to thee.