Firebird from the ocean

I was going to write something serious and this came out instead. For the dverse prompt.

Polenova-Firebird

 

The bird flew out of the turret
above the waving fronds
of water weed and minnows
in drowning sunset ponds.

The bird flew high and mighty
wreathed in golden flame
for the house in the woods was falling
stones were falling down like shame

and I held out hands in pleading
watched the webbed veins fire-glow
called the bird to taste the waters
that were gleaming here below.

A salmon leap in darkness
and the pool with berries strung
was a web of white moth-flutter
a song that’s never sung

a song in bird-throat frozen
tales ended before they’re begun
and a bird-love lost in the ocean
where flames wave like hands in the sun.

The words I couldn’t say

A string of verses on a thread of twitter prompts.

519px-leon_bakst_drawing_the_firebird

The words I couldn’t say,

I hear them in the wind

and in the falling leaves,

but they mutter loudest in the raindrops,

dripping from the eaves.

 

I let you go because you wouldn’t stay,

the ties that bind all came undone,

floating like silver gossamer in the breeze.

 

You wouldn’t give me back my heart,

A keepsake, you said with a tragic air.

But you will forget, let its fluttering die,

a dull brown bird

with no song to sing.

 

Should I have known and raised my guard,

a carapace of tempered steel,

against the sweet words and soft looks you shot my way?

Can any heart become stone at will,

and the song in the blood a battle cry?

 

Had I held myself aloof

and turned away the fiery flow,

I would not have known the pain of broken dreams,

but nor would I have seen blue horses running,

and firebirds paint the sky with flame.