Songs of the Phoenix Bird

Reflections

noreply@blogger.com (Sofia Rhoda) — Mon, 27 Jul 2009 14:49:00 +0000

There, in that space, she could be seen reflected of four different ways and styles.
Standing up, seeing towards the front… to the other side of the lagoon… watching the full moon… in a silvered evening … her, with a long black dress… red hair covering her back, of naked arms… her fingers, half-opened drop sheets with spilled letters on them.
In another image, she was reached to distinguish, overlapping in the landscape of a fecund world… only her face… her clear eyes, painted black…… her lips in deep red…her water hair cracked like in a waterfall, surely, she was part of some jungle or forest.
The third image, it gave in which to think… was very pretty, the dolphin to the left. ..just a little bit below the surface of the sea… like getting itself contented to jump… she was there, standing to the right, only few meters upwards… on a great rock like rocky crag… the veils of her white dress twisting with the winds of her golden, long, wavy hair… her fallen arms… her glance lost, to the front in the horizon. The fourth of them, it gave the impression to be standing up on the ladder of some temple, dressed in beige… as a native… or an Egyptian woman… her hair short and black … her glance directed to the sky… her arms, are two open wings with clear feathers.
Completing all of them, is the fifth one…she wears a mask, while she observes the other four.

Reflections

Visions

noreply@blogger.com (Sofia Rhoda) — Sun, 26 Jul 2009 13:15:00 +0000

I Arrive almost behind schedule,
but there I found you, hidden among all those forms …

that are not seen at first.

You were, several forms at the same time;

vibrant wind, light plasmations…

darker image emphasizing in the penumbra…

gigantic shades that finished in the sky…

fire circles…. flames traspassing me….

with the brightness, that reveals all the conceals.

Visions

One Limit

noreply@blogger.com (Sofia Rhoda) — Sat, 25 Jul 2009 16:07:00 +0000

I must find a place where to bury my fury… where to give out my sadness…
I cannot take them with me… they are fire tongues…
bites of predators looking for food in the emotions… until devouring us.
It does not stop to surprise me the hard that life can get to be;
Sometimes one is not the sufficiently strong to support it and you can find
yourself like cached in a suffocating gray bubble… that shows to you
That there is only a thin line, a space that separates you from madness
or death… Then, I wish you can find out when you are in the threshold;
So then you can, to go back down in time… or to die peacefully.

One Limit

Hopi Prophecy

noreply@blogger.com (Sofia Rhoda) — Fri, 24 Jul 2009 15:07:00 +0000

You have been saying people that this the last hour. Now you must go back and tell people that this is the hour. There must be things that they must be considered: where are you living? What are your relationships? Are you in a good relationship? Where is water? Know your garden. It is time to speak the truth. Create your community. Be good with each other. Do not look beyond yourself by leader. This could be a good moment!
There is a river now that is flowing very quickly. It is so large and fast that there are people who will be afraid. They will try to cling to the shore. They will feel they are breaking and will suffer greatly. Know the river has its destination. Elders say that we must put aside the coast, push toward the center of the River, maintaining the eyes open and heads above water.
See. who is there with you and celebrate. At this moment of the story, we will not take anything personally. Above all, to ourselves. At the moment, what we do, our spiritual growth and the journey reached an stop. The time of the lone wolf was completed. Meet! Get together. Throw the word fight away from your attitude and vocabulary. Everything we do now should be done in a sacred way and in celebration. We are the ones we have been waiting.

The Priestess

noreply@blogger.com (Sofia Rhoda) — Thu, 23 Jul 2009 13:11:00 +0000

She didn't know if there are lines of the world but try to touch them...
She never knew if she could overcome death or get friends with it...
but she tried with will to see the sparkles of that power,

the one that could illuminate her in a flash of infinite existence.

The Priestess

The Songs of the Phoenix Bird

noreply@blogger.com (Sofia Rhoda) — Mon, 20 Jul 2009 15:31:00 +0000

Life, will be always more important that anything that could be written on it….the soul is touched, the mind, crosses forged footpaths of letters… there are; the unfinished poems contained in a hidden annotation, that have not found channel still… The empty verses that prop up to the heart of the lies. Those that sleep in vaporous consolation, in depths, where not yet the ink arrives. My hands… are the perennial cascade of where the verses to the paper fall, I confess; that I do not know yet, what has written through my fingers… perhaps transmisors sparkles, hidden energies of multiple colors, images from the labyrinths of the thought… deep moans, breezes of temporary well-being… not everything found the exit in words, or have been able to last in spilled letters… there were only some messages; if they come from the heavens or they have escaped from the infraworlds… I have only been able to turn them in poems. I conclude; … that the poetry, is the unique one… that could be ventured to count the sand grains in the deserts… to catch the song of the oceans… to satisfy the appetite within the more sensible soul… to distinguish the lights of the dark….the seeds that give new life… to offer… and to find in it the whole… from the opening field of our hands.

The Poetress

Space for our Friends

noreply@blogger.com (Sofia Rhoda) — Mon, 20 Jul 2009 15:28:00 +0000

You can Send us your Poem or Paint...

and place it here at the Space for our Friends...the Artists.

Josef Bican

To the Great Poets

noreply@blogger.com (Sofia Rhoda) — Mon, 20 Jul 2009 02:19:00 +0000

There were many things of which.... by shame, education or to be judged fear... to write, I did not dare, I did not want… I was affraid… as much freedom, it commoved to me. But, I would do it, I saw, they removed everything and returned… and more they brought from there. Their words, let us glimpse that from imaginary rainbows they came, formed in colorful letters, taking to us… like in company, by ways with words fallen there, in that only way where they described the new things were hide… or those other ones, like a mirror… where to reflect to us, what is already known. We noticed their courage… they`ve shown their naked feel, crumbling of all the moments, the philosophies. Getting friends with whichever subject they preferred. Making the love to that form and circumstance…tearing out all the leaves in a poetic indagatory. But in which a rainbow, the tracks of their letters I believed I saw…in the new colors… their shadows I discovered. we could not see who did it, but they were there, left it to us, at brief moments they make us feel them…taking us... to take walks among their poems.

Voices of the Earth - To the Water

noreply@blogger.com (Sofia Rhoda) — Sat, 18 Jul 2009 06:42:00 +0000

We all know you, we all need you... you, are as necessary as the air and as well as the Earth, you are also a mother. Without you, we could not live.You born, into thousands of drops curled up until being fused forming energy that you transform in light that clarifies …you are life for the beings who feed the beings… deep and neverending oceans. When your drops separate… they maintain its interval following the same direction… like so many birds together joining in its flight… dancing… and sweet times coming as crystalline curtains from the rain sky… falling on its pools… exploding in crystal water -flowers. You have remained in my memory… as something transparent… like a river that ruge there down threatening…. like the liquidity that our thirst al all moments...always calms.

To the Water

Voices of the Earth - Mother Earth

noreply@blogger.com (Sofia Rhoda) — Mon, 13 Jul 2009 02:59:00 +0000

In the moss.... that grew covering to the trunk, inhabited the old green guy, that there, seen front, because of profile, she was a beautiful young woman who innocent watches towards the mountains of there far… where the sun sets, each afternoon. That, I believed to see…because in you, everything hoards of ancestral power…, primitive, noble and fertile… you show your generosity,…it is your creation… sprinkled with stones…vegetal world, cracked when the creatures show up.
You are… multicolor days, gray crushes, translucent target strained between the trees leaves… together, long, perfect sun rays….hidden, scattered,… hipnotic vortices… relaxing passage of time. In you, the nights are offered long… exists the doing of the freedom in any dawn… transparent veils defolding themselves in shocks that let glimpse… showing everything otherwise… the feeling is surprised before your mysteries… extasis before as much splendor, sublimates in respect embraces to you in gratefulness….shouting in a reclamation your demand, to follow keeping us firm on you, requesting, what you have always wanted… a gesture of unity, towards you.

Mother Earth

Voices from the World - The Wall

noreply@blogger.com (Sofia Rhoda) — Mon, 13 Jul 2009 02:55:00 +0000

If your heart has leaded you towards a white wall illuminated by the knowledge
write there the new story
that you wish to create

The Wall

(its clear side)

Voices from the World - Some Signals

noreply@blogger.com (Sofia Rhoda) — Mon, 13 Jul 2009 02:53:00 +0000

Many dolphins fleeing in the sea, scared… floats of lights zigzagging blinking disappearing among the clouds…. pieces of meteors falling of the sky… glaciers defrosting….exhausting heat… volcanos in eruption… hurricanes… earthquakes… tornados…floods… forest fires… very dirty rivers… extinction of species… epidemics… animal slaughters… genetic manipulations. Many religions…many dark magic… perverse currencies by valuable beings… some priests and people pedophillians… pornography without control… strong images caught and distributed… cameras in any side recording…. confused governments… corruption at all level… faced women… some polices with the narcotics and kidnappers… chemical arms… violent young people being damaged among themselves… chemical drugs… waves and frequencies more contaminated.

Some Signals

The Dark Voices - The Wall

noreply@blogger.com (Sofia Rhoda) — Mon, 13 Jul 2009 02:50:00 +0000

His fears made him notice its company;
A wall to his left….
or something that was starting to build…
as his own eternal prison

The Wall (its dark side)

The Dark Voices - The Emptiness

noreply@blogger.com (Sofia Rhoda) — Mon, 13 Jul 2009 02:47:00 +0000

When you wish to touch to me

You will feel that you cannot enter

Nor you will be either able to leave…

The Emptiness

The Hidden Voices - Is it Happiness?

noreply@blogger.com (Sofia Rhoda) — Mon, 13 Jul 2009 02:42:00 +0000

To be able to sleep with a clean conscience…
The pleasure disguised in ephemeral joys of temporal ecstasies…
The relieve when suffering is absented…
The peace of not longing for anything…

Is it Happiness?

The Hidden Voices - The False Magicans

noreply@blogger.com (Sofia Rhoda) — Mon, 13 Jul 2009 02:40:00 +0000

They came to show him,

how to touch the sky with his fingers...

later... they went away,

leaving him turning around...lost in his confusion.

The False Magicians

Other Voices - The Body

noreply@blogger.com (Sofia Rhoda) — Mon, 13 Jul 2009 02:37:00 +0000

Love remains the same
Even if I am not here.

The Body

Other Voices - There, Where You Are

noreply@blogger.com (Sofia Rhoda) — Mon, 13 Jul 2009 02:35:00 +0000

Back in those days, she had a family… although already long time of that… when she was a teenager… and also, she had brothers, and sisters. Those images came to her memory… still saw their faces of young people… a blue sea, with glad people, the afternoon, the guitar, the songs… the night, one night like this exactly… 9 of May Then, never lacked the truck to get up with all the friends, to share our joy and our songs, in each house… each door… each balcony and terrace… that night, were night of serenade. Nor voice tapeworm… and the palms of the hands already burned to me… when we arrived at that house… where energetic and gorgeous… my dear mother, still lived.

There...where you are.

Voices of Power - A Dream

noreply@blogger.com (Sofia Rhoda) — Mon, 13 Jul 2009 02:32:00 +0000

You appeared back in the heights of those mountains… and you jumped on the river and you got into my dream… you continued dancing by the way… there, just under the tree you spoke of duality… of two minds, two bodies … two worlds… the well-known… the unknown.

A Dream

Voices of Power - One Phoenix Bird

noreply@blogger.com (Sofia Rhoda) — Mon, 13 Jul 2009 02:29:00 +0000

In this life, she had reserved all her passion and her sweetness for him… The most beautiful and sublimate thing arrive ….and the most painful and terrible. His love; made her burn heating, devouring… profaning her fire in rendering darkness… being consumed…in hours of weeping, alive water rivers… Not even she thought about destroying everything…. there she stayed… waiting. Between the dust of the ashes… she resurged resembling a white bird... looking towards its red chest plumage... that did not allow her to overcome the flight…yet.

One Phoenix Bird

Voices that Exist - Some Consciences

noreply@blogger.com (Sofia Rhoda) — Mon, 13 Jul 2009 02:26:00 +0000

It is not about desires or hopes,
It is about to take conscience...

it sounds crude if it is expressing the feeling in open,

well then, no more innocent beings suffering.
It is very hard to understand if the corpses
of the martyrs help in something with their deaths.
The earth pleases more to drink waters and rains…
… that washes all that spilled blood.

Some Consciences

Voices that Exist - The Fire

noreply@blogger.com (Sofia Rhoda) — Mon, 13 Jul 2009 02:23:00 +0000

During your life… in many occasions you noticed my presence. Although far, I have accompanied you…

warming you up… my heat has fed you.
That time you came to see me, you were drinking, you danced, and you spoke with me… we shared…. you told me about your sadnesses…and I confessed to you one that I have… there are times where I feel, that new worlds persecute to me, threatening… destroys to it step bodies, minds, dignities, futures… the worst thing of the case is that they use me, you know? to ignite their pipes loaded with chemical drugs.

The Fire

Voices that Accompany - Gibran Jalil Gibran

noreply@blogger.com (Sofia Rhoda) — Mon, 13 Jul 2009 02:13:00 +0000

Before my soul spoke to me, in my heart the love was like a thin cord fit between two pins, but now the love has been transformed into a veil I pull ahead which beginning is its end and which end is its beginning. It surrounds to all the beings and one spreads slowly until embracing everything what exists. My soul warned to me and it made me perceive the hidden beauty of the skin, the form and the shade. Before my soul advised to me, for me the beauty was a trembly torch between smoke columns. Now that it has vanished I do not see the smoke...but the flame.

Gibran Jalil Gibran

The Femenine

noreply@blogger.com (Sofia Rhoda) — Wed, 08 Jul 2009 14:33:00 +0000

Long ago, like the empirical medicine woman she was…she heard about three women of the antiquity, and other two who where even before these ones. The Feminine Goddess… daughter of the Sun and the Moon… Mother of the fire and the air….she is the mother part of the Soul… who has been also in the creation of the universes. The mother Water… who represents the sustenance, the light, the cleaning….the life. The Water and the Fire… the Earth parents.

Here, Martha represents the generosity… sustenance and fertility… she is the mother Earth . Maria represents the virtue, the angelical, the whole and the nothing… is the Sky and the heavens. Magdalena represents desires here, the dissatisfaction, the emptiness… is the Body. Sophia...is the combination of all of them...to succeed in this world...

Sophia...here, represents, the femenine wisdom.

Poetry and Phillosophy

noreply@blogger.com (Sofia Rhoda) — Tue, 30 Jun 2009 13:50:00 +0000

In all the human cultures, we found a tendency to express the knowledge by means of a language had with beautiful forms, that constitutes the poetry. This one has as fundamental preoccupation the harmony of the expressed forms, whereas the philosophy tries to explain the essence of the things by its causes. A poet, expresses the truth more when he is authentic, but than to go exclusively to the race, does to the intuition and the feeling, approaching the truth of a general feeling in the human being… received in intuition sparks and moving fibers of our feelings. Therefore, an express poet of shining way his knowledge and feelings through his poetry, and not only those of him, but such feelings and thoughts of the people who have seen, and of a whole town in if, its ideals, failures, their fears and so that not to say it, reflects the idea that they have of themselves, of the world and the divinity. A clear example we found it in the Hispanic cultures, in which a interpolación notices of which properly it constitutes the philosophical knowledge, since it is expressed through literary forms, very elaborated and refined in which we discovered a song or poem that contains in himself the intuitions of the thinker, but whose truth frequently weakens the same essence of the thought to give preference to the expression of its beauty. As well as Profetas and Celtas hacian. The poetry we framed it within the Literature that like all human testimony and no more abundant shooting of facts, contains data on events, the historical slight knowledge, data, the most precious indications on our “inner dwellings”, since it represents the most exact manifestation of the phenomena of deep conscience. Literature, with all its beauty, can and must be mentioned before the court of history or the right, like a testimony of the philosopher, body of experimentation, of the wise person. Thus we found, for example: A conception of History in the Greek Iliad, an outline of marine Geography in the Odyssey, the relation of Meteorology and Agriculture in Hesiod, Dante the Cosmography of its time, the national idea in the Poem of the Mine Cid, the theory of the honor in Lope de Vega and Calderón de la Barca, Chemistry in Aldous Huxley, and because to discard it, the Nahuatl thought in its “Flower and Song”.
For the Nahuatl thinker, the firmest way to approach the knowledge of the truth is through the “Flower and Song”, that is, in the observation of the natural forms like harmonious essential expression of life and beyond. For that reason, for the Nahuatl man, the poet is also, a possessor of the truth.

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