Long Campfire Poems
Long Campfire Poems. Below are the most popular long Campfire by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Campfire poems by poem length and keyword.
Wailing, screaming, and keening were things I was not
familiar with, until I got the shingles in a very tender place.
Then they became my go-to-noises. My husband had to wear
headphones, because it was so loud, so guttural and horrific.
He could not take it, and frankly, neither could I. I had never made
these sounds before, I did not know I could, but I did.
I have new medicine that means I no longer wail or scream.
Weirdly, I am also no longer able to stand upright and walk without
almost falling down. I am not alarmed because I had twelve
kinds of pills before a doctor prescribed something that kept me from
spending my whole day screaming, wailing, and keening, begging for death.
I am now stumbling around in a fog, but falling back into bed is better than what I had been doing for the past seventeen days.
Every once in a while it feels like a tiny devil with a pitchfork puts gasoline on
it, and lights it with a campfire and shoves it up my right hip,
This is preferable to the fifteen minute intervals it had been
happening for seventeen days in a row. These new meds are
keeping me down, because I am afraid to get up, but I am
snoring in a very comfortable deep sleep, which is so preferable
to running around screaming, shrieking, wailing and bawling louder
than I have ever bawled in my life.
I am a rag doll, only wincing in pain once in a great while rather than
every ten minutes. I am understanding drug addicts much better now;
maybe they started out just wanting their pain to stop. I had no idea what
level of pain a person could endure before this affliction grabbed me and stabbed me and burned me and kept me keening, wailing, and screaming. I believe I will be better at my job now, more empathetic, and less judgemental toward people who wisely decide to reduce their pain.
You were a beautiful summer campfire.
The kind that draws you in with its warmth,
makes the night feel less lonely,
makes you want to sit a little closer.
So I did.
At first, I didn't mind the sting.
The warmth was too comforting,
too familiar,
too beautiful to walk away from.
But eventually, the warmth became a sear.
The comfort became pain.
And I realized I had been standing so close to the fire
that I couldn't feel myself burning anymore.
You were once the fire that kept me warm.
Until I realized
I was sacrificing myself just to stay close to you.
And maybe that's the hardest lesson,
don't keep reaching for the fire that burns you
just because you remember how warm it used to be.
Sometimes loving yourself means
stepping away from the warmth
before it becomes ash.
She is often asked for the secret to happiness…
Her answer comes as a surprise…
for she always tells the story
of her daughter
and the fireflies.
“My daughter used to chase fireflies out on our front lawn
back and forth she’d pursue them…as their lights blinked off and on.”
“She’d turn this way and that way, she’d walk, she’d hop, she’d run.
She was great at chasing fireflies…but she never caught a one.”
“Then one night around the campfire…after she had given up the chase
a firefly landed on her arm and a smile lit up her face.”
“Look Momma!” she said look at my arm…look…look…can you see?
I wonder if all the time I was chasing fireflies…they were chasing me?”
“And it wasn’t until she stopped chasing fireflies”, the old woman said
her face now beaming bright
“That she found the happiness that eluded her…
only then did she catch the light”.
People who have heard her tell this story
speak of how her cheeks turn rosy and a gleam comes to her eyes
as she smiles telling the story
of her daughter…
and the fireflies.
An unhurried sun slides across the horizon
Preparing for slumber behind distant waves
And daylight’s last seagull rides thermals in search
Of a late night fish supper - the herring he craves
A paint shop explosion enlivens the skies
As the sun doffs its cap to the tail end of day
That silhouette seagull, against crimson, flys
Before finally veering and heading away
As one with the beach and the shoreline beyond
I watch vibrant heavens succumb
To a darkness profound although I stick around
And I wait for tomorrow to come
The night has its chills but no hectic-life ills
As I feed my small campfire with sticks
One deck chair, one fire is all I desire…
And a thermos for my caffeine fix
There’s no moon, no stars and there’s no beachfront bars
The surf is my soundtrack tonight
I’ve seen moons and stars work with Venus and Mars
To set all above me alight
But tonight is unpainted and I get acquainted
With shadows that flicker and prance
As I recline there, amused, I’m aware
That the fire makes my own shadow dance
I don’t truly doze and a distant bell knows
That I count off its chimes in the night
And as the world sleeps, somewhere near, a bird cheeps
And I know that it soon will be light
I’ll witness the day and then scurry away
Through the hustle and bustle, to bed
Inspired, I’m rewired, and yet, rather tired
With my first chapter clear in my head
My thermos delivers one last warming cup
As a new dawn blue-rinses the grey
A seagull, perhaps who went last night unfed
Circles early for breakfast today
I do not know if I should tell you the tale of the persistent ghost
But since it is a campfire, how could I not? Being the good host.
It is spooky and creepy, and might make you scream at the end.
Okay. I can tell already you need to cuddle, so find a good friend.
Are you ready for the tale? Promise you will not be scared to death.
Go get a blanket and a pillow. It’s a long one, told to me by Auntie Meth.
Yes, of course it is real. It happened to her in the weird house she lives in.
She is not the only one who told me. I also heard it from Ethy, her twin.
They were having a séance in the attic on a spooky stormy night.
Luckily they had brought up matches and candles for some extra light.
Shutters of the attic slammed shut, and then they heard heavy breathing.
My uncle who had bragged about his bravery was last seen quickly leaving.
We knew something weird was in the room with us, my Auntie Meth told me.
Ethy felt it first, because she is as psychic and clairvoyant as can be.
She sees spirits, smells them, and sometimes hear them speak her name.
I was starting to quiver as they told me this, for I can secretly do the same.
My teeth were chattering as the tale was unfurled by my Aunt so witless.
Picturing that dastardly, dreadful, dark attic that always scared me spotless.
Are you okay? She faked concern to fool the other kids who were there.
The truth is she could be a fierce, mean, ugly aunt, who truly did not care.
I nodded my head and tried to stop shaking as she explained about the light.
The lights went out and we were all stuck in that attic feeling such a fright.
An unexpected crawly thing went up my left arm and I let out a huge scream.
Everyone else screamed. We heard a strange voice, and this was not a dream.
I’m so lonesome I could cry
Cry for the pup lost from the pack
He’s gotta find comfort in winter
I’m so lonesome feeling disconnected
Cold comfort, but bees have a hive
Everything is interconnected
I’m so lonesome like Pluto
But, the dwarf has moons to comfort
Loneliness stretches space and time
I’m so lonesome tv is a cheap comfort
It’s a Platonic shadow play anyway
Better to stare at the wall
I’m so lonesome I’m proud of it
Let go of tribal feasts and embrace GrubHub
Stretch family ties across the globe
I’m so lonesome because of tech
Amazon will deliver and there is Zoom
But, I miss the days by the campfire
I’m so lonesome like Mars
The god of war needs a moon
I tell him he’s a moon to the sun
I’m so lonesome I cannot see
The invisible ties that bind
I remember I am blind to love
I’m so lonesome I cannot feel
The skin needs an epidermis to hold
Yet I touch grass and my cats
I’m so lonesome death needs comfort
It calls to me for a spot of tea
I see you everywhere holding a mug
I’m so lonesome it’s lost meaning
The voices in my head are giving up
Finally, I can be a lone wolf
I’m so lonely when no love is home
What about those who wait for no one?
There the day and night keep us
There is nothing quite as beautiful….
(If you’ve ever done it…then you know)
than planting a seed in your garden…
and being blessed to watch it grow….
And:
There is nothing quite as beautiful
(Again…if you’ve ever done it…then you know)
than planting the seed of a family
and being blessed to watch it grow.
There’s nothing quite as beautiful
(If you’ve ever done it…then you know)
Than lighting the first sticks of a campfire
and being blessed to watch that fire grow…
And:
And there is nothing quite as beautiful
(Again If you’ve ever done it…then you know)
Than lighting the fire of love under your family
and being blessed to watch your family grow.
I believe in warmth
the comforting embrace of a loved one
crackling campfire on a January night
the smile of one who knows you're here to stay
it's been a long, cold lonely winter
I believe in hope
faith is the assurance of things hoped for
the certainty of what we do not see
I don't see it, but I know it's coming
it feels like years since it's been here
I believe in love
the tide that lifts all boats
the surprise gift
the compassionate ear that truly listens
the smiles returning to the faces
I believe in light
and the One who said, "let there be light"
the true light that gives light
empress of the night reflecting glory of the daystar
it seems like years since it's been clear
I believe in song
we sang to the moon last night as she rose:
"Shine On, Harvest Moon", "Moonshadow",
"By the Light of the Silvery Moon".
Little darling, it's all right
We sing again in chill of daybreak
with the roseate glow of realized anticipation…
"Here Comes the Sun"
// The song "Here Comes the Sun" by the Beatles has been my favorite song as long as I can remember, for its simple message of hope, light, warmth, and love. It was the song my daughter chose to have played just before we walked the aisle on her wedding day, a very special moment for me. //
As we sat around a campfire with most of our family near
we reflected on the changes we’ve all been through this year.
An engagement, a wedding planned, Amy starting a business of her own…
A new job, a drivers license, a lot of trips…how we all have grown
Then we did what families do when they gather as everyone gets a little older…
we sat around…we talked…we laughed…shoulder…to shoulder…to shoulder.
As I watched the faces of my family radiating in the fire light…enjoying the fire’s heat
I thought how sitting around a campfire is a perfect place for a family to meet.
How a family and a campfire have many traits they share…
How the basic framework of both are created with great care.
How you try to make both perfect…get everything just right…
so once you light the fire…it will burn long into the night.
How every flame in a fire, like every member of a family, starts out hesitant and slow
How both need to be fed and nurtured if they ever are to grow.
How each member of the family shines with their own unique and individual flame…
How no two fires, like no two families, will ever be the same.
How sometimes one flame, one family member, will burn a little brighter…
but how we also know…
soon another flame…another family member will have their turn to glow.
How there comes a time when you are older
when you sit back thinking you built this fire right…
how every flame…every family member…is burning long into the night.
And across the flames your family members know that look…
know there’s no need to inquire
as to why the smile on your face
shines even brighter than the fire.
I am now "away from the noise,"
my fruit gum I am chewing.
Sitting here wondering what the boys,
could be doing.
Now all unpacked,
a book I will read.
Need to use bug spray before I am attacked,
Oh no I do not want to bleed.
All "satisfied and alone,"
I thought this trip would be more fun.
The rain has me chilled to the bone,
maybe I am done.
Campfire cologne will always stay,
since I used an orange can of bear spray.