Long Fire Poems
Long Fire Poems. Below are the most popular long Fire by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Fire poems by poem length and keyword.
Draped trees, etched in crimson fire,
Sun’s last kiss, as day retires.
Scattered clouds, in dazzling dress,
Raindrops hang, a jeweled caress.
Rainbow’s Bridge, across the blue,
Violet-green, and reds anew,
Sahara’s winds, a whispered sigh,
Hot sand dances underneath a fiery sky.
Snowy peaks, in crystal light,
Flakes like stars, taking flight,
Frozen frost, upon the pane
Winter breathes, a chilling reign.
Warm mist rises, soft and slow,
Kissing earth, a whispered flow,
Fog ascends, a silent shroud,
Nature’s secrets whispered loudly.
Hailstones ping, like needles fine,
Tiny tines, a silver wine.
Thunder cracks, a lightning’s tear,
Gray skies weep, the winds hold fear.
Hurricanes, with winds that moan,
Ocean’s wrath, upon the stone.
Trees uprooted, in twisting dance,
Twister’s fury, given a chance.
This silhouette is a stage so grand,
Nature’s drama is close at hand.
From fiery dawn to frozen night
Her beauty is vast, her power, bright.
So let us stand in awe, and humbly see,
The silhouette of nature, wild and free
Lonesome Zareba has one dream left to live for,
but too often it escapes through her open door
and as the transparent clouds of September,
her sad eyes are their mirror while she touches her hair.
Oh, she has big eyes as admirable as the Fall serene sky that grows brighter!
Each noon, on a sea-washed monolith she watches seagulls emitting loud shrills;
" Bounty " is beautiful word she has learned from wondrous Nature,
but human love she desperately desires to feel again her man's hot lips!
Her hovel has a hearth where she bakes bread in semi-dark,
and while fire crackles Zareba sees stars...dreaming at night;
for every star she counts, a seashell is put away in that moon-lit cave...
hoping that the man she loves is still alive, not laid in an unmarked grave!
It's the beginning of another spring and she thinks of her distant love;
snow has been replaced by dainty flowers and Zareba can sense that something
wonderful is going to happen, and as she hears the heavy footsteps approaching...
a slim, tall man runs towards her shouting, " Darling, I'm finally home! "
Poet's note:
A dream came true for my next door neighbor, a Russian lady, who told me this story when she lived in a hut by a lonely shore, and yearning for her husband's return from war, she thought she had one dream left to live for. After two long years the war ended, and her husband returned home. I have used Zareba as her name to be qualified for this contest.
Celebration of Wind and Fire
Celebrate the unseen face of God’s eternal Spirit
Embracing all before creating light;
Action word of the eternal dance
Hovering over the chaotic genesis of creation;
Leading exiles out of exile through empty seas with fiery pillars
Feeding wanderers hungry for heavenly bread at dawn;
A living shadow pushing away the shadow of separation
Planting salvation’s seed deep within the sanctuary of a young girl’s yes;
Wearing the face of a dove descending on the Word
Leading anointed redemption into the empty desert place of prayer;
Driving wind and flames arriving on a festival morning
When fearful souls stood up to speak the languages of the world gathered;
Raising up a new tower of adoration reaching Heaven’s ears
Uniting with eternal words no longer babbling;
A fire, that never burns, burns through dust of days long past and now
Still hovering, descending, overshadowing, and dancing;
A sacred nudge delighting in coincidence
Filling up the thirst that gnaws for serendipity in surprises;
Inspiration birthed by the invisible hand of holy mischief
Inviting ambivalent, wavering, steps to roads of rightness in quiet whispers;
Lowering mountains, preparing highways now made straight,
For pilgrim’s feet gathering flowers in wild wastelands;
Caressing, prodding, in moments of a-ha ever evolving -
Timeless mentor of universal innovation;
Handiwork of the restless holy leaping up in wild fire
When old hearts dream dreams and young eyes see visions;
Laughing, dancing divine whimsy pirouetting through stars and galaxies
Never the same when touched by the Spirit dancing.
12/2/19
Original Contest: Holy Spirit
Chantelle Anne Cooke
Thank you Lord
Thinking back upon my life
When days were ever so bleak
When nothing seemed to turn out right
I was desperate and so weak
Then you came along and helped me out
You pulled me out of the fire
And I thank you…Oh Lord
For saving my life
Chorus
I want to thank you Lord,
For always being there
Through the bad times and the good
I want to thank you Lord,
For all you’ve given me
It’s undeserved… it’s understood
There were times in my life
The world had beaten me down
I never seemed to catch a break
But, you’d always come around
You’d always be there to lend a hand
You pulled me out of the mire
And I thank you…Oh Lord
I’ll give you my life
Chorus
I want to thank you Lord,
For always being there
Through the bad times and the good
I want to thank you Lord,
For all you’ve given me
It’s undeserved… it’s understood
Through all my tragedies
You showed you cared for me
Through my mistakes and maladies
You saw the good in me
You’ve been with me through all my trials
In my time of need
You carried me the final mile
You are a friend in deed
Chorus
I want to thank you Lord,
For always being there
Through the bad times and the good
I want to thank you Lord,
For all you’ve given me
It’s undeserved… it’s understood
And I’ll thank you…Oh Lord
All through my life
And I’ll thank you…Oh Lord
All through my life
John Derek Hamilton
Copyright August 18,2018
Finished with music and vocal July17,2025
Posted August 6,2025
You know, I thought changing one’s job would be easy,
To start a new vocation would be breezy.
I got me local newspaper, looking for a job as a sparky, (electrician)
But I said “what the F-ck, these ads were written by a sarky.”
The first job was an “Almond Knocker,”
Now this sounds as sleazy as sniffing used jockstraps in a locker.
Who wants to look for an almond the shape of a woman’s top half of her anatomy,
But, looking at women’s breast to find one that looks like an almond, appeals to me.
The second job was a “Blind Hooker,”
Now what can I say, that’s a woman’s job and boy she’ll have to be a looker.
She would be the cheapest thrill you’d ever have
You can imagine the police chasing her as she is lead by her all eye seeing sat nav.
Nope not for me…
Uuhh! Here’s one for me, “Bosom Presser”
Squeeeezing them breasts from the largest to the lesser.
I gave them a call straight away
Only to find out the job was not really that way
Dam!
The next one was, what the f-ck? a “Dike Stoneman”
Well I don’t think any man can
This must be a woman bouncer for a happy club ( I hope this is more politically
correct than saying “Gay”)
The one you greet say “Hey Bud”
Well later I googled the titles and yes you right, I was wrong,
I suppose me old job will be lifelong
Overworked, under paid
Oversexed under laid
Here are a few more jobs I came across, an “Egg Smeller, Chicken Sexer, Pillow Girl
:-) , Butt maker, , Fire Drier (never heard of wet fire) and for all you animal lovers out
there, Frog Shaker, Monkey Tail Puller and those who don’t change their underwear,
a Skid Marker
Hatism: My Beloved Crown
Before I speak, you have already introduced me. You brought me from the back pew, to the front row. You taught me how to be her, you set me free. I'm proud of who I have become and what others see.
You sit where destiny rests-high, intentional, and ordained. You are not fabric, material or form alone; you are positioning. When I place you upon my head, something within me stands taller. My posture obeys you, my heart embraces you, my voice remembers you, my mind submits to you, and my soul answers you. You have learned my hopes, secrets, and dreams. You cradled all of my secrets, and unspoken utternaces privately in your heart. You have learned the architecture of my mind, soul, and confidence.
You have mastered my angles-every tilt a language, every smile confidence, and every shadow a statement. Rooms shifted and adjusted when we walked in together. Not because you are loud, but because you are certain. I love you for the quiet authority you carry, that does not beg to be seen-but is seen.
I trusted you, and you have covered me in moments when words were unnecessary. When I doubted, you remained steady. When I was afraid, you stayed close to me. When I rose, you rose with me. Oil and elegance, fire and focus-you held them all without collapse. You remind me that elevation is a decision made daily. That obsession, when disciplined, becomes excellence. That a woman crowned in intention cannot walk unnoticed. Some wear hats, I wear alignment.
So I honor you-not as an accessory, but as an extension. Not as fashion, but as formation. Not as a style, but as a symbol.
Forever tilted in authority,
Yours in Elevation
Farewell, false love, the
oracle of lies,
A mortal foe and enemy to
rest,
An envious girl, from whom
all cares arise,
a beast with rage
possessed,
A way of error, a temple full
of treason,
In all effects contrary unto
reason.
A poisoned serpent covered
all with flowers,
Mother of sighs, and
murderer of repose,
A sea of sorrows whence
are drawn such showers
As moisture lend to every
grief that grows;
A school of guile, a net of
deep deceit,
A gilded hook that holds a
poisoned bait.
A fortress foiled, which
reason did defend,
A siren song, a fever of the
mind,
A maze wherein affection
finds no end,
A raging cloud that runs
before the wind,
A substance like the
shadow of the sun,
A goal of grief for which the
wisest run.
A quenchless fire, a nurse
of trembling fear,
A path that leads to peril
and mishap,
A true retreat of sorrow and
despair,
An idle girl that sleeps in
pleasure's lap,
A deep mistrust of that
which certain seems,
A hope of that which reason
doubtful deems.
Sith then thy trains my
younger years betrayed,
And for my faith ingratitude
I find;
And sith repentance hath
my wrongs bewrayed,
Whose course was ever
contrary to kind:
False love, desire, and
beauty frail, adieu.
Dead is the root whence all
these fancies grew.
With no arms and legs, pill escapes are hard
They all look the same inside their bottles
Like prisoners shaved bald at executions
Like new recruits, army jar head bald
Pills all look alike to their consumers
Swallowed down with no remorse
They don't read labels, don't know their fate
Once in a while one falls on the floor
Rolls away under the bed, plays dead
Never seen again
Then fire comes after a time
Consumes rooms, burns down houses
Storms follow, turns into floods
Breaks homes apart
Flows down the river with them gone
Pills in bottles go down as well
Bob up and down on swift currents
Avoid being taken again with water
Protected, sealed, warning labels revealed
Wanting only to remain dry inside
Freed to enter Mexico without visas
Illegals in bottles and jars
Breeding and marrying jumping beans
To make families from multicolored ingredients
Baby tablets, capsules and sainted aspirins
Pills hate people with medical conditions
You will never catch them with a cold
Or with dreaded sickos who swallow them whole
(While escaping, pill boxes keep them from sneezing)
Could it be
That we will never be?
It cannot be
That we played with fire
Without playing the lyre
Could it be
That you are a liar?
Ready to jump into the pyre
My heart does bleed
And plead
For Mercy
I am Capricious
Even Luscious
In your bed
Always coloured red
Yet
You abutted
Never Pretentious
I am Anxious
Could it be
That you do not agree?
With my Faith
What would become of me
Should you let me be?
Without my Side
You will truly Hide
Your eternal Pain
In Vain.
Written in 2011
This is my first poem on PS. I started with this one. I love it as it made of me a poet, appreciated by a poetry community. Though now, I have learnt to love myself as well as the skies. Love can be about understanding and patience rather than despair.
I came with hands unclenched and heart awake,
To serve, to teach—for hope and learning’s sake.
I walked among the young with humble aim,
Yet found the fire I brought met not the same.
The gate was open, but the welcome thin,
The smiles spoke less than what stirred within.
Cold winds blew from those I stood beside,
While silence grew where trust should have replied.
A voice once steady, eager to be heard,
Was hushed before it could speak a word.
When conflict came, no room was made
For truth to rise, or wrongs to be weighed.
And though I planned with care and grace,
My work was brushed aside—no face
To meet me in the sacred space
Where teachers grow through mutual grace.
No tools in hand, yet still I gave
Each spark I had, each hour I saved.
Not for praise, but for the child
Whose mind could bloom though skies were wild.
Yet in this path, my spirit sees
The weight of walking without peace.
No anger now—just light and rain,
The lessons etched through silent pain.
Let this goodbye be soft and clean,
No bitter roots, no twisted scene.
The kindness shown by hearts sincere
Will stay with me, and persevere.
So here I part, with humble grace,
No blame to cast, no final case.
Only a prayer—that all may grow
In kinder soil than I did know.