Long Fireplace Poems
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Its off to grandma's old fashion cottage we go;
past snow covered pine trees all in a row.
To her humble abode adorned in holiday charm,
And two grey horses inside the red painted barn.
Inside a crackling fire warming- nothing to compare.
With flickering flames dancing with flair,
Mesmerizing grandpa with a hypnotic spell.
And up the chimney smoke bid's farewell.
Grandma's cooking in her colorful blouse
the smell of baked bread drifts about the house,
And Grandpa snoring, asleep in his comfy old chair
in a plaid shirt and head with no hair.
Outside freshly fallen snow- a winter wonderland,
With frolicking young children mittens on hands
playing with vigor on freshly fallen snow
Their rosy red cheeks fully aglow.
Carolers singing along the snow covered street
each one adorned with a smile to greet
With sleigh bells jingling
and people joyously singing.
The aroma of roasted chestnuts swirls in the frosty air
On Maple street near the town square.
The White Chapel's steeple reaching toward the sky
A glorious symbol to the faithful eye.
Inside the tiny White Chapel with lights burn bright
a beacon to the world on this most glorious of nights.
Inside rich harmonious voices with glory to sing
As flying wild geese with the moon on their wings.
The parson adorned in modest vestment
As the choir sings- a worthy testament
Outside its silent, still and calm
Inside the congregation seeks the Savior's healing balm.
Cheerful hearts gratitude they bring
patiently waiting to celebrate the birth of their king.
For it came upon a mid night clear
as their voices raise for the Lord to hear.
Inside grandma's cottage on this snowy Christmas Eve
snuggled warmly asleep in their bed
waiting for Santa's with presents filled in his sled.
Billy, Tommy, Freddy and Steve
Next to the fireplace for Santa to find.
A glass of warm milk and cookies to dine.
Upstairs Sally and Sue unable to sleep
waiting for Santa to get a sneak peek.
Christmas Tree lights blink with a fury
the children wanting Santa to hurry
And mom and dad quietly sitting
Grandma in her rocker quietly knitting.
Decorated stockings hung with care from the fireplace
Sally’s and grandpa's adored with red and white lace
photos of grandchildren that grew up too fast
Grandmother's cottage with memories of Christmases past.
It’s Christmas Eve; there’s someone at my door!
But with the horrid sound outside my window,
I wonder who is knocking and what for!
Midst violent wind I see a surreal snow!
Within it’s haze, there is a grotesque sight -
gigantic and so out of place, I quiver!
A snowman leers at me, and frigid fright
goes through my bloodstream like an icy river.
Again, the knock! Whoever could it be?
This morning I wished Christmas would be gone!
A premonition now is telling me
that nothing good is out there on my lawn.
My friend had warned me that I really ought
not curse this season. Oh, what have I done?
More pounding at the door, but I cannot
go near that door; there’s nowhere I can run.
I look out at the snowman. He is more
enormous than a tree, and now I hear
a sound like laughing elves outside the door.
I stand as thought I’m paralyzed by fear.
That movie! There’s a movie I heard of.
A boy hates Christmas, wishing it away.
A storm brews suddenly in skies above,
heralding a deadly Christmas day.
A Shadow Santa comes. This wicked soul
is known as Krampus, and he brings with him
an evil that can swallow people whole.
If I have summoned him, my fate is grim.
The storm keeps wailing; now there’s a new sound
of scratching on my roof, but there is no
more knocking. Oh, who’s walking all around
my roof? I run out to the blinding snow!
At first I can see nothing till my eyes
are drawn to where a great big bag was put
beside my door. What’s this? More Santa lies?
Though filled with dread, I push it with my foot.
There jumps out from the bag the strangest thing -
A tiny man; he’s made of gingerbread!
He laughs maliciously, and starts to sing,
“Before the night is over, you’ll be dead.”
Out on my lawn, I see beneath the snow
there’s something creeping fast and right toward me!
What creature slithers underneath the snow?
I can’t escape, so back inside I go!
I shut the door and bolt it, then collapse
Upon my sofa near the fireplace, when
I hear an eerie sound above. It taps,
taps, taps. It’s something on the roof again!
Past Christmases with family go through
my frantic mind; I cower there and wait.
It’s Krampus, and he’s up there in the flue,
and soon to be delivering my fate!
Written Dec. 24, 2015/ Inspired by the contest of TAMMY REAMS
and the current Christmas horror movie Krampus.
Bundled in a horse-drawn sleigh
warm and snug on Thanksgiving Day
the children restless, we went on our way
as the shedding forest began to sway
and the gusts of wind set astray
the vestiges of autumn's display
that unveiled the cabins along the bay
Past weathered barns fraught with snow
and over covered bridges would we go
through the misty river's chill
turning toward the cider mill
its churning paddles frozen still
past the farmsteads and withered fields
the ghosts of bounty that harvest yields
caught in a breeze of burning leaves
and all the reveries the season weaves
We arrived on main street after sundown
gliding through the charming town
toward the chiming white church steeple
past the storefronts curbed with people
in the wake of the gingerbread float
at the stern of the Pilgrim's boat
behind fairy tales and candy lands
as the revelers sang with clapping hands
to the music of the marching bands
From the celebration would we emerge
from the flowery, spangled surge
to behold a wondrous sight
as geese took flight into the night
over the sea where moonlight sought
to quell the hues that twilight wrought
Frosted lamp posts lit our course
and into a trot sprang our horse
his hooves and harness jingling bells
as if to the tunes of sweet noels
while from the shops whose cozy glow
projected windows on the snow
there flashed the goods someone will leave
under a tree late Christmas Eve
the toys and clothes wrapped in bows
and all the gifts that a stocking stows
Now past chimney smoke and picket fences
nostalgic aspects that stir the senses
where old Victorian silhouettes are found
and gestures of goodwill abound
toward the sound of waves we wound
as our lanterns flickered on the ground
the atmosphere around us festive
while within full and restive
or nestled by the fireplace
or with their heads bowed in grace
folks enjoyed a simple pace
while outside others strolled about
amid the maize and wreaths throughout
absorbed in a twinkling universe
of colors snow-clad and diverse
To our delight there soon arose
a savory ambience for the nose
adrift from tables set with care
with a redolence that met the air
as we hailed the last of passersby
and climbed the road into a sky
whose stars adorned the snowy limbs
to a house on the coast, flowing with hymns
There lived an old lady
On Widegulley Street
Who owned a black cat
With little white feet.
One Halloween night,
She formed a cute plan
To dip the cat’s feet
In black paint in a pan.
With her fully black cat
Tucked under her arm,
She dressed as a witch,
Complete with some charms.
Out on her porch
She stood waiting to greet
All the girls and boys
Who’d soon come trick-or-treat.
From the old lady’s hands,
The cat wiggled free,
And fell to the ground,
Then took off down the street.
The cat sped on down
Towards the end of the road,
And on towards three boys
Exiting their abode.
The three boys were leaving
To go trick-or-treat
When they heard the patter
Of the cat’s little feet.
All three in the group
Were all superstitious,
So when they saw the cat,
They treated him vicious.
The three boys chased him
And tugged on his tail.
They grabbed him and caught him,
And drug him to the well.
They aimed to get rid
Of this “evil” black cat
By having one boy
Throw it in with the bats.
Before reaching the well,
The cat scratched the kid’s arm,
And the boy then dropped it
In fear of more harm.
The cat fled to a tree
Where it ran up it quickly.
All three boys followed,
And looked up at him sickly.
One of the boys
Began up the oak,
But he picked a wrong branch
That was too thin and broke.
He fell to the ground
Right on his behind
Then the cat leaped on down
And shot to the curbside.
The second boy bolted after
On the soft, squishy ground
Still wet from the rain
With puddles all ‘round.
He tripped on a root
And tumbled on down
Face down in a puddle
And came up with a frown.
The last child watched
As the cat hurried on.
Its feet splashed in a puddle
And the black paint was gone.
The young boy realized
They’d wasted their time.
Their night was near gone now
Because of their crime.
The cat scuttered home
And up to his keeper,
Where she picked him up
And treated him sweeter.
She took him inside
And placed him in the floor,
Then sat down with him
After closing the door.
In front of the fireplace,
They both stayed and rested,
Because on that night,
Their fear had been tested.
She was glad the cat was home,
And he was glad to be there.
Next Halloween night,
Both of them would beware.
4/14/2018
My shy moth eyes
were attracted to the beauty of your flame
The pleasure of knowing you
was worth the risk of me feeling the pain
From the hurt burn of you leaving ...
a house of mirrors with no image of you within
I always knew this day would come,
certain, like the rising of the sun —
Beautiful rabbit you would wanna run
Timid, nervous ever ready to flee
The mirror of reflection
would always set your fear in motion
Numbed by the booze,
paralyzed by the pills
Gave you enough courage to stay still ...
but, only for so long
Beautiful rabbit on the run,
afraid to face
the demons you’re running from
When the face of reality would sober in,
then the cracked mirrors
would leave your bleeding heart sobbing
So many lovers before me
handed you jilted tissues
for your self-esteem issue tears
Wiping the candle mask of your promiscuity,
cold wax let you know when it was time to flee
Beautiful rabbit you on the run,
wielding your body like a weapon
Beautiful rabbit giving the foxy bullet stun,
using love like it was a loaded gun
Beautiful rabbit on the run,
marred habits has disfigured you
Ugly memories you can’t let go of,
scarred flesh melted by an abusive flame
Leaves you often holding a gun,
ready to make your last rabbit run
Beautiful rabbit, don’t run ...
beautiful rabbit lay down the gun
It was the loss of your gorgeous butterfly wings,
which so attracted me to you
I saw the beauty inside others never knew,
the vulnerable side you kept hidden from view
The trauma of your lovers no longer wanting you,
made the truth of the silent phone too painful to hear
And the vanity of rejection you use to give,
is the emptiness you are now forced to live with
Lonely, emotional catacombs you weepingly prefer;
the Before portrait on your wall, I never saw her
Tragic soul went bed-hopping down the rabbit hole
Beautiful rabbit, don’t run ...
beautiful rabbit put down the gun
Beautiful rabbit, I desperately desire you,
let your marred heart be warmed by this truth
Beautiful rabbit, don’t run ...
finger the safety between my loving arms
Beautiful rabbit, don’t leave this way ...
burn the suicide note in the fireplace
Beautiful rabbit, don’t run away
Stay here with me ... please stay
the rest of your enchanted cottage days
Misshapen limbs of the Palo Verde trees add an artistic touch to the landscape. While
Honeysuckle twine about the old rail fence and the spiny Ocotillo flash scarlet plumes.
Mesquite trees, older than the homestead, reach out and cast much appreciated shade.
Saguaro's flank the hard packed drive. Desert poppies lead the way to the home.
Built of stone. Hand laid by calloused hands. Topped with thick rough hewned timbers
and clay tiles. The home welcomes all.
Windows sparkle in the late afternoon sun. Reflecting brilliance that hurts the eye.
Once inside, a coolness calms and refreshes. The native stone keeping the desert heat
at bay.
Beams hewn from the Mesquite adorn the ceiling. Stucco interior walls add a softness
and Spanish flavor.
Arched doorways lead to halls and bedrooms. Each with it's own distinctive fashion.
Soft beds with hand woven blankets. Each depicting a different Indian Spirit. Deep set
windows to let in the cool breeze of spring and fall. Thick draperies to block out the
summer heat and winter cold.
The kitchen, sparse and utilitarian. A soap stone sink, slate counters and open faced
cabinets. dried herbs, onions and peppers hang from hand forged hooks. As do the
pots and pans used to cook simple fare that fills the belly and warms the soul.
A blue speckled coffee pot with a chipped spout is always on the newfangled gas stove.
The old woodburner sit as before. Used in winter to warm the kitchen and bake the
daily bread.
A place of gathering, is the plank top table. With it's brightly colored cover and always
full cookie jar.
back in the main room is a beehive fireplace in the corner. It's bulbous form giving
character to the otherwise plain room. More exposed beams extol the strength and
longevity of the home. While wood and leather furniture offer comfort and rest.
Beautiful hand crafted wood cabinets and shelves hold antiques found on travels.
Shadow boxes hold arrowheads found on desert hikes. Pottery from the local tribes
finish out the decor.
Homes like this are becoming extinct. To find souls who appreciate it's honest design
and accept the happiness that simplicity can bring, is becoming rare. I am one of those
souls. My search is on going to find my place in The Valley Of The Sun.
Form:
I miss tugging on my snow suit and barely managing to button my purple winter coat over top of it
I miss the warmth of mittens and soft hats that covered my ears and made it hard to hear the howling wind
I miss the numbness that nipped my toes and fingers
I miss the soft crunch that would go off with every step I made underneath each boot
I miss making snowballs and building a fort to defend
I miss laying down and my hair getting covered in frost while I made an angel in the snow
I miss sledding down hills and feeling like for a moment I could fly
I miss the magical trees that lost their leaves and the ones that grew green and white
I miss the chilly air that was so frigid it ached to breathe but was refreshing all the same
I miss the soft flakes that danced down from the sky all wonderfully different
I miss the one giant cloud that meant more snow would be coming
I miss not having school and the joyous wake up from mom that it was canceled
I miss playing with my friends without having to worry about leaving them
I miss that first moment waking up when you run down stairs and see the world is covered in white powder
I miss watching the snow flakes fall at night piling up for the next day
I miss being called inside after a long day with a warm mug of cocoa waiting
I miss the knowledge that everything would be ok and happy just like the day had been
I miss being a kid where snow was the most magical thing and everything was simple
I miss my family and not being gone all the time and watching the snow together
I miss gathering around the fireplace and watching Christmas movies all together not a care in the world
I miss the magic of Santa Claus and trying to stay up late to catch him
I miss putting out milk and cookies and not knowing where they went
I miss being happy and not having to leave or worry about the future
I miss feeling and joy and just being able to hug my mom without sadness following me
I miss lighting the tree and hanging ornaments all while dancing with a Santa hat on my head
I miss matching pjs and Christmas photos with the dogs and hanging stockings
I miss winter real winter and I wish I knew where it went
I miss being happy and knowing that everything would be ok
I miss my family and
I miss happiness and
I miss snow
It started when I was a child
I was a kid with a gift
That no one understood or recognized
Instead of loved I was picked on and ostracized
However I blocked it all out
But little by Little its all coming back
Like layers of an onion
That held me tightly wrapped
Bits and pieces of my memory
That were hidden away in code
Deep within my mind a door was closed
I?ve reached in to remember because my life is now in jeopardy
All the emotional and sexual abuse that I closed off to survive
Has been staring at me sabotaging my life
This life is not what I have dreamed and I am dying inside
And if I don?t face the truth of what was done to me
Then I will surely become the monster that I despise
And as the tears bellow up
I again take another breath
Like soot in a fireplace and a hair ball in a cat
I cough up the toxic memories
As images flash through my mind
With my face in the toilet I begin to cry
My body begins to stiffen as nausea rises to the top
I then begin to wail from deep in my chest
It?s a hideous cry that sends chills down my spine
As I grit my teeth and hang on for dear life
A thought runs through my mind why.. why.. why.. why.
I?m tired of the black outs
I?m tired of the fear
I?m tired of the loneliness that have held me prisoner here
I?m tired of the pain and suffering that has come in my parents name
I?m tired of all the trauma and I?m tired of all the drama
I?m tired of the neglect that?s been perpetrated on my soul
Keep your hands off of me, keep your beliefs away from me
From all the mental abuse and all the negative remarks
And you still don?t see how you?ve damaged my sensitive heart
I?m tired of hearing all the denial
I?m tired of hearing how there is nothing wrong with you
I?m tired of you blaming everyone else but you
I?m tired of hearing how you hate this and you hate that
I?ve tried for years to heal this wound
But it seems to have spread to my nephew too
I don?t know what else to do
I even ruined my only serious relationship to get revenge
In my mind I justified their crime
From all the bad advice and all the dysfunctional decisions
And I thought I was reversing everything
When I vowed never to get married and have kids
But that sabotaging act has done me more damage
Down here,
is an abysmally dead world!
The sun shines at night while the moon
Illunates the busy day
Plane run on railway tracks and let the
Train fly up there in the sky
Ship have taken over the road and allows the vehicles to sail on oceans.
Our soldiers returned home joyfully and send their wives to the war front,
While they breast feed the babies at home.
People die of hunger seated before a banquet
A flower planted by the riverside die of drought.
Out there,
you do not dodge potholes, you only choose the one to enter.
Down here, water stick between our teeth,
Fishes run helter skelter into the forest,
The mountain minted into water as the streams flow into the deserts in horror;
And rivers rise above the skies for safety.
Stars descend to the grassland for cow's milk
The heavens are rented by the wild beast of underground.
To see a man of reputation here is like looking for a virgin lady in a brothel.
On this land
Mother taught us how to smile sitting beside a corpse,
How to cry when we see a man succeeding;
How to giggle watching the hell fall on us fiercely.
Watching here like a dry tongue
looking like shadows from old men,
Looking like a garage filled by slippers.
This land died yesterday
This land never gave us shards of new beginning,
She died leaving a quatrain walked out of it body,
It died owning wounds in our heart...
The day Nigeria died was the day we littered the skies with accusation fingers blaming the government of every fly that crossed our path.
She made our joy dissolved into shreds of sorrow. Lack. Pains. Calamities!
When you see a child sing in the fireplace,
he either sing of his lost mother or father or his only palm fruit.
Nigeria died in our hands and knees
Spelling this spit of fire from my sister's lip, the beneficient knowledge of dead show how illusion killed many of us.
The day Nigeria died, she died in our palms crying of her lost prestige.
Oh!
A country of glee!
Oh mother land! Oh father land!
We'll sing no more dirge at your grave
Those flowers shall we gather home
We've failed you and killed you looking at each other eyes to find the culprits.
Go well till we make you better by 2019.
Yours Poetically,
©John Chizoba Vincent
Remembered boy along these lines
Remembered roughness through our tough times
Remembered blue eyes with his laughing look
Remembering him reading me like an open book
I called him up the other day
With so many memories for me to say
I haven't spoke to him in over a year
And I can't remember from him my last tear
Remembered walks and remembered talks
Remembering his slyness just like a fox
Remembered our high school years with each other
Remembering the wrestling-match with me and his brother
Remembering old songs he used to dedicate to me
Remembering 7 long years of us smoking bomb tree
Remembering deep talks and the tears we have shared
Somewhere along the lines then were we the cutest pair
The pictures taken of him and I
Remembering nothing unasked or a why
Remembering bus rides down the 38
Remembering his love and never experiencing his hate
I remember calling him in front of my fireplace back at home
Remembering our plans that were once set in golden stone
I remember the years I spent by his side
Somehow hasn't completely yet died
I remember his smile and his familiar touch
Way back when I loved him so much
My pureness to him I chose once to give up
Back when we were just kids --- just little pups
But still throughout high school our love stood proud and tall
Taller and taller and taller than the Berlin Wall
Now years later he's back to reunite
Back as best friends --- never having to fight
But with him he's brought a new piece of him
For I see Sophie has scored her perfect 10
Back a bit taller and a bit wiser than before
Back into my life into my newly-opened doors
And it hurts more than it ever has before
It hurts over all over again on top of all my past sore
To see him with her is a blessing I do confess
But our strong past history is being a pest
I smile for him, I talk to him, I make him laugh
I released his true love from a contradicting, jaded, wrath
Back to his arms she is home once again
Watching my new best friend score his prize and win
I look at him now to the man he's become
And give her props because she's truly won
To see a smile across his gentle face
And to watch him set his everlasting champagne glass on a beautiful lace
Would make life worth all of the while
And make me happy to see his well-deserved, happy smile