Long Fireplace Poems
Long Fireplace Poems. Below are the most popular long Fireplace by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Fireplace poems by poem length and keyword.
Strategically set on a hill
Overlooking the meadow still
Pulchritudinous from the start
Beauty enough to capture one's heart
Stones were chosen with every care
Stones with colors very rare
All the framing was checked and placed
So there would be no mistake
High on the magnificent hill
Trees of the forest were milled
So each timber was sturdy and strong
To protect the occupants from any wrong
The inviting porch drew people in
Open and wide with pillows thin
Golden door of oak was made
Just the right touch, just the right shade
Inside the fireplace logically placed
Designed to warm each heart and face
Children came to live on the hill
Each child's personality brought a thrill
The hill is lonely now
There is room and too spare
It is said to weep at night
But still puts out its light
(Read Psalms 139:13-14;Jeremiah 1:4-5. Could this house be a metaphor)
Form:
Rosemary's Bed
Maylands Salvation Army, Girls' Home
I am in the entrance foyer of a large house.
The wood floor is highly polished.
There is a large stairway with a turned, wood bannister.
Dad is telling my three year old sister and me
that we must stay here because
he has to work and can't take care of us.
Mum has gone away somewhere.
THE MATRON takes our suitcases and *smiles* at us
instructs us to, "come with her".
Dad says, "he will come and visit us every Sunday".
I am taken to a dormitory and told which bed will be mine.
The bed on the other side of the fire place
belongs to Rosemary.
Our beds skirt, either side of a fireplace
that is midway along the wall, with rows
of beds on each side of it,
as well as opposite,
twenty beds in all.
At the end of the room is an alcove with a curved bay window.
There is a bed there, all by itself.
I can remember being so scared in this room.
The older girls told me, "there is a man with an elastic arm"
who lives on the roof
and, "he can reach down the chimney and grab you".
Although I didn't really believe it, a few nights later,
we were all woken by a piercing scream.
THE MATRON came down to investigate.
The girl who slept in the bay window bed, said,
" a man with a monkey's face" jumped on my bed.
THE MATRON searched everywhere inside and out -
we saw her flash light beam- out there in the darkness-
her report was, " it was nothing." -
probably one of the cats that lived in the wood pile.
I always had trouble sleeping after that
and after lights out -
although it was strictly forbidden -
I would creep across and climb
into Rosemary's bed.
Although her bed was an equal distance
from the fireplace as mine
the human warmth and contact made me feel safe
against unknown forces of the night.
I slept on the edge of nightmares until, finally
I left that place.
Suzanne Delaney
From- Rememberances of an 8 year Old.
For Frank H..... I recall.....Contest
Incessant rain fell like wet sheets.
Large wet drops and some hail
That bet upon the large, though thick windows.
Each drop a quiet thought in nature’s hand.
No one dared to venture into the streets.
Even sturdy umbrellas were useless
Considering the force of the wind
That blew all around the city blocks.
Outside it was like gelid frost,
But not inside where a fireplace spread heat.
They hugged each other for more warmth.
From the large windows, they studied the storm.
Rainwater flooded the streets.
Large rivulets gurgled into drains.
Who said rain falls mainly on the plain?*
Must have been a joke.
* From My Fair Lady.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sdu9M3CNJ4M
White snow begins to settle round the coffee shop as we sip our cafe
the Christmas lights twinkle in the evening as a cadence of beauty
falls in amber shades aglow, kissing quadrant windows perfect view
bright shiny mirrors in our eyes, we are staring into each others souls...
Wreaths of green with silver baubles frame the wooden entrance door
street lamps are smiling at the halos of our shadowy coupling silhouettes
The aromatic scent of coffee bean and vanilla essence reaches our nose
sweetly wrapping us in festive shawls our mood rejoices, oh love, oh love,
Dance with me to the end of this dream for I believe your are my music
hold my hands across this sturdy table, let me feel your bodily warmth
Peppermint kisses and wooly eyes that see only the gaze of each other
as the snow falls gently twirling all around us at the cafe, we talk softly
Like lovers of old in a realm of new, the weather is so cozy and charming
we huddle closer to each other as the fireplace invites us to its hearth
we choose to stay little longer as the white snow settles all around us
the snowman outside grins a silly grin and says " heh, I know those two"
Green gifts that keep on giving
Memories of hazel holidays past
By our lavender lips keep on living
Telling of the happy times and bad
Reflection of Christmas lights
So festive in the chilly night
And in the children’s eager eyes
Excited for a Christmas prize
Yams on the old black stove cook
While mama pours sugar, dad looks
On coffee table is a holy book
From which bedtime stories took
Fireplace nurses a huge log
Which at first creates a fog
With warmth in our little house
We sing red carols so loud
But we never forget our own
Love ones who passed on
Words of them spoken like poem
They are remembered and well known
Christmas is a red gift to us
For God gave his son Christ
For our good to deliver us
In this spirit let us all unite
The wind is just right
And teases the leaves just so
The warmth from the Styrofoam cup in your hand keeps the chill at bay
You sip the cocoa feeling the marshmallows touch your lips
Your boots click on the concrete and create a rhythm with the crunch of the leaves
The air feels thinner and it's six weeks until Christmas
You feel a twinkle of hope, of ending a year with as much anticipation as a kid waiting for Santa.
Your knit beanie keeps your ears warm and your grateful the weather is not bitter winter
You cozy by the fireplace unwrapping your scarf.
Settling in for conversation and laughter
This is Fall.
Feathery snowflakes as large as silver dollars waft slowly to the ground!
It's been snowing since yesterday and in the house we are cozily bound.
It has blanketed the lawn and adorned the ponderosa with garlands so grand.
Jack Frost has etched arabesque designs on our windowpanes without end!
My spouse and I are cuddled on the couch sipping Beringer Chardonnay.
Shadows dance about the room from the fireplace log smoldering away.
The lights are low and Montavani's soothing music is so pleasing to the ear.
'Tis the perfect ambience as we watch it snow and reminisce about yesteryear.
Spooks the dog and Simba the cat have called a truce to their usual brawling.
They seem to be at peace and, entwined, nigh the hearth they lie sprawling.
Outside, the snow is drifting and suddenly I hear a horse's muted neigh,
Trotting merrily along with a load of cheerful folk in an old-fashioned sleigh!
Currier and Ives would be hard pressed to depict such a scene as this.
With the one you love before a glowing fire on such a night is pure bliss.
I am going to savor this special evening 'cause just as sure as I'm alive,
I'll be up at the crack of dawn shoveling heaps of snow from my drive!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Placed No. 1 in Gail Angel Doyle's "Winter's Blanket" contest - Nov 2012
May be the silky shivers you love
The hairy warmness you wish so close
The golden hue from our overflowing cup
Get reduced to dew on a rose
The petals you deeply smell today
The current of air you love in the quay
Holding the boat in intense sway
Tomorrow in vacuum pass away
No need to cry to God and seek
A magic return of your warm fireplace
Nothing once gone does come again
Our life is such a bitter loveliness
I shall still be in raindrops
Doing designs on your windowpane
Looking at your grey full stops
Wishing to enter your bluish vein
Look for me not in the howling wind
Nor in the shades of willow tree
I shall be in the flower on your hair pinned
On the swing you would share with me
Enjoy everything that you would love to
I shall be in peace and content seeing you vibrant
Such beautiful life you will never again pass through
Celebrate and let me be an aery observant
_________________________________________________
May 22, 2016
For: Weepy Quatrain – Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Laura Loo
12/12/2023
STROKE THE HEART, IGNITE THE FLAME
I went on a heathered journey to his heart.
So passionately anxious was I to depart.
To his welcoming mountain cabin in the woods.
I walked through the fresh snow, as best I could.
Where a warm, welcoming, fireplace awaited me.
Through the falling snow I could barely see.
His most alluring shadow on a shade I did see.
Only a few more steps, to be wrapped in those arms
that winter, magnificently.
The table was set with utter perfection.
Quickly, I entered,nearly running in his direction.
No time for useless chit-chat at all, now.
The candles flickered our shadows on the wall, oh wow!
Oh, night of passion’s amberness, truly divine,
two magical lovers, intertwined.
A kingdom of tenderness, when I was fully thine.
Great Grandpa Moses first built the old shack
in the summer on nineteen twenty-three,
thrown up with big logs, hard maple and oak,
it only measured twelve feet by fifteen.
There have been two expansions since those days,
a real bathroom and a whole upper floor,
with the bunkrooms it will sleep eight people,
but gets crowded if you add any more.
It sits way back in the Northwoods forests,
in an empty corner way up in Maine,
amidst logging roads sits four hundred acres
that have for so long boasted of our name.
In the Fall months in has been the site
where we’ve taken close to one hundred deer,
one at a time, you got to follow laws,
we’ve just been doing it for many years.
And though the hunt carries its own appeal,
it’s comradery that has made this place,
all that goes on when nightfall has settled
and we sit ’round the fieldstone fireplace.
The amount of beer consumed on these grounds
may strike a rock star as very obscene,
not to mention the cards tossed fast about,
and the stories told that nobody believes.
Outside stretches a ground-level deck,
an outdoor room in the long, warmer months,
a hand-made table sits there upon it,
a good space where we often clean our guns.
The land is mostly an evergreen swath,
though forty acres cleared form a good plot,
to keep the herd big, it’s around this place
where we get them more likely than not.
Though it was deep in a small old-growth patch
where my father bagged the family’s only moose,
he’d been lucky, got a permit that year,
and shot the bull while it fed under spruce.
I’d like to say I got a deer every year,
but hunters can be well-known for their lies,
I usually get a buck every other,
those whitetails really know how to survive.
These days some of my older nephews
want to run power and wifi to the joint,
whenever they do well all roll our eyes,
they seem entirely to miss the point!
And now my boy Mose, though you be but one year,
I pray you will not become like those fools,
and grow to have may adventures here,
one day I know you will love this place too.