Long Fireplaces Poems
Long Fireplaces Poems. Below are the most popular long Fireplaces by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Fireplaces poems by poem length and keyword.
"Where We Hide And Play"
For some being within the arms of moonlight is true
all would agree no other site will do
such illumination enhances all the wonder
You and I say otherwise
For others a suite draped with roses and satin is divine
all would agree a place to lavish within each others' wine
replenishing thirst with each savoring taste
Yes you and I say otherwise
For most a night by a lit fireplace ignites passion
all would agree to be a number one attraction
having the warmth blanket the flesh of a naked body
Still you and I say otherwise
For us the place of places remains the cooler
our private exclusive spot that began this journey
all would agree unusual with a taste of humor
Again you and I say otherwise
Under the moon we walked
We have seen the roses bloom
The lit fireplaces forever glow
I say let love flourish where it may
You say all with have their special day
We both say the cooler is where we hide and play
SkyWatcher - 02-25-17
(don't ask this was moons ago)
...........+++++............
again, she waits till granite morning
becomes juniper borealis
and marble evening returns to morning…
many of days the stars hide from arrogance
to radiance, shut eyelids burning heaven’s
fireplaces stillborn soft. and she waits
wondering
waning
wandering
till heaven holds her spleen from
whispers stenciled with half-known embraces
far, far away unto decaying killing fields
where bullets pierce the hope of many a man
who starve for homemade broth and slices
of children’s chaste eyes
fool, fool of maiden faith
daughter of tribal’s gliding ebb
tell me, are you diminished or stretched by
bravery that taunts the pain?
all rights reserved
©
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Christmas
______________________________
The weather is getting colder,
as fireplaces roar
and Christmas is getting closer
it's knocking on the door.
Families all decorating,
their houses and a tree
getting ready for the holiday
and other family they will see.
Meals being planned ahead,
making sure there is enough
make sure you get all you need
and a turkey you can stuff.
We think about the ones not here,
and the ones there overseas
and those who have no home at all
makes you thankful for times like these.
You wish everyone could have the same,
to share in Christmas cheer
but I know how some people hurt
when it comes this time of year.
I may not be able to do that much,
but I help people when I can
treat every day like Christmas
to care and lend a hand.
It doesn't require any money,
to smile and make a persons day
to let them see, they too are loved
on this lonely Christmas Holiday.
Tis the season to be joyful,
celebrating the lord above
So I wish all of you Merry Christmas
and a big virtual hug.
Men in tailored suits
and satin waistcoats,
gold watches peeking
out of their pockets,
walked arm in arm
with women in wide skirts ~
hooped,
crinolined,
elegantly sculpted.
Their tight corsets tease each careful traipse,
leaving traces of elegance and opulence...
dotting the streets at Christmastime
with exaggerated silhouettes.
They kissed under mistletoe ~
hung in doorways,
each kiss claiming a berry
until none were left.
Saliva dried from whispered promises,
and crisper breaths.
When mouths moistened anew,
their laughter spilled under winter's sun,
burning with the thrill
of ice-skating parties.
Half-empty plates of Christmas pudding,
roast meats and other festive dishes —
littered Victorian tables,
attesting to well-fed tummies
and indulgent hearts.
Back home, the evening evened
with silent acting charades,
Blind Man's Bluff, Forfeits, and Snapdragon.
Pass the Slipper, Piggy Squeak, and Hunt the Ring ~
played near wood-burning fireplaces,
transformed by Christmas
into coziness, family warmth
and seasonal magic.
Christmas trees stood adorned,
strategically placed
to frisk each risk of its sly trick
that might sneak out
to steal away their joy.
When the gift boxes were opened,
the fiancé received
smoking caps,
shaving soaps,
and tobacco pouches.
The fiancée unwrapped
doilies,
silver tea balls,
and tea strainers ~
simple treasures exchanged
beneath candlelit ceilings
in that age of elegance,
where laughter and love lingered long,
like the scent of pine needles and roast goose,
long after Christmas Day had passed.
Happiness is heaven, ecstasy gratifying
Sensual and satisfaction zest and delight.
I am quite confident; it comes all the year round.
It comes in the springtime when new buds appear
And nature's perfume fecundates the parks.
The season is warmer and children can play,
Listen to them, it’s laughter all the way.
It comes in summer, with hot and humid days,
We lie near each other savoring our ways.
The sea is calm and bathers can enjoy
Both a refreshing swim or some cold lollipops.
It comes in autumn with air that's so crisp
As the first snowflakes bring down the red dry leaves.
Thanksgiving is organized, a sumptuous feast.
Tilled harvested fields prepared as the chill is a beast.
But wet windy winter comes cold and hoary days
Snowfalls cover the roads and all stay snug in homes,
Everywhere fireplaces radiate warmth and shelter,
For many people think that happiness is not far away.
And so, as the year draws to a miserable end,
Let’s open a bubbly, and happy greetings send.
Cold winds come
bring
white ice, the moon drifts
over sleeping lands
High it rides a singular eye
watching all in the frost tonight
my feet are cold eternally numb
the snow is deep familiar thoughts come
of home
Of family
of friends
And Fireplaces
warm familiar faces
Of holidays
Of escapades
And memories
Of hollow graves
Of nightmares dark
Desolations plains
Alone
My thoughts come
The fire burns
warming my hollow soul
Eternal winds cuts deep my skin
Finds every hole in this old coat
Sleet blowing out behind me
finding every opening of my will
it chills my very core
Tracing icy fingers down my spine
looking into the depth of indigo night
in heaven stars burn
the quiet Death of my humanity
On the asphalt
the ice is black
Or its were crimson pools, infinity
Stretching out before me
where my mind quietly
keeps each gentle memories
Each burnt tragedy
each gently lingering
some shadows cold
Some lights are bold
But
images of you now
and then
Of golden times
of in Riding High
richer times
Deeper hues
almost forgotten
but not lost
to me
I linger here n there in indigo
I stand where my soul dares
its where I remain
I sit and reflect
into places where
my mind quietly keeps
gentle memories that linger
in my sleep
Or haunt my nightmares
as a cold wings come
and bring white ice
As the moon drifts higher over head
my eternal gaze
Rises high to meet a singular eye
sliver in tone
I watch it all in the frosted night
I feel numb as the snowy
shadows flair
Over a snowbound land
I dare
The earth moans the earth and blood is soaked into dirt, the beatitude stands still and the mountain goat is grazing patiently on the hill. The birds are conducting Sunday morning mass and the leaders are prostrating on the grass; woeful tears are streaming down their faces and sins of their youth are scattered in open ditches, running streams, sidewalks and fortified manholes. Bullets wriggling in their flesh and some of them lay face down gasping for breath.
The whippoorwill is flying about and cannery is flying with a knife stuck in its throat. The sun is barely peeping out and the new is flying around the town. Some too busy to listen to it and other are too scared to absorb it. Everything came to a standstill and the news is already waving in the sky. Anxious eyes scrambling for answer and their body temperature are getting hotter. I mute my lips and take a gigantic leap over the three hundred- and fifty-kilometers precipice , clouds beneath clouds, create a waving movement in the sky and clouds underneath clouds spreading inside out. Hundreds of bodies lie still at the altar, swimming in their own pool while the morning scampers along with the machine gun trembling in their hands; they are getting ready for another Sunday mass
The Priests are purifying the grounds and they are spilling the incense all around; a strange sensation burst through the atmosphere and mourners are lining the streets watching destiny as it completes its final round. The old flag is lowered and the new flag is raised to the tower.
Pine cone appears in the middle of the earth and covers the earth’s surface in an oblique manner. They roll from the top of the hill pitching a big tenth in the middle of nowhere, silver, brown and grey they all had something unique to say. It’s regeneration, its human enlightenment it is the rebirth of the life that I have never lived, it’s my childhood yearning my adolescence longing and my adult new life, I have always dream of someone like you but can you really make my adult dream come through, and what about all the people around you I will carve the message on the pumpkin skin and sign it with a daffodils. The lantern is lit, the fireplaces is warm so meet my for coffee or tea before the break of dawn and take the silver pine cone with you.
Canvassers of the word, from the fireplaces of
Pregnant minds let us, with ebullient enthusiasm,
Pen flaming words to melt away the dismay in a world
Wrought with war, bigotry, injustice, hate, and loss hope:-
Let us not merely pen-paint entertainment, but more importantly,
Let us vision awareness, inspiration, confidence, determination,
And ever burning faith in ability to work and overcome despair
And apathetical slacking attitudes of deplorable indifference:-
Come let us ignite ingenuity in those who have lost all hope;
Fueling them with belief in self and God, that while oppression
Presently holds its head high, the days of the very hairs of his head
Are numbered; and that with undying faith and work, they will be cut:-
May the words of our mind’s mouths likewise excite ebullient
Enthusiasm in the hearts, minds, and souls of those whose eyes view us,
And whose spirits, are fueled by their inking, that freely flows
From the divine wisdom and guidance of the rivers of God’s creativity:-
the melting snow sits
on the remnants of green lawn --
the smell of smoke
Andrea D. Suggested the following changes
the snow melts
on the remnant of green lawn --
the smell of smoke
Chris A. Suggests some of the articles be removed
snow melts
on remnants of green lawn --
the smell of smoke
Rueben O. has made a valid comment too regarding the word remnant.
Jack Kerouac once said that haiku should be as simple as porridge and
the word remnant is NOT..it is a word best used in free verse.
As to whether it's Spring or early Winter I think the smell of smoke
shows nicely that folks have lit their fireplaces BUT I'm open to suggestion.
the snow melts
above patches of green grass --
chimney smoke
Rueben now we have come to the end of my desire to tinker ;)
Line 3 as it stands was MY Ahaa moment seeing how the cold and the heat
both occur in beauty simultaneously BUT my AhhhHA! may be your [so what]
that's fine..and it is GOOD to point out the fragmented line is tthe hardest to excell
in.it is the line where without [telling] by [showing] the poet tries to
communicate how they felt in awe....
*This is how folks work on a haiku :)
"around the bend is winter"
we say goodbye to autumn and all her flair
around the bend is winter with santa very near
we think of gifts to be bought
as we ponder naughty or naught
orange and gold disappear making room for white
we see reflections of crystals sparkling bright
apple pies are now gone as we gave praise
we look to the next season's ice glaze
we begin to write to the north pole
dashing through the snow we stroll
with this come warm mittens and lit fireplaces
we greet family and friends with holiday embraces
let white snow fall to build guardian snowmen
viewing from inside no one will ever be frozen
this beautiful scene always will be
free and open to you and me
children of all ages rush to play in such weather
for this moment and time places everyone together
each season is a magical merry go round
all with their unique scene and sound
whether warm hot cool or cold
their appearance is never old
we say goodbye to autumn and all her flair
around the bend is winter with santa very near
-- SkyWatcher --
09-28-18
note
I know autumn just began
winter is always around the bend
have a wonderful autumn and winter too