Short Furnace Poems
Short Furnace Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Furnace by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Furnace by length and keyword.
My eyes burn
its fiery furnace
glows increasingly with pain
as the hours go by
I should have got some sleep last night
Stretch me on the floor
And paint the rapture on the door
Make a furnace beneath Me
Fragile,as a tender pot
He moulds us in the furnace
The fire makes our beauty last
Clean,glazed mistakes erased-
A new creation cast.
bang, my furnace stops
checking it out, emerging...
all black powder laced
11/13/18
Black Powder contest
Sponsor: Anthony Slausen
October only knew Summer
The seasons awry
Cast your shoes,
walk barefoot
this heated World
Dance in the bright dew grass
find out the furnace of the earth
Decending well into its inferno,
A realm of beauty, a furnace of love;
Not the frightfully "Dante's Inferno".
When hearts are ablaze; What colors of love!
Grasshopper in boiling pot
Wild wolf in boiling furnace
Pauper in king’s palace
Rich man in pauper’s hut
Devil queen in God’s kingdom
Holy Angel in devil’s palace
These hot summers are
like a hellish furnace
It's no one's fault
but all I can feel
Is mild annoyance
at the hot weather
And a deep desire to hide
and try to stay cool.
Fiery furnace-filled flames,
Fabulously flash-flare;
Fantastic feelings flow,
Forming flamboyancy;
Flirtatious fancies foam,
Fabricating frenzy;
Freedom flutters fondly...
Stoke, stoke, stoke the fire
‘til it blazes like a furnace
heats up every waking moment
‘til it’s consumed you
‘til you must start
in anew
If your brain's causing you strain
And you want to flow your poetry again,
Then stop going to your taxidermist
And you will fire up your furnace,
I really think he's stuffing up you brain.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
January hush~
snowflakes dissolve in black tea,
the moon a pale sip.
Downstairs, the furnace hums
its old, familiar psalm.
It's one of those bad days, don't know why
Parts need replacing on the furnace, from Dubai
Joking of course
What could be worse
Shipment's on its way arriving sometime next July
Burning alive just to pass time
My face melts against fire and brimstone.
Eternal inferno, the furnace glows
with the need for more fuel.
I am not damned, I am alive.
Bite Size Poem no15
Cold hands
Abrupt attacks on skin of a furnace
Teasing the surface
A passionate play through hair standing like stalks of wheat
Transferring love
Warmth soaking the chill
As sun bathes the dawn
Let no man take for granted,
the next man’s patience.
In next man’s heart resides
the blade, golden like furnace
To burn to hell, in vengeance,
in atonements of patience,
once taken for granted
About Republican Business
There is much about Republican business,
And it seems like up they want to burn us;
Not only do annoy,
Completely destroy,
Like paper found burning in a big furnace.
Jim Horn
At this hearth, in the furnace of each person, we each must learn
To go beyond fanning the flames, to be grounded in its needs.
Upon this earth coal will flame, love, and meld us each into each.
A distant motorcycle drones
Fading away
“that” dog barks
It must be 8:15
A bus honks
A siren sounds
Jet engines overhead
A quick dream
The furnace kicks in
Breakfast!
Maybe pancakes?
John G. Lawless
©4/8/2023
STILL WINTER
through the barren trees
an endless expanse of gray
an orange street light
eye out the window
froze in hopeless thought, now my
furnace hums comfort
tiny figurines
on a shelf life of their own
care not for seasons
dead
bones rise
in ashes,
furnace spews clouds
smelling putrid smoke,
tongues consume bodies all,
aeolian whispers fan
Varanasi’s fierce appetite,
prayer flags wave like a wick of hope
while the ruddy Ganges silently flows
If only Autumn
could relent its teeth
like a furnace burning bright
it celebrates the dearth
of confidence
like friends lost at sea
It claims lost souls
spindle wood
you've pawned our tomorrows
and adjourned our yesterdays
The wind chime that he restrung
and hung up on the center beam,
chimes lightly in the forced-air of the furnace,
while the tick-tock of the cuckoo clock
repeats itself every second dusk to dawn,
like the shadow of a heartbeat.
In the furnace
You call success
Flames consume desire
And inject a loneliness
Into embers
Which lie dying
Slowly
Upon ashes that
Disintegrate
Washing grey dust
Amongst the coals
That once
Lit the fire.
no one around here
ever sees it coming
everything happens
behind our eyes
hear the crackling
briefcase in a furnace
everything happens
behind our eyes
sit down beside me
and kill the radio
everything happens
behind our eyes