Woodsmoke Poems | Examples

Woodsmoke, Laughter, and Warmth

Woodsmoke, Laughter, and Warmth

Sunlight slanting through pines,
the creak's cold whisper,
a child's echo of laughter.
Bare feet on smooth stones, slick with moss.
Ankle-deep in melted snow, a shiver on the skin.
The taste of distant winter, sharp and clean.
Splintered light on the water's surface,
a fleeting mirror of a girl's wonder.

Flickering flames,
a circle of warmth,
faces I know by heart.
The mountain's breath a memory.
Drying by the fire,
the scent of woodsmoke clinging to a wet t-shirt.
Laughter, a low hum of stories,
spun in the smoke that rises and disappears.
Hands held out to the heat,
the red glow on fingertips.
The day a perfect circle, beginning and ending here.
A final, deep breath before the chill returns.

A breathless house wheezes

Contest: Breathless
Sponsor: Constance La France
Written: 24/05/2025

Quote "To breathe is to live, and without breath, there is no life." — Lailah Gifty Akita

A breathless house wheezes

Winter looms with frost-laced breath,
this house shudders in anticipation-
Its narrow corridors wince at the thought.
These rooms have shrinking walls,
their windows wedged shut,
And doors refuse to stay open.
The air hangs heavy, like woodsmoke
curling through blocked flue pipes.
I do not breathe-
I sip air through a bent straw,
and when the wheeze arrives,
it’s like a violin strung too tight,
always threatening to snap.
Running was a rebellion, still is, 
playing football, was a war of attrition,
With head covered by a towel,
hovering over a steam bowl for hours.
Today, I carry an inhaler,
like a priest carries a bible-
not always believing,
but when breath becomes prayer,
I reach for it.

Coming Back

Thoughts keep coming back
of late afternoons
with the dark wings
of currawongs weaving
pathways through the high 
branches leaving long threads 
of song draped across trees -
the drifting skeins
of woodsmoke from winter fires
burning in cozy rooms,
eyes fixed in hypnotic stares 
on dancing flames and minds 
meandering the past, some
about to fall asleep.

Thoughts keep coming back
of snow falling silently 
in feathery flakes
outside the window
and in the distance, an owl's 
plaintive call going unanswered
in the thick air.
I listen to the sound of the fire,
a ticking wall clock,
breathings from beneath
a folded quiet and the drip
of melt water from somewhere
in the dark. I would like to stay
here but the fire is dying out
and its glowing embers
are nearly spent. A chill
is seeping through the cracks
opening between the past
and the present.

Woodsmoke in the Wind

My long-lost winter is here
Even if it has not snowed,
For by and by, woodsmoke is near
Drifting slow across the road

A most distinctive scent
It carries to the nose,
Up, up a chimney vent
Where a fireplace glows

Quite pleasant, yet strong
This scent I do remember,
Though it lasts not long
From many a dying ember 

The season's sure sign
Where a chill has set in,
Warms their heart and mine
So let another winter begin 

Woodsmoke in the wind
Just here and gone that day, 
Passed the weathervane spinned
Up north near my way.

Whispers of Autumn

When  butterflies float downward like a leaf
As air of Autumn dances everywhere
Whispers of wings become a bright motif
Floating, drifting, wandering on blue air.

Scents of cinnamon whisper treats to come
As wondrous woodsmoke warms us from within
At entry doors are straw and flowering mums
Every shape and size of gourd and pumpkin

Fall promises us all its bright enchantment
A whirling, orange world of wind and leaves
Known as a season of mad derangement
Yet of all- it is the one that most appeals

If I were to choose one season to be 
I'd sleep until Autumn whispered to me

Ode to Tofitian Rain

Ode to Tofitian Rain


What is in Tofino rain
that makes it smell so sweet?
A blend of berries, a certain strain
of sea salt, fog and peat

it smells of woodsmoke, tangy fir
and kelp washed up on shore
it smells of bitter evergreen
and dampened black bear fur,
blackberry wine that I just poured
and roasted coffee bean

it smells of maple, honeycomb
it smells of earth
it smells like home.

When I Think About You

When I think about you, 

I can see the sun streaming through the trees as we lay underneath them, 
staring up and the blue and white and endless of it all. 
I smell woodsmoke and summer breezes and soap, 
and it takes me back to all the places we've been and the places we're going to go. 
I hear every song that's made you think of me, 
and every song I've ever wanted to sing to you. 

When I think about you, 

Life is three dimensional and brilliant and full, 
and I forget what it was like before you, 
and I hope I never know what it might be like after you, 
and I hate sleeping because it's minutes that I'm taking from us, 
from me and you,
from everything we are and everything we're 
meant to be.

A Real Cowboy

I always wanted to be a real cowboy.
A Buck-a-rue with scars on my cheeks and worn boots,
I wanted my spurs to jingle and my saddle to creak and
 deep lines and sun burned skin decorating my face,
an ugly galoot and dressing in a suit, Pert-near a disgrace.

I wanted to eat out on the range under the Cottonwoods                                                                          and smell of woodsmoke and sweat,
 clean my plate with the rub of an elbow before putting it in my pack
and throwing what’s left of my coffee on the campfire before
 Ole Paint and I trailed back.

I wanted to pitch my bedroll under the moon, gaze 
at the stars that cover the sky at night,
go to sleep with the wind rustling cottonwood leaves,
the mournful sound of the cattle lowing
and the gentle words of the night hawk’s song  
putting the herd at ease.

I wanted to be a real cowboy, not just to play the part,
a real cowboy living a dream and riding my Quarter Horse.
But could I stand up to the lonely times when nature
turned its back on me and the wind was no longer a breeze
but a cold howling wind, a biting wind and I didn’t have my wife’s arms 
to comfort me.

Peaceful Dawn

Last night's grief was filled with a serene dawn.
Woodsmoke and scalded spices flood the air.
The darkened sunlight disclaims treads the lawn.
Last night's grief was filled with a serene dawn.
Its frail hand yet brings in a shift of fawn.
A dream, like a toenail, is a brief dare.
Last night's grief was filled with a serene dawn.
Woodsmoke and scalded spices flood the air.

Written: February 26, 2023

Bonfire

on a cold clear night
they huddle close together with 
    scorched fronts and icy backs  
eyes reflecting the flames in ruddy faces 
    woodsmoke permeating hair and clothes
fine grey ash coating eyelashes 

the huge fire consumes noisily
   above glowing red eyed coals 
racing tongues of flames blaze
   in hypnotic sinuous movement 
a flickering dance of orange gold yellow

a twister of smoke writhes upward
     into the night sky 
     dragging sparks like stars inside it 

the transfixing power of bonfire 
      a living breathing entity 
             dangerously thrilling 
the primal part of man watches in awe 




19 September 2022
Fall Flavours Poetry Contest 
Theme... Having a Bonfire 
Sponsor.. Regina McIntosh

In the Stillness

In the stillness lies unbroken
The fragile silence of the day
When a whispering, winter wind
Comes in to rest from play

In the silence of the wood
Lies the peace, so hard to find
Lost, then found, as well I could
To collect my heart and mind

In the stillness falls the snow
And nothing else has to matter
Not the chills that come and go
Or the teeth that begin to chatter

In the stillness of the season
I see a cardinal live and thrive
Persistently, and without reason
While the coldest winters drive

In the stillness, not a mile away
There above the treetops I see
Curling woodsmoke hang and stay
From a home that waits for me

In the stillness all is well
Between the heavens and the earth
Take this moment, live it well
And know just what its worth

Goddess of Autumn

Gliding down amber, leaf strewn lanes
Her wild hair flowing in golden tones
Goddess of Autumn awakens again
To soothe the sound of Winter’s pain

She lingers in woodsmoke of promises made
Where trees are shedding their Summer shade
She paints their green with a crimson tinge
Beside oaks that stand all acorn-ringed

Her voice is whispering in every glade
Her frosty eyes and spicy smile
Her ragged, leaf brown rustling gown 
Her brisk, bright essence floating down

Stepping Into Twilight

All year I wait- anticipate the 
rusting of the leaves.....the
mad disorder of them blowing
filling up the eaves
I long to brace against the chill
with woodsmoke in the air.
and walk these orange corridors
where all the trees are bare.

As I step this cushioned path at year’s end 
suddenly aware of time that’s gone
I’m thankful for the wisdom to endure
all that winter and heaven may be holding. 

Fall into Fall
Written 9/19/19
Contest Judged:  9/22/2019 3:44:00 PM
Sponsored by: Chantelle Anne Cooke 
3rd. Place

Primavera Comes

Primavera  Comes

Lightly she descends--
 her feet move toward us,
over the crest of the Vermont hills.

In her footsteps  
spring vernal pools;
in her hair are golden 
willow twigs,
tangled goldfinches
with black-barred wings 
fluttering.

As she passes,
her breath breathes early violets 
and crushed grass, mixed
with notes of woodsmoke and diesel.

She skirts the dusty tractor
tilting down by the brook;
the hem of her garment trails
tin cans and gum wrappers.

At night the peepers sing her coming
in diminishing chorus
Harmonizing with a faint police siren 
from the next valley.

Stars are her sprinkled diadem, 
Milky Way flowing slow as time,
through black cutouts of trees; 
outshown by streetlights.

Tattered, rain-blown, discouraged,
still she comes to us,
Arms scattering lilacs.

-- Peggy Brightman (c) 2016

The Sweetest Sign - Concretized

Vital fluids drip
            into the bucket
        below.
Corn snow underfoot
        a stark landscape
              black and white
          trees, snow and
        shadow.
In the early dawn
     our breath clouds
              and the air
                   smells of
              woodsmoke 
      and new maple 
syrup.
Surely 
         the sweetest 
                   sign of spring!
.
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A new month, won't be long now.

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