Fireplace Poems

Belinda lived in a little white house,
With a little black kitten and a little gray mouse,
And a little yellow dog and a little red wagon,
And a realio, trulio, little pet dragon.
...

In Baltimore there lived a boy.
He wasn't anybody's joy.
Although his name was Jabez Dawes,
His character was full of flaws. In school he never led his classes,
...

This is the forest primeval. The murmuring pines and the hemlocks,
Bearded with moss, and in garments green, indistinct in the twilight,
Stand like Druids of eld, with voices sad and prophetic,
Stand like harpers hoar, with beards that rest on their bosoms.
...

Gone are the days
when you could walk on water.
When you could walk.
...

Out walking in the frozen swamp one gray day,
I paused and said, "I will turn back from here.
No, I will go on farther -- and we shall see."
The hard snow held me, save where now and then
...

Should I get married? Should I be Good?
Astound the girl next door with my velvet suit and faustaus hood?
...

SURELY among a rich man s flowering lawns,
Amid the rustle of his planted hills,
Life overflows without ambitious pains;
And rains down life until the basin spills,
...

Young Croesus went to pay his call
On Colonel Sawbones, Caxton Hall:
And, though his wound was healed and mended,
He hoped he’d get his leave extended.
...

Part One


As night fell and the light glittered in the great house, the servants stood at the massive door awaiting the coming of the guests; and upon their velvet garments shown golden buttons.
...

Announced by all the trumpets of the sky,
Arrives the snow, and, driving o'er the fields,
Seems nowhere to alight: the whited air
Hides hill and woods, the river, and the heaven,
...

Snowflakes are falling like a gift of white.
The classic landscape burns incessant, bright.
Old panes picture, literally, scores of frost.
No single note of music has been lost.
...

To the Memory of the Household It Describes
This Poem is Dedicated by the Author:

"As the Spirits of Darkness be stronger in the dark, so Good Spirits,which be Angels of Light, are augmented not only by the Divine lightof the Sun, but also by our common Wood Fire: and as the CelestialFire drives away dark spirits, so also this our Fire of Wood doth thesame." -- Cor. Agrippa, Occult Philosophy,
...

Away from everyday chaos
Where time flew in a blur
From mundane endeavours
Caging our souls
...

THE long small room that showed willows in the west
Narrowed up to the end the fireplace filled,
Although not wide. I liked it. No one guessed
What need or accident made them so build.
...

Fear, like a living fire that only death
Might one day cool, had now in Avon’s eyes
Been witness for so long of an invasion
That made of a gay friend whom we had known
...

THE air is dark, the sky is gray,
The misty shadows come and go,
And here within my dusky room
...

Having forsaken all paths open to me
I come to you
Always.
And when for a while I am with you
...

A Story of Christmas Eve.



...

Here,
in the room of my life
the objects keep changing.
Ashtrays to cry into,
...

Christmas is here, Jesus to the world brought peace
Everyone is rested as kids spend time with family
Kitchens are ablaze, wives creating good ol’ soul-food
Leslie and Destra, await their turn, under the mistletoe
...

COME WHAT MAY
© Candice James, Poet Laureate Emerita, New Westminster, BC CANADA
What else can I run with on this fine day?
The fireplace dogs are exhausted they say
...

It's raining outside I can hear the pitter patter
Getting louder and louder like the Mad Hatter;
I don't think it will stop.
Watching the rain come down and listen to it chatter.
...

Baby I just stopped by
To clean out
Your fireplace
Baby I know
...

The news we received wasn't tragic…wasn't the worst news we've ever had…still…hearing our fireplace couldn't be used anymore left us feeling sad.

For over 30 years whenever the weather turned cold we had a fire burning there…the sad news wasn't just that she was broken…but she'll cost too much too repair.
...

You've stolen the words
I've been trying to write in vain
Empty sheets wet by the tears
of those left to die in the rain
...

the hearth, the place where tapestries of memories
were woven by unknown hands, weaving truths
and loose lies covered over by colored threads.
That place where anger entered the threshold
...

The first night was to prove to us there were special times ahead
When we lit a 3 hour log in our fireplace before we went to bed.

We all slept soundly comforted by our dreams, not much tossing…not much turning
...