#firewood - Hello Poetry

trees are changing their robes; on misty mornings I am sitting on my porch. a book I've found in a vintage bookstore at the corner of my street is lying in my lap drinking a tea wrapped into my favorite blanket and watching my neighbors carving their pumpkins smelling the scent of firewood while also listening to Frank Sinatra autumn, oh autumn where have you been?

0

Oct 21, 2018

Oct 21, 2018 at 12:46 PM UTC

whatjuliethinks

the autumn spirit

trees are changing their robes; on misty mornings I am sitting on my porch. a book I've found in a vintage bookstore at the corner of my street is lying in my lap drinking a tea wrapped into my favorite blanket and watching my neighbors carving their pumpkins smelling the scent of firewood while also listening to Frank Sinatra autumn, oh autumn where have you been?

17

The bitter cold nips at my neck but I linger outside if only to get a whiff of the smoky smell of firewood burning that makes me nostaglic for winter days.

0

Feb 12, 2015

Feb 12, 2015 at 10:40 AM UTC

amandamarion

winter daze

The bitter cold nips at my neck but I linger outside if only to get a whiff of the smoky smell of firewood burning that makes me nostaglic for winter days.

8

You promised kisses beneath the old oak You said you would give youself to me then Under the summer's eager stary eyes But they came and cut the oak down But not before you left town Now all I have is the promise Of firewood for those cold lonely nights

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Dec 20, 2015

Dec 20, 2015 at 7:59 PM UTC

South-by-Southwest

Promised Kisses

You promised kisses beneath the old oak You said you would give youself to me then Under the summer's eager stary eyes But they came and cut the oak down But not before you left town Now all I have is the promise Of firewood for those cold lonely nights

14

You don't fight fire with fire that makes it burn brighter You don't pour fuel to the flame for it to tame Anger leads to anger it never leads to good if a match is lit don't give the fire firewood Don't make it hotter don't fight fire with fire use water.

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Jul 21, 2021

Jul 21, 2021 at 10:47 AM UTC

rise_and_shine

Fire with Fire

You don't fight fire with fire that makes it burn brighter You don't pour fuel to the flame for it to tame Anger leads to anger it never leads to good if a match is lit don't give the fire firewood Don't make it hotter don't fight fire with fire use water.

15

warmth. a fire that needs kindling. it’s dying out, we’ve lost the tinder stick. so i blow. i fill up my lungs until they hurt: inhale; exhale; my head spins and there is no air. i do it again, i don’t save any for myself. i am dizzy. the ash is swirling up in the air. inhale. exhale. my chest is going to burst. the ash is settling on my skin, tattooing the harsh reminder of how much i give. inhale. exhale. i can no longer see. inhale. exhale. i have done all that i can, all that remains is my soul. my heart has abandoned me, my lungs have died. my mind is on the outs with me, she says i shouldn’t even try. do i throw it into the embers, too? perhaps that’s all it needs to stay alight forever, but i am too tired now. i never listen.

0

Mar 28, 2024

Mar 28, 2024 at 8:25 AM UTC

poisonedelixir

fire would

warmth. a fire that needs kindling. it’s dying out, we’ve lost the tinder stick. so i blow. i fill up my lungs until they hurt: inhale; exhale; my head spins and there is no air. i do it again, i don’t save any for myself. i am dizzy. the ash is swirling up in the air. inhale. exhale. my chest is going to burst. the ash is settling on my skin, tattooing the harsh reminder of how much i give. inhale. exhale. i can no longer see. inhale. exhale. i have done all that i can, all that remains is my soul. my heart has abandoned me, my lungs have died. my mind is on the outs with me, she says i shouldn’t even try. do i throw it into the embers, too? perhaps that’s all it needs to stay alight forever, but i am too tired now. i never listen.

34

Overgrowths of arm-post life Lift upward as my steam-breath Vanishes thinly into the sky. Cool sweat drips deliberately As the stacks grow larger And the sawdust smells and sticks. The wagon-load will wallow obediently As the frost bites cleanly Through the still winter dusk. Ash white smoke curls softly From the cut-stone chimney Where a portrait of simplicity Sleeps eternally in my mind.

0

Jul 6, 2020

Jul 6, 2020 at 9:34 PM UTC

achunn

Firewood

Overgrowths of arm-post life Lift upward as my steam-breath Vanishes thinly into the sky. Cool sweat drips deliberately As the stacks grow larger And the sawdust smells and sticks. The wagon-load will wallow obediently As the frost bites cleanly Through the still winter dusk. Ash white smoke curls softly From the cut-stone chimney Where a portrait of simplicity Sleeps eternally in my mind.

13