Dirk Hedlund Jun 2013

Span the hour of dark intent,
the raven's flight slips through the night.
Phantom shadows dance by campfire light,
and gossimer moonlight shines.
Unseen footsteps heard in the dark,
some black nightmare approaches.

Roisin Sullivan Jul 2014

As you all sat around the campfire
I hope you kept me in mind
And thought to yourself
"Oh what a wonderful life."
But to be honest you probably
Didn't remember a lot
The morning after;
Just as you failed to recall
Your promises made to me before.

BMMJ
Kevin J Taylor Oct 2015

Smouldering moon over fallen dark embers—
fragments rising in corkscrew red-gold rhythms

collin Jun 2015

for three weeks we'll embark
to sleep amongst the tree bark
easily remembering this is not a theme park
bring the s'mores and your best ghost stories
i'll lock them away in the diamond quarries
the insatiable nightmares will prey
on us beyond the light, we'll pray
at night they go away but if they
want to stay we'll stand and fight
fly a kite of grey and laugh and play

DG Oct 2012

Emotion is like a campfire
You try to cover it with hard wood
but true feeling is in the burning coals

you cannot touch it
so you try to cover it
but it will only burn brighter

Stefan Valicia Nov 2014

Huddled around a campfire,
We each seek
A little oasis of light and warmth
On the darkest and coldest of nights.

Looking into each others eyes,
Seeing faces lighting up with laughter,
Or tears running down cheeks.
It doesn't matter which.
As long as we face each other,
We see the light, and hear the love
We create for each other.

However,
Whenever we turn away,
Gaze into the shadows
And imagine we are
All alone
In a Universe
Without light and
Without love.  
We often feel surrounded by darkness
And totally lost.

Which is more real,
The world in which,
Lost,
We sit alone,
Or one in which,
Equally lost,
We sit together...

jeffrey robin Jun 2010

i walk solitude back to its source
and find

little hints that you are here

Steele Feb 2015

And the fire burns cold."

"What?" He whispered, eyes wide.
"It's true," She whispered. She cried. She shivered.
"There's no warmth by the fire's side."

"I'm the fire." He murmurs.
"Yes." She replies.

PJ Poesy Dec 2015

Stomped earth with broad feet
Fastening fresh saplings into
Whole forests
Eight feet by eight feet, the grid
Through winter month's
To early spring
Line of tree planters, twenty
Sometimes less, sometimes more
On Shasta, on Lassen, on Trinity Alps
Douglas Firs and Ponderosa Pines
In Mendocino, in Eureka
Planting baby giants, Redwoods
Sequoias in Sequoia National and Klamath
Young men with hoe-dads
Knew some old ones too
Women as well, though few
If you could bear the snow, the rain
If you could bear back-breaking pain
The glory is yours
As was once mine
Reforestation
Go plant your line
To be eternally in
Mother Nature's good graces
And kinship known by campfire

In my early twenties, I worked in reforestation. Though weathering most inclement days, as saplings must be planted in the wet season, it was a most fulfilling time in my life. I planted whole forests all over Northern California. The men and women I worked with were so deeply dedicated, and all pulled together to make camping out in that brutal weather tolerable. Some of my best memories are there in those young forests. I often wonder how those thousands of trees I planted, fair today.
Sad but Rad Oct 2014

Smoke rolled off the fire
You lips tasted like liquor
I said I'd never been drunk
It only took one kiss

Karan Feb 2016

There's a war within blue ocean
And there's velvet colors in the sky
Its not the usual jungle campfire
Just warm your bones, lie besides

Warm your gaze, look at the stars
Come home, you are not so far
Love is like the violent tides
Low at day and high at nights

And we'll sing out the songs
We wont fear for the dark
We will live for some time
We will be dancing to campfire

Come now you come, along me
Walking hands in my hands
When we'll reach the other side
We know we would be friends

ryan May 2015

I've got bloodshot vision obstructed
By ash and smoke,
Grit and smog and ember.
The heat is always there, in the flame,
In the smoke, in the air --
In your hands,
Tickling the edges of my face and
Licking at my hair.
And even as the water level
Passes over my eyes, wetting my
Cheeks and jeans, I can
Still see you as
Clearly as the future we've etched
In the streets we've walked,
Down to the black robins that
Will settle on your face in the
Light of the campfire.

SilentMetanoia May 2016

You are a July campfire
And you, baby hands stretched out in warmth,
calloused fingers plucking metal strings
moments of laughter I'd echo for hours

I am the forest, and I sit in awe of you
Frayed blankets over the leaves,
calf's and feet intertwined
other initials carved into my skin.

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