70 Poems about Fire to Feel the Passion

Fire has long captivated the human imagination and has been a symbol of passion, energy, and transformation.

Through a collection of poems about fire, we can explore the many different ways this element has inspired poets throughout history.

From famous works that have stood the test of time, to modern pieces that offer a fresh take on the theme, these poems about fire take us on a journey of the heart and the soul.

Some of these fire poems are funny, some are short and sweet, while others are long and epic, but all of them offer a unique perspective on the power of fire to ignite our passions and transform our lives.

You May Also Be Interested In:

Famous Poems about Fire

Many famous poets have used fire as a powerful symbol of creativity, energy, and destruction. These famous fire poems capture the raw power of fire and its ability to both inspire and consume.

1. A Fairy Song

       by William Shakespeare

Over hill, over dale,

Thorough bush, thorough brier,

Over park, over pale,

Thorough flood, thorough fire!

I do wander everywhere,

Swifter than the moon’s sphere;

And I serve the Fairy Queen,

To dew her orbs upon the green;

The cowslips tall her pensioners be;

In their gold coats spots you see;

Those be rubies, fairy favours;

In those freckles live their savours;

I must go seek some dewdrops here,

And hang a pearl in every cowslip’s ear.

2. The Elves

       by Denise Levertov

Elves are no smaller

than men, and walk

as men do, in this world,

but with more grace than most,

and are not immortal.

Their beauty sets them aside

from other men and from women

unless a woman has that cold fire in her

called poet: with that

she may see them and by its light

they know her and are not afraid

and silver tongues of love

flicker between them.

3. Ambition

       by Robert William Service

They brought the mighty chief to town;

They showed him strange, unwonted sights;

Yet as he wandered up and down,

He seemed to scorn their vain delights.

His face was grim, his eye lacked fire,

As one who mourns a glory dead;

And when they sought his heart’s desire:

“Me like’um tooth same gold,” he said.

A dental place they quickly found.

He neither moaned nor moved his head.

They pulled his teeth so white and sound;

They put in teeth of gold instead.

Oh, never saw I man so gay!

His very being seemed to swell:

“Ha! ha!” he cried, “Now Injun say

Me heap big chief, me look like hell.”

4. Home

       by Wilfred Wilson Gibson

So long had I travelled the lonely road, 

Though, now and again, a wayfairing friend

Walked shoulder to shoulder, and lightened the load,

I often would think to myself as I strode,

No comrade will journey with you to the end.

And it seemed to me, as the days went past,

And I gossiped with cronies, or brooded alone,

By wayside fires, that my fortune was cast

To sojourn by other men’s hearths to the last,

And never to come to my own hearthstone.

The lonely road no longer I roam.

We met, and were one in the heart’s desire.

Together we came, through the wintry gloam,

To the little old house by the cross-ways, home;

And crossed the threshold, and kindled the fire.

5. A Catalpa Tree on West Twelfth Street

       by Amy Clampitt

While the sun stops, or

seems to, to define a term

for the indeterminable,

the human aspect, here

in the West Village, spindles

to a mutilated dazzle—

niched shards of solitude

embedded in these brownstone

walkups such that the Hudson

at the foot of Twelfth Street

might be a thing that’s

done with mirrors: definition

by deracination—grunge,

hip-hop, Chinese takeout,

co-ops—while the globe’s

elixir caters, year by year,

to the resurgence of this

climbing tentpole, frilled and stippled

yet again with bloom

to greet the solstice:

What year was it it over-

took the fire escape? The

roof’s its next objective.

Will posterity (if there

is any) pause to regret

such layerings of shade,

their cadenced crests’ trans-

valuation of decay, the dust

and perfume of an all

too terminable process?

6. I Would Like to Describe

       by Zbigniew Herbert

I would like to describe the simplest emotion

joy or sadness

but not as others do

reaching for shafts of rain or sun

I would like to describe a light

which is being born in me

but I know it does not resemble

any star

for it is not so bright

not so pure

and is uncertain

I would like to describe courage

without dragging behind me a dusty lion

and also anxiety

without shaking a glass full of water

to put it another way

I would give all metaphors

in return for one word

drawn out of my breast like a rib

for one word

contained within the boundaries

of my skin

but apparently this is not possible

and just to say — I love

I run around like mad

picking up handfuls of birds

and my tenderness

which after all is not made of water

asks the water for a face

and anger

different from fire

borrows from it

a loquacious tongue

Funny Poems about Fire

Fire can also be a source of humor and lightheartedness. Interesting poems about fire, offer a playful take on the theme and can bring a smile to our faces.

1. The Fire Inside

       by John Gondolf

Today for lunch I dined on some Tex-Mex cuisine,

jalapeno topped enchiladas and refried beans;

a favorite here in Texas, that can’t be denied,

but this afternoon I am battling the fire inside.

Washed it down with a margarita and wedge of lime,

it was very soothing and delicious at the time.

It gave my head a little buzz and made me cross-eyed,

but now my gut is suffering from this fire inside.

I used to have no trouble eating this spicy food,

but now it causes burning in my stomach to intrude.

And yet I do not worry for in my desk does hide

a jar of Tums to relieve me from this fire inside.

2. Fire on Board

       by Paul Callus

Forever is on maiden trip

Bad luck starts abusing with ardent grip

There is a fire burning on deck

Could now become an instant wreck

Quick action is needed: scuttle the ship!

3. Cease Fire

       by Vince Suzadail Jr.

Suddenly without warning

I saw you in the sky

You were on a mission

I thought I would cry

You have no heart you filthy coward

As you flew over our town

I am a peaceful man

I couldn’t shoot you down

No one is safe as you fly by

No man, no woman, no child

You hit your targets consistently

Even the statue at church was defiled

Your aim is uncanny as you hit your targets below

Precision bombing from afar

You now have gotten on my last nerve

You do it every time I wax my car.

4. The Fire Chief

       by Sara Kendrick

The fire chief was in a great big tight

Was holding his cheeks with all his might

At the bus station did stop

Cost a dime to use the pot

Now his drawers a pitiful sight  

Long ago my husband worked as a fireman.

They were on a trip to get some schooling.

On the way the chief had a sudden attack of diarrhea.

They stopped at the bus station but they charged a dime to use the

Facilities. He did not have a dime ___well you know the rest of the


5. Liar, Liar Pants on Fire

       by Paul Schneiter

Billy was ten and building a rocket.

He claimed no one his age could top it.

The day came for the firing

But a blunder in the wiring

Made it end up in Billy’s pants pocket.

6. Wood

       by Patrick Cornwall

The storm gathered and the wind howled

Clouds were dark and ominous hinting of rain

He loved the rain and the wind

The branches swayed to their rhythm

He gathered sticks for the fire and the cold

The lights flickered as thunder cracked

There was nothing like a warm fire

And the limbs doing the cha cha

The fire wood was stacked by the door

He was a deepened romantic and the fire

He loved her most under the covers

He loved to show her his wood

She loved when he put it in the fire

That was what he missed most

7. Caution – Fireworks

       by Perry Campanella

E-Z Glo Punk, Lightning Flash,

TNT Devices will burst, do crash

Southern Night, Piccolo Petes

are hard to beat…

I like hand held Sparklers, Tanks

flashing fountains, Solar Flare

Six to #20 Gold I have to share,

no incidence, no burns, thanks…

Whistles blow, fountains glow,

pop’n sounds, entire sky all aglow

I love those colors, high and low

trails eched onto my retina

inspired me to let ya know

Now you close both eyes

in pitch dark, what a surprise

for you to see, right there

darkness, absolutely  anywhere

beautiful trails of lights in motion

8. Fire Trucks and Love

       by Sunshine Smile

Deep love

Real love

Heart feels like will crack

Hearts burning for each other

Do not call the fire truck

This fire can not be extinguished with water

Let it burn forever and ever

9. Great Balls of Fire

       by Jan Allison

Sir Henry was smoking cheroot

Stark naked in his birthday suit

But he did something rash

When he’s flicking his ash

His pubes are no longer hirsute!

Long Poems about Fire

For those who want to fully immerse themselves in the theme, long poetries about fire offer a rich and rewarding reading experience.

1. The Cold Is Too Cold for My Little Warmth

       by Ciderilion

All come near, kin and kindred.

The snow has fallen, all come pray

For a winter with the sun’s rays still beaming.

We were once of summers loving gaze.

Now, Night reaching longer than Day,

And the shadow have reached its darkest zenith.

Our breath is starting to lose its color,

Nearly dragged into the breath of the cold.

Stay strong, my brethren and brides of the summer.

That which we have fought for have vanquished

By the guise of winter’s cold-searing blade.

Could this winter extinguish my spark?

And this, the fire that which seethes within my heart,

Will it be frozen away, gone,

More swiftly than its kindling?

All I’ve ever felt when the leaves start falling

Until the first of the flowers bloom,

A darkness creeping inward into my chest,

With winter’s fingers crawling into my furnace.

The cold is too cold for my little warmth.

It is all too late, my kin and kindred,

My flame was quenched

By the chill smothering of the frigid air.

Beware, before it is all too late.

Garner your crops and cattle,

Prepare firewood to keep your vigor ablaze,

And gird yourselves with the heat of one another.

Form a panoply of the summer

Against the wretched death of winter.

But I do not say the inevitable:

This will all lie on snow in vain,

It is all too late, my kin and kindred.

The cold is too cold for my little warmth.

2. Arsonist

       by Anonymous

I like watching things burn

I like the light that slowly warms my pupils

It reminds me of my father and mother

Who now rest in an urn

The relationship rests in violence

My father was an alcoholic who would always hit me

His thoughts of his son rested in imaginary defiance

My mother would show love

But only for the affection of drugs

When it came to me, her only son

Only simple blinks and shrugs

One night light and grey clouds sucked me from my dreams

When I opened my door, I only heard screams

Around me I saw light

That rested on black wood, yet still it was bright

And when I went down stairs, what I saw was raw fact

My parents had burned, the flames had attacked

But strangely my feelings were not of concern

It was instead a realization

That I like watching things burn.

3. The Great Fires

       by Jack Gilbert

Love is apart from all things.

Desire and excitement are nothing beside it.

It is not the body that finds love.

What leads us there is the body.

What is not love provokes it.

What is not love quenches it.

Love lays hold of everything we know.

The passions which are called love

also change everything to a newness

at first. Passion is clearly the path

but does not bring us to love.

It opens the castle of our spirit

so that we might find the love which is

a mystery hidden there.

Love is one of many great fires.

Passion is a fire made of many woods,

each of which gives off its special odor

so we can know the many kinds

that are not love. Passion is the paper

and twigs that kindle the flames

but cannot sustain them. Desire perishes

because it tries to be love.

Love is eaten away by appetite.

Love does not last, but it is different

from the passions that do not last.

Love lasts by not lasting.

Isaiah said each man walks in his own fire

for his sins. Love allows us to walk

in the sweet music of our particular heart.

Love is a fire that burns unseen . . .

Love is a fire that burns unseen,

a wound that aches yet isn’t felt,

an always discontent contentment,

a pain that rages without hurting,

a longing for nothing but to long,

a loneliness in the midst of people,

a never feeling pleased when pleased,

a passion that gains when lost in thought.

It’s being enslaved of your own free will;

it’s counting your defeat a victory;

it’s staying loyal to your killer.

But if it’s so self-contradictory,

how can Love, when Love chooses,

bring human hearts into sympathy?

4. Kitten and Falling Leaves

       by William Wordsworth

That way look, my Infant, lo!

What a pretty baby-show!

See the kitten on the wall,

Sporting with the leaves that fall,

Withered leaves—one—two—and three—

From the lofty elder-tree!

Through the calm and frosty air

Of this morning bright and fair,

Eddying round and round they sink

Softly, slowly: one might think,

From the motions that are made,

Every little leaf conveyed

Sylph or Faery hither tending,—

To this lower world descending,

Each invisible and mute,

In his wavering parachute.

—But the Kitten, how she starts,

Crouches, stretches, paws, and darts!

First at one, and then its fellow

Just as light and just as yellow;

There are many now—now one—

Now they stop and there are none

What intenseness of desire

In her upward eye of fire!

With a tiger-leap half way

Now she meets the coming prey,

Lets it go as fast, and then

Has it in her power again:

Now she works with three or four,

Like an Indian conjurer;

Quick as he in feats of art,

Far beyond in joy of heart.

Were her antics played in the eye

Of a thousand standers-by,

Clapping hands with shout and stare,

What would little Tabby care

For the plaudits of the crowd?

Over happy to be proud,

Over wealthy in the treasure

Of her own exceeding pleasure!

 ‘Tis a pretty baby-treat;

Nor, I deem, for me unmeet;

Here, for neither Babe nor me,

Other play-mate can I see.

Of the countless living things,

That with stir of feet and wings

(In the sun or under shade,

Upon bough or grassy blade)

And with busy revellings,

Chirp and song, and murmurings,

Made this orchard’s narrow space,

And this vale so blithe a place;

Multitudes are swept away

Never more to breathe the day:

Some are sleeping; some in bands

Travelled into distant lands;

Others slunk to moor and wood,

Far from human neighborhood;

And, among the Kinds that keep

With us closer fellowship,

With us openly abide,

All have laid their mirth aside.

 Where is he that giddy Sprite,

Blue-cap, with his colors bright,

Who was blest as bird could be,

Feeding in the apple-tree;

Made such wanton spoil and rout,

Turning blossoms inside out;

Hung—head pointing towards the ground—

Fluttered, perched, into a round

Bound himself, and then unbound;

Lithest, gaudiest Harlequin!

Prettiest Tumbler ever seen!

Light of heart and light of limb;

What is now become of Him?

Lambs, that through the mountains went

Frisking, bleating merriment,

When the year was in its prime,

They are sobered by this time.

If you look to vale or hill,

If you listen, all is still,

Save a little neighboring rill,

That from out the rocky ground

Strikes a solitary sound.

Vainly glitter hill and plain,

And the air is calm in vain;

Vainly Morning spreads the lure

Of a sky serene and pure;

Creature none can she decoy

Into open sign of joy:

Is it that they have a fear

Of the dreary season near?

Or that other pleasures be

Sweeter even than gaiety ?

 Yet, whate’er enjoyments dwell

In the impenetrable cell

Of the silent heart which Nature

Furnishes to every creature;

Whatsoe’er we feel and know

Too sedate for outward show,

Such a light of gladness breaks,

Pretty Kitten! from thy freaks,—

Spreads with such a living grace

O’er my little Dora’s face;

Yes, the sight so stirs and charms

Thee, Baby, laughing in my arms,

That almost I could repine

That your transports are not mine,

That I do not wholly fare

Even as ye do, thoughtless pair!

And I will have my careless season

Spite of melancholy reason,

Will walk through life in such a way

That, when time brings on decay,

Now and then I may possess

Hours of perfect gladsomeness.

—Pleased by any random toy;

By a kitten’s busy joy,

Or an infant’s laughing eye

Sharing in the ecstasy;

I would fare like that or this,

Find my wisdom in my bliss;

Keep the sprightly soul awake,

And have faculties to take,

Even from things by sorrow wrought,

Matter for a jocund thought,

Spite of care, and spite of grief,

To gambol with Life’s falling Leaf.

5. Cherry- Tree Inn

       by Henry Lawson

The rafters are open to sun, moon, and star,

Thistles and nettles grow high in the bar —

The chimneys are crumbling, the log fires are dead,

And green mosses spring from the hearthstone instead.

The voices are silent, the bustle and din,

For the railroad hath ruined the Cherry-tree Inn.

Save the glimmer of stars, or the moon’s pallid streams,

And the sounds of the ‘possums that camp on the beams,

The bar-room is dark and the stable is still,

For the coach comes no more over Cherry-tree Hill.

No riders push on through the darkness to win

The rest and the comfort of Cherry-tree Inn.

I drift from my theme, for my memory strays

To the carrying, digging, and bushranging days —

Far back to the seasons that I love the best,

When a stream of wild diggers rushed into the west,

But the `rushes’ grew feeble, and sluggish, and thin,

Till scarcely a swagman passed Cherry-tree Inn.

Do you think, my old mate (if it’s thinking you be),

Of the days when you tramped to the goldfields with me?

Do you think of the day of our thirty-mile tramp,

When never a fire could we light on the camp,

And, weary and footsore and drenched to the skin,

We tramped through the darkness to Cherry-tree Inn?

Then I had a sweetheart and you had a wife,

And Johnny was more to his mother than life;

But we solemnly swore, ere that evening was done,

That we’d never return till our fortunes were won.

Next morning to harvests of folly and sin

We tramped o’er the ranges from Cherry-tree Inn.

The years have gone over with many a change,

And there comes an old swagman from over the range,

And faint ‘neath the weight of his rain-sodden load,

He suddenly thinks of the inn by the road.

He tramps through the darkness the shelter to win,

And reaches the ruins of Cherry-tree Inn.

Modern Poems about Fire

Contemporary poets have continued to explore the theme of fire in new and exciting ways. Modern works offer a fresh perspective on the enduring power of fire.

1. Fire

       by Anonymous

On 2020 July-August was a very awful time

Lots of stuff was happening here

It’s so big, even the president has had to hear

There was covid and it was a very hot summer

Thunder struck

But not the kind with luck

It struck some houses

Causing so many fires everywhere

And so much sadness and despair

People had to leave their houses

And yet on tv we saw them burn

2020 just took a big turn

I was one of the lucky

I didn’t leave

But this year could get better, I just need to believe

And imagine things could get better

2. Movement the Dance

       by Jackie Hope

movement the dance

blending with space

fire non-existent by lack of oxygen

yet —

night illuminated by her swimming

through the atmosphere

choking her with stardust

where flames don’t burn

except to make glow

all that pulses

where —

fire and light

fire through night

fire and words

make fire bright

3. Burn Baby Burn

       by Anonymous

elemental is fire’s burn

heat, an essential constituent

destruction almost expected

yet there’s many imports of hot

hot as a bathing beauty

so the cowboy in chaps

stunning is a man in a tux

flaming’s a rock-star’s costume

steaming’s death to the lobster


fire is essential to Marshmallow S’mores

4. A Dance of Opposites

       by Nuno ft Ferreira

Ice meets fire, a dance begins,

like a moth to the flame, passions and sins.

Heat and cold, clash and collide,

tempestuous ride, tumultuous side.

Fire burns hot, flames leap high,

ice stands firm, unyielding, dry.

Balance struck, harmony found,

opposite matter, together unbound.

5. Camp Fires & Love

       by C. J. Krieger

The very first time

I looked into your eyes

And the whimsical way

That you smiled at me

While I watched you peeing

In the woods

I fell in love

6. Foyer Striptease

       by Ashley Cannuli

Frost branches from the corners

of our dusty window pane

I watch trees bow to the setting sun

through frosty ice vignette

wind whips whispered apologies

as passersby complain

door hinges groan in protest

at your breathless silhouette

Hastily stomp snow-coated boots

on the worn metal threshold

toe to heel, wiggle down to socks

to quickly kick aside

hat, scarf, your foyer striptease

coat, socks, leaves a trail of clothes

Feinberg will simply have to wait –

dogeared, I set my book nearby

Frozen fingers fumble for

the warmth of my bare chest

tip toe to the kitchen

twirling in a giggled shiver

as I select our favorite mugs,

French roast steeps in the press

two for me, one for you

teaspoon stirs in swirls of sugar

Muttering over the fireplace

bribing the fire to glow

fire faintly flickers in reply

I beckon you to follow

hands clutching piping coffee

cocooned in our favorite throw

rest your head upon my chest

in our cozy winter reverie

7. Angry Embers

       by Anonymous

What did you expect?

You stirred embers once cooled by past lovers.

You desired warmth, passion, wild love on fire;

But soon, you tired of the heat.

You wanted the coolness of water when once you craved fire.

You tried to smother the fire you stoked,

But I became a wildfire.

I hissed and shrieked to be heard,

You screamed back in angry indignation;

Neither of us could outdo the other.

So we burned the life we built around us;

Until there was nothing left but angry embers,

Smoldering here,

Flaring there,

Slowly fading into cool oblivion as if “we” never existed.

8. Snapped

       by Anonymous

I burnt this place to smithereens

Can’t save me now by any means

Watch it crumble

Let it sink

You have pushed me to the brink

Of all extinctions

9. Rays of Light Falling on Me from Above

       by Maria Elena Vicente

In a field of delusion, I stand, feeling grandiose

looking upon the scarlet sky, long to disturb the calm

Resurrection of Zeus, think I am, here to make storm

Hoping tomorrow, my hurricane shall make landfall

Speed of wind is increasing, it’ll be your downfall

Thunderbolt my defense, I’ll hurl my fireball

You stole my ego, now I’ll take revenge, ravage and burn

Turn you into Medusa, behead you, with no pardon

How foolish you were, now lost a god, you had me so close.

In a field of verity, now I stand, feeling common

Sky looking deep blue, not even god, can disturb the rest

Simple man, I am, hope to lay next to you in our nest

Mad I had become, must now let go my self-pettiness

Reclaim your strayed heart, I must, god may be my witness

Fallen angel you be, in heaven, betrayed your watchers

Now that you’ve lost your wings, I’m happy you can’t fly above

Chained to me you are, must stay down here granting me your love

Come back, I’ll promise, to keep your true face hidden.

All around me, white and pink blossoms, won’t let you deform

Doves hovering above, beg you to return and stay as my guest

Next to me three lilies are blooming, just wanted to inform

Rays of light now falling on me from above, feeling blessed.

three lilies symbolize reunion

10. Haridim Spiritual

       by Yam Yefet

Don’t fear God

if he wanted you to be afraid

he’d give you a reason.

Respect food,

you are alive thanks to it.

Honor your belief,

It is your water.

Do as you speak

to be sound and pure

Poems about Fire That Rhyme

Rhyming poems of fire can be especially fun and memorable, and there are many examples of poems about the fire that use rhyme to great effect.

1. Fire on Your Finger

       by Tony Jolley

Fire on your finger,

Fire in your eye,

Fire in your spirit,

Fire that won’t die.

Fire in the bare bones of being,

Fire to uphold what’s right,

Fire in the heart of darkness,

Fire to fuel Love’s light.

Fire to burn but not consume,

Fire to learn and not assume,

Fire to live and give living room,

Fire to love and sing her tune.

2. The Fireside

       by G.F. Bradby

In the ember’s drowsy glow

Fiery figures come and go,

Quiver into crimson light,

Now a goblin, now a knight,

While the winter wind makes moan

And the clock ticks on and on.

Snatches of mysterious rhymes,

(Fairy lore of nursery times)

Long imprisoned in the brain,

Leap to life and sing again;

Dreams forgotten with the waking,

Thoughts that vanished in the making,

Fancies, memories and moods,

Crowded hours and solitudes,

Ancient fears and old distresses,

Childhood’s wanderings and guesses –

Everything that one remembers

Makes a picture in the embers,

Grows to clearness, flickers, flashes

Burns a moment, then is ashes.

3. Upon The Hearth The Fire is Red

       by J.R.R. Tolkien

Upon the hearth the fire is red,

Beneath the roof there is a bed;

But not yet weary are our feet,

Still round the corner we may meet

A sudden tree or standing stone

That none have seen but we alone.

Tree and flower and leaf and grass,

Let them pass! Let them pass!

Hill and water under sky,

Pass them by! Pass them by!

Still round the corner there may wait

A new road or a secret gate,

And though we pass them by today,

Tomorrow we may come this way

And take the hidden paths that run

Towards the Moon or to the Sun.

Apple, thorn, and nut and sloe,

Let them go! Let them go!

Sand and stone and pool and dell,

Fare you well! Fare you well!

Home is behind, the world ahead,

And there are many paths to tread

Through shadows to the edge of night,

Until the stars are all alight.

The world behind and home ahead,

We’ll wander back to home and bed.

Mist and twilight, cloud and shade,

Away shall fade! Away shall fade!

Fire and lamp, and meat and bread,

And then to bed! And then to bed!

4. The Firewood Poem

       by Lady Celia Congreve

Beech wood fires are bright and clear

If the logs are kept a year,

Chestnut’s only good they say,

If for logs ’tis laid away.

Make a fire of Elder tree,

Death within your house will be;

But ash new or ash old,

Is fit for a queen with crown of gold

Birch and fir logs burn too fast

Blaze up bright and do not last,

it is by the Irish said

Hawthorn bakes the sweetest bread.

Elm wood burns like churchyard mould,

E’en the very flames are cold

But ash green or ash brown

Is fit for a queen with golden crown

Poplar gives a bitter smoke,

Fills your eyes and makes you choke,

Apple wood will scent your room

Pear wood smells like flowers in bloom

Oaken logs, if dry and old

keep away the winter’s cold

But ash wet or ash dry

a king shall warm his slippers by.

5. Burn

       by Matthew Descovia

All that wish to oppose me

Are cast away into the flames

Secrets that could destroy worlds

Ideas that cause irreversible trauma

empowered by the many questionable

Reflections of one self! No, elements

Of the nature wields a force to fear!

Tread carefully, one must not wonder aimlessly in curiosity.

Never doubt, the subtle benefits of your own self exploration.

The course that this journey takes many turns in surprise.

It will remind you in the very signs

Movement that never sleeps

With the passing of time.

Listen to the soul of angels singing in the wind.

the earth always speaks to you…

6. Peace Within the Flames of Randomness

       by Anonymous

Flickering yellow, burnt orange intermingling,

wafting swirls surrounding cedar wood flaming,

crackling aromas mixed with shadows, casting

cares into an open fire of burning chaos.

Poems about Fire for Children

Fire can be a scary topic for children, but it can also be an opportunity to teach them about the power and importance of safety. These poems about fire for kids can help them learn about fire in a fun and engaging way.

1. The Rather Sad Story With the Box of Matches

       by Anonymous

Little Paula was alone at home;

The parents were both out.

As she now jumped around the room

With a light heart and singing and carrying on,

She saw suddenly before her stands

A matchbox, nice to look at.

“Ah,” she says, “ah, how lovely and fine!

This must be an excellent toy.

I’ll strike a match against the box,

Just as Mother has often done.”

And Minz and Maunz, the cats,

Raise up their paws.

They menace with the paws:

“The father has forbidden it!

Me-ow! me-oh! me-ow! me-oh!

Leave it alone! Otherwise you’ll light yourself on fire!”

Little Paula doesn’t listen to the cats;

The match burns high and bright,

It flickers jolly, crackles loud,

Just like you can see in the picture.

Little Paula however pleased herself a lot,

And jumped back and forth in the room.

Yet Minz and Maunz, the cats,

Raise up their paws.

They menace with the paws;

“The mother has forbidden it!

Me-ow! me-oh! me-ow! me-oh!

Throw it away! Otherwise you’ll light yourself on fire!”

Uh-oh! the flame catches the dress,

The apron burns, it lights all over.

It burns the hand, it burns the hair,

It burns the whole child, even.

And Minz and Maunz, they scream

Quite pitifully, the two of them:

“Come on! Come on! Who will quickly help?

The whole child is on fire!

Me-ow! me-oh! me-ow! me-oh!

Help! the child has set herself on fire!”

All is burnt, whole and quite,

The poor child, with her skin and hair;

Only a handful of ash remains,

And both shoes, pretty and fine.

And Minz and Maunz, the little ’uns,

They sit there and cry:

“Me-ow! me-oh! me-ow! me-oh!

Where are the poor parents? where?”

And their tears flow

Like a little brook in the meadows.

2. The Sad Tale of the Match-Box

       by Mark Twain’s

Paulinchen was alone at home,

The parents they down-town did roam.

As she now through the room did spring,

All light of heart and soul a-wing,

She saw there suddenly burst on sight

The things wherewith one strikes a light.

“Oho,” says she, “my hopes awake;

Ah, what a plaything these will make!

I’ll rake them on the wall, h’hoo!

As oft I’ve seen my Mother do.”

And Mintz and Mountz, the catties,

Lift up their little patties,

They threaten with their pawses:

“It is against the lawses!

Me-yow! Me-yo! Me-yow! Me-yo!

You’ll burn yourself to ashes, O!”

Paulinchen heard the catties not,

The match did burn both bright and hot,

It crackled gaily, sputtered free,

As you it in the picture see.

Paulinchen waltzed and whirled and spun,

Near mad with joy for what she’d done.

Still Mintz and Mountz, the catties,

Lift up their little patties,

They threaten with their pawses:

“It is against the lawses!

Me-yow! Me-yo! Me-yow! Me-yo!

Drop it or you are ashes, O!”

But ah, the flame it caught her clothes,

Her apron, too; and higher rose;

Her hand is burnt, her hair’s afire,

Consumèd is that child entire.

And Mintz and Mountz wild crying,

The while the child was frying,

“Come quick!! they said, “O Sire,

Your darling child’s afire!

Me-yow! Me-yo! Me-yow! Me-yo!

She’s cinders, soot, and ashes, O!”

Consumed is all, so sweet and fair,

The total child, both flesh and hair,

A pile of ashes, two small shoes,

Is all that’s left, and they’re no use.

And Mintz and Mountz sit sighing,

With breaking hearts and crying,

Me-yow! Me-yo! Me-yow! Me-yo!

How could we let the parents know!”

While round that ash-pile glowing

In brooks their tears keep flowing.

3. Catch the Fire

       by Sonia Sanchez

Sometimes I wonder:

What to say to you now

in the soft afternoon air as you

hold us all in a single death?)

I say—

Where is your fire?

I say—

Where is your fire?

You got to find it and pass it on.

You got to find it and pass it on

from you to me from me to her from her

to him from the son to the father from the

brother to the sister from the daughter to

the mother from the mother to the child.

Where is your fire?  I say where is your fire?

Can’t you smell it coming out of our past?

The fire of living…not dying

The fire of loving…not killing

The fire of Blackness…not gangster shadows.

Where is our beautiful fire that gave light

to the world?

The fire of pyramids;

The fire that burned through the holes of

slave ships and made us breathe;

The fire that made guts into chitterlings;

The fire that took rhythms and made jazz;

The fire of sit-ins and marches that made

us jump boundaries and barriers;

The fire that took street talk sounds

and made righteous imhotep raps.

4. A Refusal to Mourn the Death, By Fire, Of A Child in London

       by Dylan Thomas

Never until the mankind making

Bird beast and flower

Fathering and all humbling darkness

Tells with silence the last light breaking

And the still hour

Is come of the sea tumbling in harness

And I must enter again the round

Zion of the water bead

And the synagogue of the ear of corn

Shall I let pray the shadow of a sound

Or sow my salt seed

In the least valley of sackcloth to mourn

The majesty and burning of the child’s death.

I shall not murder

The mankind of her going with a grave truth

Nor blaspheme down the stations of the breath

With any further

Elegy of innocence and youth.

Deep with the first dead lies London’s daughter,

Robed in the long friends,

The grains beyond age, the dark veins of her mother,

Secret by the unmourning water

Of the riding Thames.

After the first death, there is no other.

5. Autumn Fires

       by Robert Louis Stevenson

In the other gardens

And all up the vale,

From the autumn bonfires

See the smoke trail!

Pleasant summer over

And all the summer flowers,

The red fire blazes,

The grey smoke towers.

Sing a song of seasons!

Something bright in all!

Flowers in the summer,

Fires in the fall!

6. The Magpie Wheel

       by Robert Holtom

It is a four-bar gate with carved insignia, like ivy creeper, and through the bars you look, you hesitate, because the train was slow and now you’re late. But it doesn’t matter, and you know that too, so enter and walk the pocked tarmac road, go quick or go slow, just know you are home, and all of you is welcome.

There, down in the field to your left, just before the wood, is Aelfi’s well, dug deep, dug true, in memory of a soul we lost too soon, and just next door the orchard of almond trees, who knew they grew in such a clement breeze, a seed not a nut wrapped in a shell encased in a hull, a metaphor, perhaps, for the soul, or the heart, something protected, something sweet but vulnerable to frost and heat, and onwards till you see the valley, that glorious vista, how you have missed it, fertile as the future, old as yore, and there in the distance, Hay Tor.

Left down the path bordered by bushes and bramble till the gap in the hedge, ‘twixt alder and sedge, only two gates now, a field in between, and there we are, all of us you have seen. We are a circle of people in a circle of stones, woman, trans, male, child, elder and younger, you take off your shoes, the grass tender, and you take my hand, to gaze at the centre, upon that small pyre where we make our offerings to the Children’s Fire.

A pledge of our council, makeshift as we are, to undo the trauma and hold all in our arms, to never do harm seven generations hence, to be the people we have been waiting for, looking to four directions, and three more, our feet on the earth, our skin touched by air, our bodies an ocean beating with fire, this is the world we hope to inspire, as we each hold a stick and place it in turn amongst the flames so it can burn and transform locked potential to heat, intent to deed, willing the world, god speed, as our hulls fall away and our shells crack, the seed exposed to grow again, just as the world turns.

Clouds chase the sun as rays chase the rain as we make our pledges again and again, lest we forget the promise we make, a world with no giving and just one of take, but remember we must, be it sunlight or frost, to keep the fire burning so no more children are lost.

Poems about Fire and Passion

Fire is often associated with passion and desire, and many poets have used the theme to explore the intensity of human emotions. These poems offer a powerful exploration of this connection.

1. The Fire of Passion

       by Shadow Of Light

You burn within me

Like the fire of passion

When I see you

My eyes smile once again

My lips long for you

My heart pounds within my chest

I think of you

Every day

Every night

Ever minute that I can

Your kisses – gentle.

Your character – sweet.

Your body – demanding.

I love you.

2. I Am Like Fire, And I Will Burn

       by Marisa Donnelly

I am like fire. I am wild and emblazoned with color,

every step, every sound billowing up around me.

When I speak, the words leave my lips

already sizzling. When I stand, the ground shakes

beneath me, both fearful and proud of my feet.

I am like fire. My hands spark energy. One touch

and the world around me comes alive.

When my fingertips graze over skin,

goosebumps appear. When I hold a hand in mine,

I share silent stories. I create warmth

with a single kiss.

I am like fire. Like light. Everything I embrace grows hot,

grows bold, grows brighter. I bring passion

into places where there is none. I turn flickers

into flames. There is a fierceness in my fingers, love

in my lungs that I breathe out with tenacity, with purpose.

I am like fire. Something you long to touch, to experience

but are in constant awe of the way I move and grow and become.

Something you must only admire from a distance as I rise.

I am like fire. I can destroy or save, ignite

or keep a body breathing when the temperature falls too low.

I choose not to set the things I touch into chaos.

I choose to heat, to calm.

I am like fire. And I burn for the things I love,

for the strength I feel in my chest, for the beauty I see so wild

and alive all around me. I will burn for places, for passion.

For memories that have been and will come.

I will burn, bringing light into darkness. An energy

that cannot, will not be extinguished.

3. Fire of Passion

       by R J Schwartz

I can see how your eyes sparkle with delight when we first touch one another.

I am certain that you can see the very same picture when you look at me.

For many days I have been longing to touch the smooth skin of your cheek.

I have yearned to feel your heart beating as you press yourself against me.

My hands have so wished to touch your hair and all of its silkiness.

My ears cry out for the sound of your voice whispering soft words of love.

Tonight I am thankful that we shall be together in body as well as in spirit.

Even though I know, my mind must still tell me that this is not another dream, but is reality.

I feel like I am floating in a sweet heavenly bath of wispy clouds and amber sunlight.

I know that I must be dreaming for no man deserves to behold such a wonderful sight.

Yea, a most magical dream, where I have been given every wish a man could wish

And it comes in the form of a woman, so beautiful, so radiant, and so mysterious.

Come closer my love and let me feel the taste of your lips upon mine.

Touch my skin and feel comforted by its warmth as your wrap your arms around me.

Sit with me for a moment and do not take your eyes away from mine,

For I fear a turn my head or yours, and you might vanish and float back to heaven.

Let us both take the hand of one another and sit for a moment by the fire.

We can watch as the flames jump and dance their way across the logs

The softness of their intoxicating glow will bend the visions from our eyes

Sight will become intensified, more powerful than ever before felt by either of us.

It will become but a tool of a far greater and much more enriching experience

Watch closely and the colors of our world will reveal themselves to you.

Watch the reflection that they leave forever imprinted on the glass.

Your picture is etched in my mind the very same way.

A vision of ever changing beauty carefully drawn on the canvas of my soul,

A work of art, more worthy than anyone shall ever display.

Kiss me Shannon. Take my face in your hands and press your lips to mine.

Hold me like it was the essence of life itself that you were cradling in your arms.

For I must confess: My love for you runs deeper than any river might flow.

No wall shall ever stand in my way whence I am trying to find my way to you.

Nor shall any man stand in my pathway to return from a journey to your side.

Know this now and forever: I love you more than I love life itself and I shall always.

Sleep with a comfortable silence knowing that I shall be by your side protecting you.

Give yourself to me totally and completely and know that I will never fail you.

For you are the mate my soul has been promised to and has finally found.

4. Fire and Passion

       by Anonymous

As he made love to her

The sky burned with fire

The foundations melted

From burning desire

The sun melted

Them into one energy

Flowing together

In slow motion tenderly

Volcanoes erupted

All over the world

Hot springs gushed

Oceans boiled

Lava spewed

From their kiss

The atmosphere

Bred bliss

He touched her soul

He heard her purr

Time collapsed

As he made love to her.

5. A Flame of Fire

       by Pragati Chauhan

“Like the fire burns the wood shavings,

reducing each to a pile of dust.

The silence when the world around you crumbles down,

kills you as much.

When thousands of mortals surround you,

but no one dares to speak up,

so it doesn’t shake their ground.

And the silence of good souls,

kills you more than the sympathy of hollow men,

who follow the crowd.

The fire tenderly burns in your heart,

killing the expectations you had with others.

And instead of charring your soul,

it feels a little warmer,

You can breathe without holding your heart,

and gut to your mouth.

Suddenly it feels a lot lighter, knowing you have taken re-birth.

The fire burns until it makes your soul weep,

by cleansing all the haunting memories.

And like the ash,

it sets you free to soar high,

until you rest in peace.”

Poems about Fire Burning

Whether it’s a wildfire in the forest or a small candle flame, fire has the power to mesmerize and hypnotize us. These burning fire poems offer a lyrical and mesmerizing exploration of this phenomenon.

1. Fire

       by Emily Dickinson

Ashes denote that fire was;

Respect the grayest pile

For the departed creature’s sake

That hovered there awhile.

Fire exists the first in light,

And then consolidates, —

Only the chemist can disclose

Into what carbonates.

2. Wood Smoke

       by Herbert Jones

One evening as the dusk came softly down,

Walking along a road outside the town

I watched the sunset burning low and red,

And heard the leaves a-rustling, dry and dead,

Harried by breezes to their wintry bed.

By chance I passed a fire beside the way,

With small flames leaping in their impish play.

Bright in the dimness of the dying day;

And as the wind blew smoke across my face

Around me all the Bush rose up apace.

The great dim forest blotted out the farms

And close around the red fire flung its arms,

Canoe and portage, tent and camping place,

Ghosts in the wood smoke, lingered for a space,

Then passed, and with them went a comrade’s face.

3. The Bonfire

       by Ruby Archer

Ho—gather the pine-cones

And build a great fire,

And fling all your sorrows

To burn on the pyre.

Bethink you of legends of mining or deer,

And make the night merry with idle good cheer.

These little brown wizards Have spells in their bones.

Their crackle is laughter, So pile on the cones.

But bright eyes are near you with sparkle and dart.

Beware, lest the pine-cones enkindle a heart!

4. The Fireside

       by Christopher Pearse Cranch

With what a live intelligence the flame

Glows and leaps up in spires of flickering red,

And turns the coal just now so dull and dead

To a companion — not like those who came

To weary me with iteration tame

Of idle talk in shallow fancies bred.

From dreary moods the cheerful fire has led

My thoughts, which now their manlier strength reclaim.

And like some frozen thing that feels the sun

Through solitudes of winter penetrate,

The frolic currents through my senses run;

While fluttering whispers soft and intimate

Out of the ruddy firelight of the grate

Make talk, love, music, poetry in one.

5. By the Fire-Place

       by Arthur Franklin Fuller

When the days are getting shorter,

When the nights are long and chill,

With my cares and work forgotten,

And the whole world hushed and still—

Then I love to make a fire,

Watch the flamelets dance and race,

For things are mighty cozy, by the fire-place.

I love to have a friend or two

To make the deal complete

Shoes off, cocked on an extry chair,

We toast our weary feet;

A bowl of pop-corn sittin’ near,

While time slips by apace,

Why folks, it’s awful cozy, by the fire-place.

6. At the Fireside

       by John Davis Long

At nightfall by the firelight’s cheer

My little Margaret sits me near,

And begs me tell of things that were

When I was little, just like her.

Ah, little lips, you touch the spring

Of sweetest sad remembering;

And hearth and heart flash all aglow

With ruddy tints of long ago!

I at my father’s fireside sit,

Youngest of all who circle it,

and beg him tell me what did he

When he was little, just like me.

Poems about Fire and Ice

Fire and ice are often seen as opposing forces, but they can also be complementary. These poems explore the interplay between these two elements and the impact they can have on our lives.

1. Fire and Ice

       by Robert Frost

Some say the world will end in fire,

Some say in ice.

From what I’ve tasted of desire

I hold with those who favor fire.

But if it had to perish twice,

I think I know enough of hate

To say that for destruction ice

Is also great

And would suffice.

2. Amoretti 30

       by Edmund Spenser

My Love is like to ice, and I to fire:

How comes it then that this her cold so great

Is not dissolved through my so hot desire,

But harder grows the more I her entreat?

Or how comes it that my exceeding heat

Is not allayed by her heart-frozen cold,

But that I burn much more in boiling sweat,

And feel my flames augmented manifold.

3. Fire & Ice

       by Anshula

Latticed ebony entwines a motif on alabaster skin-

a delicate tea light tucked in a Turkish lamp.

Gangly limbs fall like austere cliff sides:

in perpendicular ice walls from bare shoulders

unmindful of April’s windy grace.

Is it her willowy waist or slender gait

that make her the cynosure of all eyes?

Do the carbon contoured eyes

with exaggerated wings her ivory define?


it’s the deliberate ambiguity of her steel

and fire that doesn’t lie.

Final Thoughts

Fire is a powerful force that has inspired poets and writers for centuries. It’s an element that can both destroy and create, and it’s often associated with passion, desire, and intensity.

Poems on fire can be both beautiful and haunting, and they offer a unique insight into the human experience.

From famous works by Shakespeare and Frost to modern pieces by contemporary poets, there’s a rich diversity of poems for fire that capture the essence of this element.

Whether you’re looking for inspiration or simply want to immerse yourself in the beauty of language, these poems are sure to ignite your imagination.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *