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.
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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.
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.”
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
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
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
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.
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
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
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.
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.
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
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
night illuminated by her swimming
through the atmosphere
choking her with stardust
where flames don’t burn
except to make glow
all that pulses
fire and light
fire through night
fire and words
make fire bright
3. Burn Baby Burn
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
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,
Slowly fading into cool oblivion as if “we” never existed.
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.
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.
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
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
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?)
Where is your fire?
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
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
As he made love to her
The sky burned with fire
The foundations melted
From burning desire
The sun melted
Them into one energy
In slow motion tenderly
All over the world
Hot springs gushed
From their kiss
He touched her soul
He heard her purr
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.
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
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.
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.