Fire-Logs
NANCY HANKS dreams by the fire;
Dreams, and the logs sputter,
And the yellow tongues climb.
Red lines lick their way in flickers.
Oh, sputter, logs.
Oh, dream, Nancy.
Time now for a beautiful child.
Time now for a tall man to come.
(2 votes, average: 3.50 out of 5)Similar poems:
- Blizzard Notes I DON’T blame the kettle drums-they are hungry. And the snare drums-I know what they want-they are empty too. And […]...
- New Feet EMPTY battlefields keep their phantoms. Grass crawls over old gun wheels And a nodding Canada thistle flings a purple Into […]...
- Prayers After World War WANDERING oversea dreamer, Hunting and hoarse, Oh daughter and mother, Oh daughter of ashes and mother of blood, Child of […]...
- Child The young child, Christ, is straight and wise And asks questions of the old men, questions Found under running water […]...
- Pods PEA pods cling to stems. Neponset, the village, Clings to the Burlington railway main line. Terrible midnight limiteds roar through […]...
- I Am The People, The Mob I AM the people the mob the crowd the mass. Do you know that all the great work of the […]...
- Picnic Boat SUNDAY night and the park policemen tell each other it Is dark as a stack of black cats on Lake […]...
- A. E. F THERE will be a rusty gun on the wall, sweetheart, The rifle grooves curling with flakes of rust. A spider […]...
- Shagbark Hickory IN the moonlight under a shag-bark hickory tree Watching the yellow shadows melt in hoof-pools, Listening to the yes and […]...
- Valley Song YOUR eyes and the valley are memories. Your eyes fire and the valley a bowl. It was here a moonrise […]...
- Bricklayer Love I THOUGHT of killing myself because I am only a bricklayer and you a woman who loves the man who […]...
- Let Love Go On LET it go on; let the love of this hour be poured out till all the answers are made, the […]...
- Portrait of a Motor Car IT’S a lean car… a long-legged dog of a car… a gray-ghost eagle car. The feet of it eat the […]...
- The Has-Been A STONE face higher than six horses stood five thousand Years gazing at the world seeming to clutch a secret. […]...
- Blue Island Intersection SIX street ends come together here. They feed people and wagons into the center. In and out all day horses […]...
- Mill-Doors YOU never come back. I say good-by when I see you going in the doors, The hopeless open doors that […]...
- Do You Want Affidavits? THERE’S a hole in the bottom of the sea. Do you want affidavits? There’s a man in the moon with […]...
- Memoranda THIS handful of grass, brown, says little. This quarter mile field of it, waving seeds ripening in the sun, is […]...
- The Mayor of Gary I ASKED the Mayor of Gary about the 12-hour day and the 7-day week. And the Mayor of Gary answered […]...
- Potato Blossom Songs and Jigs RUM tiddy um, tiddy um, tiddy um tum tum. My knees are loose-like, my feet want to sling their selves. […]...
- Hats HATS, where do you belong? what is under you? On the rim of a skyscraper’s forehead I looked down and […]...
- The Red Son I LOVE your faces I saw the many years I drank your milk and filled my mouth With your home […]...
- Onion Days MRS. GABRIELLE GIOVANNITTI comes along Peoria Street Every morning at nine o’clock With kindling wood piled on top of her […]...
- Timber Wings THERE was a wild pigeon came often to Hinkley’s timber. Gray wings that wrote their loops and triangles on the […]...
- Localities WAGON WHEEL GAP is a place I never saw And Red Horse Gulch and the chutes of Cripple Creek. Red-shirted […]...
- Style STYLE go ahead talking about style. You can tell where a man gets his style just As you can tell […]...
- Knucks IN Abraham Lincoln’s city, Where they remember his lawyer’s shingle, The place where they brought him Wrapped in battle flags, […]...
- Haunts THERE are places I go when I am strong. One is a marsh pool where I used to go with […]...
- Dreams in the dusk DREAMS in the dusk, Only dreams closing the day And with the day’s close going back To the gray things, […]...
- Brass Keys JOY… weaving two violet petals for a coat lapel… painting on a slab of night sky a Christ face… slipping […]...