“There may be a great fire in our soul, yet no one ever comes to warm himself at it, and the passers-by see only a wisp of smoke.”
“Absence diminishes small loves and increases great ones,
as the wind blows out the candle and fans the bonfire”
| An effigy of Guy Fawkes, burnt on a Guy Fawkes Night-- November 5th in England--to celebrate the failure of his assassination attempt against King James I. |
Midweek Motif ~ Bonfires
Bonfires are used in celebrations around the world including Australia, India, Ireland, Israel, Japan, Poland, Nordic countries, Turkey, and Slavic countries.
Is anything more fascinating than fire? Anything more devastating? Anything more Holy or Profane?
Your Challenge:
Build a poem around a bonfire.
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| I remember end-of-summer bonfires of leaves and dead wood which cleared the land and made a centerpiece for marshmallows and ghost stories. |
The Bonfire by Robert Frost
OH, let’s go up the hill and scare ourselves,
As reckless as the best of them to-night,
By setting fire to all the brush we piled
With pitchy hands to wait for rain or snow.
Oh, let’s not wait for rain to make it safe.
The pile is ours: we dragged it bough on bough
Down dark converging paths between the pines.
Let’s not care what we do with it to-night.
As reckless as the best of them to-night,
By setting fire to all the brush we piled
With pitchy hands to wait for rain or snow.
Oh, let’s not wait for rain to make it safe.
The pile is ours: we dragged it bough on bough
Down dark converging paths between the pines.
Let’s not care what we do with it to-night.
. . . . (Read the rest HERE at PoemHunter.com)
Dreams in War Time BY AMY LOWELL
. . . .
IV
I painted the leaves of bushes red
And shouted: “Fire! Fire!”
But the neighbors only laughed.
“We cannot warm our hands at them,” they said.
Then they cut down my bushes,
And made a bonfire,
And danced about it.
But I covered my face and wept,
For ashes are not beautiful
Even in the dawn.
. . . .
(Read the rest HERE at The Poetry Foundation.)
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(Next week's Midweek Motif is Swimming.)
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