On a cold December evening

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An exquisite log fire crackled in the inglenook;
marmalade orange flame
and epoch of memories lit the otherwise dark
and dreary living roomβ€”
I am intrigued,
for a poem begs to be read on his beckoning lips:
of woods, quiet wars and feral seas.

 

 

 

Photo credits: Fabian Perez, 1967 | Embrace series, Pinterest

Linda is our hostess today at dVerse and the word is “Inglenook.” Come join us! πŸ’

Posted for Quadrille #118 @ dVerse Poets Pub

36 Replies to “On a cold December evening”

  1. You’ve fired up (sorry) my imagination to learn more of your romantic hero for whom: ‘ a poem begs to be read on his beckoning lips:/of woods, quiet wars and feral seas.’ And you’ve used enjambment so dramatically in ‘ lit the otherwise dark/and dreary living roomβ€”’ I love how this can be read two ways. Beautifully written.

  2. Sanaa, Sanaa, Sanaa, you great poetess, you never fail to make me feel so utterly like a puddle as you write this warmth that melts my icicle heart:

    “marmalade orange flame”

    This is lovely especially. I also quite loved these few lines:

    “I am intrigued,
    for a poem begs to be read on his beckoning lips:
    of woods, quiet wars and feral seas.”

    That desperation and hope, all in contrast to the serenity of warmth coalesced in winter by the fire. I can imagine the narrator curled up by that fire, reading their own poetry to the shadows. And in the flames that dance, they feel the quiet build, they feel the isolation a moment recalls when alone. Beautifully, beautifully penned.

  3. “Beautifully penned” indeed. Your last line is killer good. I wonder though about “quiet wars” in our new age, both cold and quiet perhaps, computer battlefields. Your romantic soul has found the balance for the prompt; kudos.

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