It was a tight squeeze but Harry felt he could make it. If he could only find a decent toehold somewhere it would allow him to adjust his belt just enough to get past the last bend. It did strike him, as he swallowed another mouthful of soot, that trying to impress his date by offering to clean her chimney may have worked in Dicken’s time but was probably a mistake in Manhatten in 2011. Still, who looks at the fireplace when they’re cleaning the chimney… as his dotty Great Aunt used to say.
The fireplace had an eerie glow emitting from it. It was warm and friendly, open arms to a cold and desolate winter eve, but a harsh burning like it wanted to consume everything and everyone. The flames jumped and spun spitting out embers and ash.
I left you by the warmth of the fireplace
eighteen weeks ago
next to not yet opened presents and old egg nog cartons
frozen with the times we forgot to spend together
only now do I know the importance of the holidays
but don’t forget .
It’s to hot here
and not the kind of hot where you want to stay
overly sympathetic to burns and scars of others around you
just shut up and listen
we’re not telling stories because we want your pity
we just want to share
listen–
and be silent
The embers were fading in the fireplace. Ash was layered an inch deep. The firewood was slowly cracking and breaking apart. The embers were dying. Here alone, the old man stared and stared, taking in the walls stained black with soot and remembered years and years when things didn’t seem to be as complicated and times when things were easier.
oh i’d love to have a fireplace in my house i have not yet had. a spacious one-story house, wooden floors, and a fireplace to warm myself in winter…that’s my dream.
She sat in front of the fireplace, smiling softly at the fire. She was snuggled in a blanket with her boyfriend, sitting behind her.
“Merry Christmas, love.” she murmured as she handed him a well wrapped box.
“Thanks, sweetheart. I love you. Merry Christmas.” he kissed her full on the lips and smiled at her.
They simply sat in each others’ presence and stared at the lit Christmas tree, revelling in the feeling.
We have our fireplace in the TV room. I love going down there to watch movies durring the winter time. Its also right next to our tree. A lot of memories have to do with the fire place and i want one in my next home.
In the warm/cld winter in front of the fireplace. This is nice, and very christmassy. Santa claus is coming to town, and is probably going to burn in the chimney. The wood burning at many thousand degrees is a beutiful reaction, chemistry hand in hand with poetry
i miss having a fireplace in my house.
every christmas, when it was chilly, we’d light a fire and sit by the tree and watch a christmas movie.
now, it’s hot. and there’s no fireplace. and no more family.
that fireplace was a threshold for memories.
it was made of a brick, red as you like, that was older than you could imagine.
the fireplace had watched the families sit before it for years, it knew more stories than it could tell in a years time.
it was her favorite place in their grand house.
The fireplace is blazing
Oh wait that must be in my dreams,
Cause I live in the Caribbean,
Where we have no need for fireplaces
But often wish for snow, especially in July and August
When it’s so hot that not wearing clothes is not an option
Because its so hot that your skin sticks to itself
She sits down on the oak floor, avoiding her boyfriend, who’s made a place for her on the loveseat. “Babe..” he tries, but she shushes him. She’s never one to hold grudges for too long; she pulls a small present out from her robe and hands it to him. Surprised, he opens the lid. “Oh.” he holds up a pair of socks, lit by the light of the dim light of the fireplace, that at the same time illuminates her joking grin that’s so large on her face, it causes him to grin, too.
Sitting beside the fire, she sipped on her warmed mulled wine. The sound of Christmas carols played quietly in the background. She looked toward the kitchen and tried hard to summon the energy to head in there to prepare for the coming feast.
Would anyone really object to baked beans on toast – she could decorate the fork with tinsel?
Warmth. Everlasting, crackling, the hearth of the fireplace made him wonder if he could keep this as his home, finally. If he could actually stay this time. Would he be able to? Would he allow himself to open up enough to let in another, to bring another part of family?
He didn’t want to. He hasn’t been able to for so long, but that made the thought even more tempting. And he could never really ignore the warm bundle of emotions settled in the pit of his stomach, produced by the rumbling flames.
My fireplace has never been used. Just like the majority of functional things in my house. We have an entire room of pretty things that have never been used. A couch that’s never been sat on, and my favorite blanket which has never been snuggled. I tried to use it as a child, and my mom sent me to my room without dinner. That’s when it first hit me that I was an item in that room, and that I’m just meant to be pretty, but never touched.
A place to gather around for family time. It gives you warmth. This is great for family time and having fun. PERFECT for holidays. Drink coffee next to it, or tea.
“Seeing you sitting there,” she paused. The whole scene seemed a cliche, the fireplace and flickering light giving it an unreal quality. She felt like an observer to a story someone else was creating or even to an eternal story, one that had been told and re-told since time began.
The fireplace burned brightly in the corner of the room, flames dancing excitedly. There was a somewhat cliche bearskin rug in front of it, and leather chairs on either side. “Looks straight out of a movie,” I commented smugly. I was beginning to feel more comfortable, but I didn’t want him to know that.
I sat near the fireplace, trying to get warm. Callum sat next to me and smiled.
“That was fun,” I said, watching the fire that was reflected in his eyes.
“I still don’t believe you never ran through the snow before.” he laughed, stroking my cheek.
“Well there’s a first time for everything.” I answered, smiling up at him.
WE sparked 9 blunts under the christmas tree by the fire place. Even though this may not seem that funny, the irony got to us hard midway through blunt number 7.
The warmth from the light kept his mind on track, he thought of one thing as the light grew brighter, the fire catching all the wood, as the the light faded from his eyes, he slipped into the last ever memory he had of her. He wished he’d died, he wondered why it wasn’t the last memory of his life.
She was sitting beside him on the couch, her feet in his lap. She looked so beautiful in the soft light, her eyes shone with a sparkle alive with the dancing flames. He looked to her and said, “Always, I always am unable to tell you… You know?”
“What do you mean? What do you want to tell me?” She asked him playfully, almost teasing him.
“I mean, I like y… No, I love you…” He shied away from her piercing gaze.
“Aww” Chuckling at him, she asked, “Why don’t you look at me, and tell me what you love about me?”
Like a different person, but not quite, he slowly caressed her feet, lightly kissing them, “I love your feet, yes I do. I love your legs,” He spoke in whispers between the kisses he planted on her. “I love your soft thighs, I could rest my head there all day, looking up at you laugh. I love your soft belly. I love these soft hands. I love every bit of you…” He whispered last as he began to kiss her softly. “You know how long I’ve wanted to tell you that I love you?”
“No. Tell me” Her voice slipped out as a caress to his ears, as from closed eyes her lips tried to find his, as he toyed with the space between them.
“I’ve loved for much of the little while I know you, since the day I realized you are the one I want by my side, when I look besides”
Kiss.
“You I miss when I see my empty hand. You who’s taste I’ll remember in my mouth”
Kiss.
“You I want in my hands here, forever.”
Kiss. She tried to get up, she saw her phone ring.
“Don’t go. Don’t leave please”
Kiss.
“I love you so much, you make me feel like the world belongs to us. Mine to win”
Kiss.
“Don’t go”
He looked into her eyes, that sparkled with the dancing flames from the fireplace. He looked at her one last time.
The thing I think of most since our one and only kiss…finally, after two and a half years of pretending to look the other way was your fragrance. Even though he missed you completely and I got away, we’ll never forget the fireplace scene.
Later on, they were indeed conspiring, though they weren’t exactly dreaming by the fire. They were concocting. The two lovers’ romp through the snow had very much matched with the lyrics of the charming Christmas song, but by now they were looking at blueprints. Snow catapults. Towering turrets of a winter snowkeep. Ice elves serving as their warriors.
“Now this,” Billy said to his girlfriend Tina as they curled up by the hearth, “is a real winter wonderland.”
The heat they felt sat before the fire left them solemn. What a memory! Memory: what a marvel! They remembered the patriarch of their tiny family, now dead, cried a bit in the heat, marvelling at the fact that, despite all the tears amid the crackling and the closeness of their bodies, not one of them could recall what he had looked like when he cried, or remember whether he had liked sitting by the fire when he did.
I walked into the room to my dog sleeping next to the roaring fire that had been kindled in the fireplace for some undefined reason; we never had fires in that thing unless it was for a special occasion. And then I saw it- I saw HIM- down on one knee with a little black box in his hand.
I sat in the flat scoop fireplace shovel and wept, my tears making tiny pocks in the ash. O fire-out cold December! O father-death, sunlight as thin as skim milk!
It evokes feeling of appreciation, and makes me think of my family. I used to love sitting by the fireplace with my dad and sister always near by getting mad at me for taking up all the heat, but regardless it is definitely a happy place.
She was never one for the sweet sentimentality of the holiday, chestnuts roasting and pretending to like her family, but even Ms. Grinch had to admit there was something hypnotic about watching the wrapping paper burn in the fireplace
It was a tight squeeze but Harry felt he could make it. If he could only find a decent toehold somewhere it would allow him to adjust his belt just enough to get past the last bend. It did strike him, as he swallowed another mouthful of soot, that trying to impress his date by offering to clean her chimney may have worked in Dicken’s time but was probably a mistake in Manhatten in 2011. Still, who looks at the fireplace when they’re cleaning the chimney… as his dotty Great Aunt used to say.
The fireplace had an eerie glow emitting from it. It was warm and friendly, open arms to a cold and desolate winter eve, but a harsh burning like it wanted to consume everything and everyone. The flames jumped and spun spitting out embers and ash.
A fire burned in the fireplace
Warming my cold hands
Safe and cozy
Or so I thought
What a lie that was
okabe
I left you by the warmth of the fireplace
eighteen weeks ago
next to not yet opened presents and old egg nog cartons
frozen with the times we forgot to spend together
only now do I know the importance of the holidays
but don’t forget .
It’s to hot here
and not the kind of hot where you want to stay
overly sympathetic to burns and scars of others around you
just shut up and listen
we’re not telling stories because we want your pity
we just want to share
listen–
and be silent
The embers were fading in the fireplace. Ash was layered an inch deep. The firewood was slowly cracking and breaking apart. The embers were dying. Here alone, the old man stared and stared, taking in the walls stained black with soot and remembered years and years when things didn’t seem to be as complicated and times when things were easier.
oh i’d love to have a fireplace in my house i have not yet had. a spacious one-story house, wooden floors, and a fireplace to warm myself in winter…that’s my dream.
She sat in front of the fireplace, smiling softly at the fire. She was snuggled in a blanket with her boyfriend, sitting behind her.
“Merry Christmas, love.” she murmured as she handed him a well wrapped box.
“Thanks, sweetheart. I love you. Merry Christmas.” he kissed her full on the lips and smiled at her.
They simply sat in each others’ presence and stared at the lit Christmas tree, revelling in the feeling.
We have our fireplace in the TV room. I love going down there to watch movies durring the winter time. Its also right next to our tree. A lot of memories have to do with the fire place and i want one in my next home.
In the warm/cld winter in front of the fireplace. This is nice, and very christmassy. Santa claus is coming to town, and is probably going to burn in the chimney. The wood burning at many thousand degrees is a beutiful reaction, chemistry hand in hand with poetry
i miss having a fireplace in my house.
every christmas, when it was chilly, we’d light a fire and sit by the tree and watch a christmas movie.
now, it’s hot. and there’s no fireplace. and no more family.
that fireplace was a threshold for memories.
it was made of a brick, red as you like, that was older than you could imagine.
the fireplace had watched the families sit before it for years, it knew more stories than it could tell in a years time.
it was her favorite place in their grand house.
The fireplace is blazing
Oh wait that must be in my dreams,
Cause I live in the Caribbean,
Where we have no need for fireplaces
But often wish for snow, especially in July and August
When it’s so hot that not wearing clothes is not an option
Because its so hot that your skin sticks to itself
Dec 24… 4 am.. it’s cold … I long to sit by the fireplace and warm my body. But who the helll is gonna get out of bed.
She sits down on the oak floor, avoiding her boyfriend, who’s made a place for her on the loveseat. “Babe..” he tries, but she shushes him. She’s never one to hold grudges for too long; she pulls a small present out from her robe and hands it to him. Surprised, he opens the lid. “Oh.” he holds up a pair of socks, lit by the light of the dim light of the fireplace, that at the same time illuminates her joking grin that’s so large on her face, it causes him to grin, too.
Sitting beside the fire, she sipped on her warmed mulled wine. The sound of Christmas carols played quietly in the background. She looked toward the kitchen and tried hard to summon the energy to head in there to prepare for the coming feast.
Would anyone really object to baked beans on toast – she could decorate the fork with tinsel?
Warmth. Everlasting, crackling, the hearth of the fireplace made him wonder if he could keep this as his home, finally. If he could actually stay this time. Would he be able to? Would he allow himself to open up enough to let in another, to bring another part of family?
He didn’t want to. He hasn’t been able to for so long, but that made the thought even more tempting. And he could never really ignore the warm bundle of emotions settled in the pit of his stomach, produced by the rumbling flames.
My fireplace has never been used. Just like the majority of functional things in my house. We have an entire room of pretty things that have never been used. A couch that’s never been sat on, and my favorite blanket which has never been snuggled. I tried to use it as a child, and my mom sent me to my room without dinner. That’s when it first hit me that I was an item in that room, and that I’m just meant to be pretty, but never touched.
A place to gather around for family time. It gives you warmth. This is great for family time and having fun. PERFECT for holidays. Drink coffee next to it, or tea.
“Seeing you sitting there,” she paused. The whole scene seemed a cliche, the fireplace and flickering light giving it an unreal quality. She felt like an observer to a story someone else was creating or even to an eternal story, one that had been told and re-told since time began.
The fireplace burned brightly in the corner of the room, flames dancing excitedly. There was a somewhat cliche bearskin rug in front of it, and leather chairs on either side. “Looks straight out of a movie,” I commented smugly. I was beginning to feel more comfortable, but I didn’t want him to know that.
The chimney in my bedroom
Carried up smoke from our woodstove
And for six years nobody believed
That this could be affecting my asthma
Also, on an unrelated note
How does one hang stockings by
a fireplace if they don’t have one
And if you have a fire outside
Is the forest a fire place too?
Or is it just that one brick encampment?
I sat near the fireplace, trying to get warm. Callum sat next to me and smiled.
“That was fun,” I said, watching the fire that was reflected in his eyes.
“I still don’t believe you never ran through the snow before.” he laughed, stroking my cheek.
“Well there’s a first time for everything.” I answered, smiling up at him.
WE sparked 9 blunts under the christmas tree by the fire place. Even though this may not seem that funny, the irony got to us hard midway through blunt number 7.
The warmth from the light kept his mind on track, he thought of one thing as the light grew brighter, the fire catching all the wood, as the the light faded from his eyes, he slipped into the last ever memory he had of her. He wished he’d died, he wondered why it wasn’t the last memory of his life.
She was sitting beside him on the couch, her feet in his lap. She looked so beautiful in the soft light, her eyes shone with a sparkle alive with the dancing flames. He looked to her and said, “Always, I always am unable to tell you… You know?”
“What do you mean? What do you want to tell me?” She asked him playfully, almost teasing him.
“I mean, I like y… No, I love you…” He shied away from her piercing gaze.
“Aww” Chuckling at him, she asked, “Why don’t you look at me, and tell me what you love about me?”
Like a different person, but not quite, he slowly caressed her feet, lightly kissing them, “I love your feet, yes I do. I love your legs,” He spoke in whispers between the kisses he planted on her. “I love your soft thighs, I could rest my head there all day, looking up at you laugh. I love your soft belly. I love these soft hands. I love every bit of you…” He whispered last as he began to kiss her softly. “You know how long I’ve wanted to tell you that I love you?”
“No. Tell me” Her voice slipped out as a caress to his ears, as from closed eyes her lips tried to find his, as he toyed with the space between them.
“I’ve loved for much of the little while I know you, since the day I realized you are the one I want by my side, when I look besides”
Kiss.
“You I miss when I see my empty hand. You who’s taste I’ll remember in my mouth”
Kiss.
“You I want in my hands here, forever.”
Kiss. She tried to get up, she saw her phone ring.
“Don’t go. Don’t leave please”
Kiss.
“I love you so much, you make me feel like the world belongs to us. Mine to win”
Kiss.
“Don’t go”
He looked into her eyes, that sparkled with the dancing flames from the fireplace. He looked at her one last time.
The thing I think of most since our one and only kiss…finally, after two and a half years of pretending to look the other way was your fragrance. Even though he missed you completely and I got away, we’ll never forget the fireplace scene.
Anyway, back to glances and turnaways.
The fire roared and crackled as it licked the flesh in her soul. Tickled. Painfully real and dreamy at the same time. All is lost, all is not lost.
The fire burns brightly. The sparks hop and bang on the floor. The smoke seeps and billows around the room.
I snuggle next to his warm body, and his arm wraps around me. We look over to the flickering flames, and I know I love him.
Safety.
Later on, they were indeed conspiring, though they weren’t exactly dreaming by the fire. They were concocting. The two lovers’ romp through the snow had very much matched with the lyrics of the charming Christmas song, but by now they were looking at blueprints. Snow catapults. Towering turrets of a winter snowkeep. Ice elves serving as their warriors.
“Now this,” Billy said to his girlfriend Tina as they curled up by the hearth, “is a real winter wonderland.”
The heat they felt sat before the fire left them solemn. What a memory! Memory: what a marvel! They remembered the patriarch of their tiny family, now dead, cried a bit in the heat, marvelling at the fact that, despite all the tears amid the crackling and the closeness of their bodies, not one of them could recall what he had looked like when he cried, or remember whether he had liked sitting by the fire when he did.
fireplace
the fire crackles.
i am warmer.
the snow is cold.
but the fire is warmer
fireplace
the fire is orange.
the bricks are red.
the wood is brown.
the noise hurting my ears!
Santa will burn his self!
his elfs will tell him.
it’s okay!
I walked into the room to my dog sleeping next to the roaring fire that had been kindled in the fireplace for some undefined reason; we never had fires in that thing unless it was for a special occasion. And then I saw it- I saw HIM- down on one knee with a little black box in his hand.
I sat in the flat scoop fireplace shovel and wept, my tears making tiny pocks in the ash. O fire-out cold December! O father-death, sunlight as thin as skim milk!
It evokes feeling of appreciation, and makes me think of my family. I used to love sitting by the fireplace with my dad and sister always near by getting mad at me for taking up all the heat, but regardless it is definitely a happy place.
She was never one for the sweet sentimentality of the holiday, chestnuts roasting and pretending to like her family, but even Ms. Grinch had to admit there was something hypnotic about watching the wrapping paper burn in the fireplace
We could hear the scratching pine of the pigeon
Stuck, soot choked and fluttered above fireplace
The fireplace is light.
The fireplace is warm.
The fireplace is nice this time of year.
Oh how I love to roast marsh mellows this time of year.