Black Beauty


SOLSC – Day 17

Being out shoveling these last few days and being cold because of the blowing wind made me stop and think about when I was kid.  The cold didn’t bother me then because I knew if I needed a respite from it I could head to me grandmother’s house.  She lived down the street from us.

Of course there was the warmth of her smile, listening to the broken English she spoke and always something to eat.  Her warmth was matched by the warmth of the big black cast iron stove that dominated her kitchen.  This is a tribute to her prize possession.

Black Beauty


Proud and Majestic

Beckoning but foreboding.


A massive cold iron frame

encasing a flaming heart.


Dispelling the cold of a winter’s night

with a rosy glow.


A behemoth to a toddler,

a comforting giant to an adult.


Welcoming some to a warm bosom

while making others shrink away with a fiery stare.


A presence, filling the room

with a aura that emanates throughout the house.


A cool attitude signals a want;

a cozy warmth says. “All is well.”


Filling the air with delectable aromas

that make the mouth water.


Imparting a distinct taste to baked foods

that nothing else matches.


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24 responses to “Black Beauty

  1. Fascinating how the cold weather brought memories and inspired a poem. I admire your word choice in this poem.

  2. What a special memory the cold has brought out. My grandma had a wood-fired stove for a while too. There’s nothing like it.

  3. Great poem! Thanks for sharing such a wonderful memory.

  4. That brings back fond memories of frosty windows and warm houses A lovely poem.

  5. Judy C.

    I can just picture that biack behemoth residing in your Grandma’s kitchen, I can smell the aromas of foods cooked and the warmth that it gave off. Happy thoughts on a cold day!

  6. Wonderful memories, natural for a poem. Glad you remembered and shared.

  7. Just beautifully done, Bob – you have a gift for poetry!

  8. Lovely piece. Isn’t it amazing how an inanimate object can hold magical pieces of our lives? Thank for sharing the stove…for me it was the Hot Air Grill in the house where we warmed ourselves in winter by standing on it as our slips blew upward.

  9. lindabaie

    I love your poem, brings back more than one stove in my life. One grandmother cooked with one, another just had the big pot-bellied one in the living room for heat. Special memories!

  10. What a wonderful memory to find shoveling snow. I love the personification in it, especially the line “a cool attitude signals a want”.

  11. Such a delightful memory you have of your grandmother and the black cast iron stove.

  12. Such a poignant post from you today. The introduction was lovely and the poem is very moving. You really captured the feeling of being a little boy in your grandmother’s kitchen and her pride in her beautiful stove. I wish she could read the poem you wrote.

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