A little fun for Guy Fawke’s night. (For those of my readers in other countries, who may not know, the British have a tradition to burn stuff and let off fireworks every November 5th in memory of a bloke called Guy Fawkes who, in 1605, attempted to blow up the Houses of Parliament and assassinate King James using gunpowder. The plot was foiled however at the eleventh hour.)
This poem I wrote two years ago in my head on the walk home from a firework display on bonfire night.
The idea with this poem was that every other line had a word which rhymed with sky as that is where most of the action takes place on November 5th. This version has a couple of amendments and an added verse. Enjoy 🙂
Ode To November 5th
Gunpowder smoke lingers
In the night air so dry
Hot dog and baked potato odours
Mix with warm apple pie.
Sprinkles of glittering fireworks
Shoot across the arid sky
‘Oohs’ and ‘aahs’ echo
As the crowds collectively sigh.
Flames flicker on the bonfire,
Smouldering ashes rise up high,
They dance off on the November breeze
Cooling as they fly.
The burning effigy of Fawkes centre stage
Reminds us of a Guy,
Who once tried to blow up Parliament
And make the gentry fry.
A long born out tradition
To seemingly never die,
Another 5th of November gone,
’til next year: Aurevoir, farewell, goodbye.