My Poem “Bonfire Nights”

I remember the nights
of the fifth of November…
I remember the times
standing around, feeling the heat,
and basking in the glow of a bonfire…
I remember being a child
and being completely hypnotised
by the flickering of the flames
and by the sound of the cracking
of the furnace that burned before my eyes…
I remember watching the giant behemoth
that brought light to the darkness
and warmed the heart of my family and I…
I remember being a child and reciting to myself
the rhyme “remember, remember, the fifth of November”,
and having my imagination filled with images
of “gunpowder, treason, and plot”,
and watching Guy Fawkes being burned in effigy…
it has been too long since I stood
and looked into the flames of a fire,
but I still remember and I will never forget
all those bonfire nights that were filled
with sights, sounds, smells,
memories and dreams that will forever
fuel the inspiration and the fire
of my occasional child-like wants and desires.

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My Poem ‘Gunpowder’

There is a full-moon shining;
there are a million stars above my head twinkling;
there is the unmistakable smell of distant fires;
there is another indistinguishable aroma,
taste, sensation, in the air,
that invigorates me-
races the blood in my veins,
enlarges my heart, expands my lungs-
and that is what everyone, everywhere,
on this night, here,
which was to be Guy Fawkes’ modus operandi
a long time ago, on a similar night,
on the fifth of November:
the powder that helps propel a bullet,
that which is contained and which explodes
within a firework-
the one and only, gunpowder.

The black sky is coloured with every colour;
flashes and bangs, light and sound,
enthrall, surprise, awe-inspire, constantly
with little-to-no pause, in rapid-frequency.
Adults look up, children grin with excitement-
everyone wants to be outside, even in the cold,
so that they can feel the rush of being awestruck,
and so that they can remember, experience,
and know what is important.

A brilliant expression of celebration;
a phenomenal invention that has changed the world,
more than anything anyone may be able to mention;
a visceral spectacle that you can see and hear
that does not come much louder-
the explosive mixture at the other end of a fuse
that sends rockets into the sky,
and hearts and imaginations souring into the great unknown;
a magical dust that should always be handled with care;
that is in the air at this time of the year,
before, and beyond, the time of the midnight hour-
the defining chemistry, and DNA of a firework:
gunpowder.

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Remember remember the 5th of November