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Daily Archives: November 5, 2017

Bonfire Night

firefirexxx

As we celebrate bonfire night
Let us remember when it all began
Guy Fawkes tried to blow up Parliament
The government of the day was not a fan

His attempt to destroy failed
For his treachery he was hung
Today we all celebrate bonfire night
With everyone having lots of fun

With fireworks and sparklers
Jumping jacks, bangers and mushy peas
The fire burning lightening up the sky
See the rockets flying over the trees

The smell of bonfire toffee
Fireworks displaying so bright
The fire well alight now
Lightning up the darkest night

Remember to be careful
For fireworks can burn and maim
Let your parents light them all
Keeping all away from hurt and pain

Malcolm G Bradshaw

The Bonfire at Night: A poem by Enid Blyto YOUR FAVOURITE POEM – Famous Poet

Bonfire, you’re a merry fellow
With your flames of red and yellow,
And your cheery cracks and pops-
You gobble up the old bean-props,
The pea-sticks, withered plants, and all
The leaves blown down beside the wall.
Your never-ending spires of smoke
(The colour of a pixy’s cloak)
Go mounting to the starry sky,
And when the wind comes bustling by
Oh, what a merry game you play,
And how you pop and roar away!
Your heart is red, your smoke is thick,
On, pile on leaves and branches quick!
Let’s dance around and shout and sing,
Oh, Bonfire, you’re a LOVELY thing!

From the Enid Blyton Poetry book, 1934.

 YOUR FAVOURITE POEM SENT IN BY YOU WHAT’S YOURS

Light the Blue Touchpaper

 

ffffffffffffffffff

Carefully Guy carried the taper

and placed it against the pyre.
Ample amounts of petrol vapour

rapidly ignited the fire.

“Grand Commander Thrrp”, said the underling
avoiding its superior’s stare,
“They’ve lit another beacon. This time an intriguing
place they call Weston-Super-Mare.”
“They must be aimed at us. I see no other design.”
was the Grand Commander’s view.
“Our primary goal is first contact. This is a sign
it’s important to these creatures too.”
“Fire up the translator. Initialise the empathy device.
Dress yourself in Earthling wear.
Ask the computer to determine appropriate technology advice.
Then land us in Weston-Super-Mare.”

Guy stood, reigniting the taper.

The evening was on track.
With care he lit the blue touch paper

and then he stood well back

“They’re firing upon us!” the underling exclaimed.
“Report,” ordered his superior.
“Multiple miniscule missiles. Not particularly well aimed
but a few have hit the exterior.”
“Take evasive manouvres and get us out of here.
I want bombing altitude yesterday.”
The underling pressed a few buttons, trembling in fear,
knowing how the Earthlings would pay.
But he finally said, looking at the planet soon to be no more,
“It may only be the leaders that are errant.”
“Nonsense,” said the commander, “We’ve seen their sort before.
They should have forced a change of government.”
©Adam Rulli-Gibbs 2002 – 2006

A doggy message for keeping safe

Guy Fawkes

It’s just one night

A burning desire

To burn Guy Fawkes

On a blazing fire,

Celebrations light up the sky

Colourful fireworks shoot up high

Blues, Pinks, Greens and red

Celebrating each year of his death,

Around the fire hundreds stare

Watching the embers fade

Quietly putting Guy Fawkes to rest

Abbe Cutforth

 

 

 

 

Bonfire Night

As we celebrate bonfire night

Let us remember when it all began

Guy Fawkes tried to blow up Parliament

The government of the day was not a fan

 

His attempt to destroy failed

For his treachery he was hung

Today we all celebrate bonfire night

With everyone having lots of fun

 

With fireworks and sparklers

Jumping jacks, bangers and mushy peas

The fire burning lightening up the sky

See the rockets flying over the trees

 

The smell of bonfire toffee

Fireworks displaying so bright

The fire well alight now

Lightning up the darkest night

 

Remember to be careful

For fireworks can burn and maim

Let your parents light them all

Keeping all away from hurt and pain

 

                                                        Malcolm G Bradshaw

SCARY MARY

 

Scary Mary would like to be pretty

Someone that was gorgeous and lush

But alas she was born with a face

With wrinkles all over her mush

Her hair was all in a tangle

With a wart on the end of her nose

She is pretty disgusting

From her head down to her toes

She though I will make a potion

To make me a beautiful bell

But alas forgot the words

To create her powerful spell

So speaking the words that she thought

Throwing in larks tongue and essence of goat

Next morning she looked in the mirror

Realising she’d turn into a bloke

Knowing she could not  turn her self back

She rushed out of the room in a hurry

Then she changed her name by de pole

Now she goes under the name Murray

Malcolm  Bradshaw
WE ALL HOPE YOU HAVE A SAFE BONFIRE NIGHT

Bonfire night memories

It’s bonfire night and  the sky
is full of crackles and bangs,
brightly coloured lights.
The  damp November air;
full of gunpowder and
the smell of fires
and  smoke
everywhere!
.
Oh how I love this atmosphere.
If only I had  someone to tell about
‘our penny for the guy’
or the terrific bonfires  we built.

I have the honour of lighting it,
with lighted match,  hands shaking,
searching for dry paper.
Then little fires start to build  inside;
the first smell of smoke
as wood starts to light,
this is  just the beginning alright.
‘It’s lit! it’s lit!’ everyone shouts.

I  remember the flames,
that licked the sleepers dry,
swirling bright  yellow flames,
leaping higher and higher,
‘can’t you just feel that  fire!’
The heat on my face,
‘ look my coat is steaming!’

Excited  faces all around,
Dad saying ‘be careful son.
‘Don’t get too near that  fire
or that air bomb that didn’t go off,
it could explode at any  second!’
Don’t worry Dad, I’m alright.
(never felt better in fact)
This is definitely the best night,
It is just so brilliant it is.

Oh if only I was still a kid,
I’d be outside right now with my friends,
eyes wide open trying to take it all in,
ears primed; ready for  the big bangs,
deciding which firework to light next.
Not sitting here  enjoying my memories
of November the fifth’s gone by—
Just sat at my  computer, writing this.

by  Simon Icke. copyright  2009

more of Simon’s poem can be found on the Tring People website:
http://www.tringpeople.co.uk/Poetry-group-Tring-People/story-12982944-detail/story.html
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