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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

My Amazing 4


My babies are beautiful in every way
They keep me on my toes 24 hours a day,
A new experience we share day to day
At night awake wide eyed I lay
A smile on my face those memories,

                              Not a soul could take away


A great school report,
The mummy’s day card with their own thought,
Their first nursery rhymes we taught,
Those colds we’ve nursed that they’ve caught
The cute first shoes we bought,

I’m the luckiest lady right here,
A smile upon my face from ear to ear
They’re my babies my pride and joy,
They’re my life my first born, a beautiful baby boy
Now a mum to four I want to squeeze them all so tight,
Love them and treasure them with all my might
A mummy, I love my job and God not even you can rob.

Gemma Cutforth

NOTTINGHAM POET

 


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