
Bonfire Night
Up flame, dance impatient,
Crackling to your own beat,
Curling round the branches,
And licking round my feet.
Here I am the scarecrow
That you ritually kill –
The Lord of the Pyre
And the King of the Hill.
I am the sacrificial Guy
Whose kindling-fate you lit,
I am the coal-black scapegoat
To be roasted on the spit.
See my hellfire cloak me
As your breezes stoke them on,
The terrorist within you
Who is never truly gone.
This martyrdom you’re making
Will just fan the flames, no doubt.
Purge me all you might,
But you will never smoke me out.
Up flame, and choke your carbon,
Set your atoms free –
Scatter your particulates,
Increase your entropy !
Call my name with rockets
As they whizz throughout the lands,
Write my name with sparklers
Till they burn your little hands.
Light the sky with blood-red gold
So high above the rafter –
You hear that crack that echoes back ?
It’s really just my laughter.
I am the roaring limelight
As it bathes me head to toe –
I am the phoenix rising,
And the ever-afterglow.
I am the Guy eternal
You’ll forever set alight –
Remember, each November –
You’ll remember me alright !

I love the imagery this conjures.
As always, thank you for sharing. 🌹
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Thanks ! It’s a bit late, but that’s inspiration for you…
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Anytime! And hey, you have to take what you get when you get it or else it’s just gone.
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Don’t always have the chance to write on thd spot though. Although sometimes it’s good to filter ideas through some natural selection – all stray thoughts unacted upon are liable to be forgotten in half an hour, but the good ones tend to pop-up again later on.
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I think some of our best work is forgotten.. It’s possible that that the world just wasn’t ready for it.
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In my case (play scripts rather than poems), my best work is less forgotten and more simply never written…
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