Bonfire Night Poem by Ernestine Northover

Bonfire Night

Rating: 5.0

How eager are the children as they look up into the sky,
Reacting to a theatre of sound, colour and light,
A euphoria of expectation, the holding of breath,
The lighting of the bonfire, on top sits the awesome guy,
The igniting in the centre, then the flames that glow so bright,
And in all this heat the guy will meet his death.

The sudden whoosh as the bonfire now takes front stage,
The roaring flames devouring the stack with energy so strong,
Heat growing with each lick from those great feasting tongues,
Crackling, spitting, shooting sparks, turning violent with rage,
A deep orange glow reflected in the faces of the staring throng,
Smoke rising into the hair, the eyes, the nose and then the lungs.

With the fireworks carefully set up, the show can now begin,
With noise from all the pyrotechnics, assailing the ears,
What brilliant hues flash before illuminated lively eyes,
The cheering becomes louder, quickly rising to a din,
Then the cold night enfolds your body as midnight nears,
And the mighty fire, mighty no longer, crumbles and dies.

A pile of ash is all that is left,
The bonfire, guy, fireworks, all are gone,
Like a dream, into your memory.

Mary Nagy 04 September 2005

Great poem Ernestine. The visuals here had me feeling the heat from the fire myself. Sincerely, Mary

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Patricia Gale 19 April 2008

Wonderful..... nothing like a bonfire. I enjoyed the imagery in this one.

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Andrew Blakemore 16 March 2008

Memories of childhood bonfire nights came flooding back reading this. Lovely poem. Andrew x

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Duncan Wyllie 27 February 2006

Dear Ernestine, from start to finish, this was beautiful and I could watch the display before my minds eye.Brilliant.Love Duncan

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Simon Whild 22 October 2005

It took me back to when I was a boy. All the excitement, sounds and colours. Not to mention the baked potatoes and butter! A lovely poem.

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zip zap 19 September 2005

i could almost smellthe smoke. nice work! -ps

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