Guy Fawkes. Poem by Michael Walker
Guy Fawkes.
Today is Guy Fawkes Day,
the fifth of November again,
although the fireworks started
weeks ago and will continue
for most of this hot month.
Outside my bedroom I can hear
crackling, bangs like gunshots,
the rapid fire of jumping jacks,
like the stutter of a machine gun.
I hear, now and then, the swoosh
of sky rockets on their trajectory
across the night before the fall.
Even so, this continual orchestra
is not something I can't cope with.
'It's just background noise, '
I tell myself, 'just ignore it.'
-5 November,2015.
As a child, I used to take part in Guy Fawkes celebrations that had a bonfire and a 'guy'- which was burned as an effigy- and every firecracker money could buy' memories which still glow in the dark and still bang with the excitement of childhood past
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/3/2024 2:49:34 PM # 1.0.0.1119
Your poem brings back fond memories of celebrating Guy Fawkes as a child. The big community bonfire and all the neighbors kids oohing and aahing at the fountains of color and sparks from Roman Candles and Catherine Wheels. The sky rockets were exciting to light and watch. And the horror of being chased by a jumping jack added to the fun.
Thanks for your amusing comment of reminiscence. Amidst all the fun, there was some danger I think.