Bonfire Prayers

Remember, remember the Fifth of November The Gunpowder Treason

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Bonfire Anthem

Now is the time for marching Now let your hearts be gay Hark to

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Fifth of November Poem - Lewes Bonfire Night Celebrations

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Fifth of November Poem

From day-break the build-up,
which I like best, begins to stitch the town-
threads of an ancient ritual.

The boarding up of shop fronts
in case of shoving crowds;
in case Prometheus’s children
out to commemorate
his hotly stolen gift, get out of hand.

Already the scent of kerosene invades the air.
Street-food vans take up their stand
as ordinary town folk become
transformed into Tudor and Victorian ladies,
blackened-faced Zulus, fine-feathered Indians,
the no-nonsense striped-jersied.

Later in the crowded streets
among the bangers, sparks and brass,
we crane our burning cheeks to see –
the procession of lit torches
soon-to-be burnt effigies
wheel barrows of flaming logs.

And now, the whole town
reverberates and shakes
to the crackling booms of fire works-
the cold air gasps at bright spells cast-
fountains of diamonds
showers of falling stars.

Am I the only one to glimpse
at an upstairs window
the pale face of a woman
drawing her curtains on it all-
as if she were the mother of a martyr
or one called Guy Fawkes?

By Grace Nichols

Viva Lewes

Posted in: Articles, Media, Fun, Blog, Other Stuff, Poems and Verse Tagged in: , , , , , , ,

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