Viv Wigley Poet Rhyme

Aftermath

Stepping out, the smell of smoke hangs in the morning air,
plastic cones and tubes and sticks are littered everywhere.
Another Guy Fawke's night has gone, bombarding all the senses
the night sky sounds and looks just like the Moscow air defences.
All year we're told be clean and green for the environment
but every November the fifth, I don't know where that went.
Keep down the noise, respect neighbours, can't say fairer than that
but once a year under the bed I try to calm the cat.
If  laws are put in place that we can ignore once each year
then maybe, come this New year's eve I can, and without fear,
( although my missus likes the fact my love for her I hog)
go find some boozy ladies for a real good drunken snog.

♡Like0

Share Poem

---

Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.

Please Login to post a comment

Jean Murray November 10, 2016 at 10:26 AM I am picturing the slobber of that snog.

Paloma P November 7, 2016 at 5:50 AM Don't know about Guy Fawke night, sounds like a helluva time but 'drunken snog' made me smile. :)

Andrea Dietrich November 6, 2016 at 7:15 PM Only someone who has lived it can truly do this one. I am gonna feel like a fool if I try it. great job, Viv. Viv Wigley November 7, 2016 at 12:50 AM Having been fiercely faithful to my good lady for thirty years, if I even considered kissing someone under the mistletoe or on New Year, I'd probably end up with a good kick in the man bits, Andrea. I am allowed to cuddle my cat under the bed once a year, though :) Viv x

Richard Lamoureux November 6, 2016 at 8:29 AM He looks like one of the musketeers. A most interesting history. Viv Wigley November 6, 2016 at 10:45 AM Indeed, Richard, he could have completely changed the course of English history had he been successful. As a child, effigies of Guy Fawkes sat atop evey bonfire in the land, and kids would sit out on the street with an effigy and shout " Penny for the Guy?" in order to fund their toffee apples and fireworks. Nowadays it's just a plain old bonfire and fireworks. Poor Mister Fawkes fades into historical and cultural obscurity.

Richard Lamoureux November 6, 2016 at 8:25 AM I always thought English class was "Aftermath". This sounds like quite the affair. I am not familiar with Guy Fawke. I'll have to google it.