Long Guy fawkes Poems
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5th of November
Bonfire night
Why is it we remember
Guy fawkes set it alight
5th of November
Anti establishmentarian
Parliament a burning ember
Observance of many puritans
A plot was foiled
To blow up house of Lords
Guy fawkes plan spoiled
With dynamite and swords
Nowadays celebrated by a bonfire
The release of fireworks
Pay homage to the people's sire
I think it's berserk
Not a party pooper
Loud bangs scare this writer
Also animals can scatter
Guy fawkes was mad as a hatter
His attempt to overthrow was thwarted
Stood by dynamite he was caught
Sentenced to death and live in the tower
That's what happen if you go against power
Nothing really has changed
We're still locked up in chains
Speak out or scream and shout
You will be banned or taken out
No more posting on social media
You end up arrested for schizophrenia
The world nowadays hazy gone crazy
Smoke screens and lies make it hazy
Back to topic Guy fawkes
Never allowed to enter talks
He wasn't happy with the Lords
So got his rebels and drew thier swords
Hickory Dickory Dock, the mouse,
Ran up the clock,
But the crooked little man
In his crooked little house,
Who caught this crooked mouse
After Humpty Dumpty's fall,
Could not prevent the coming
Down of baby, cradle and all!
Now old Mother Hubbard,
Checked her bare cupboard
And found Jack and Jill,
Who lived just up the hill,
She wrapped poor Jack’s head
In vinegar and brown paper!
Guy Fawkes scandalous caper,
Was renown, he met the Duke of York,
Who to Fawkes, seemed quite a dork,
For the Duke took all his men up,
Then down, and up and again down,
He did not want to break his crown!
At that moment a Ladybird,
Whose house was on fire and
Her children gone, flew to the house,
That Jack built, and sat on the maidens
Lap all forlorn,
In the early morn,
But the maiden had gone to bed with John
Who still had his trousers on!
Both had a ball, and sang
A song of Sixpence,
But in their defence
They were hiding from Guy Fawkes
And his gunpowder plot,
In bed, thought of it naught!
Suddenly through their bed
Ran three blind mice for their life
And a farmers wife,
Who was cutting their tails with a knife!
Imagine three little kittens,
Who had lost their mittens
But could have no pie,
When they saw the blind mice,
Pie was history, as once,
Twice and thrice,
They caught the blind mice!
Meanwhile Polly had put the kettle on
So that all the mourners for Cock Robin,
Could all have a cup of tea,
It was the fly with his little eye,
Who first saw him die.
However, through all of this,
Little Jack Horner
Who sat in his corner
Heard Tom, Tom the Pipers son,
And though related none
Visited the Queen of hearts,
Who gave them some tarts!
Night time was nigh
And way up in the sky,
Was a twinkling star,
That Jack Sprat spotted from afar,
And so did old King Cole,
But at the same time heard the bell toll,
For poor cock robin,
So he started sobbing,
But soon cheered up when
He saw a fine lady upon a white horse,
Riding to Banbury Cross!
Wee Willie Winkie, asked for a ride
Through the town,
Still in his nightgown!
But when he saw the cow jump
Over the moon,
And the dish,
Run away with the spoon,
He rubbed his eyes and said what a fiddle,
Hey diddle diddle!
I
feel
today
will be
my last
a feeling
of panic
now vanished
now has passed
A sense of knowing fills my heart
Today a whole new life will start
To greet me will be Mum and Dad
Grandpa and Grandma too
The first in line to take my hand
And there to lead me through
My son ~ my only child ~ my boy
Will stand there next to you
My darling husband
My soulmate
My friend
I know
My love
It’s you
Tonight is when
my journey ends
The end of my poetry too
No more poems will I write
My final one I wrote tonight
And as the day turns into night
I climb on board my final flight
And as I fly into the sky
My Space Ship and I
Will explode!
Will ignite!
Like the
brightest rocket
On
Guy Fawkes Night
********
*****
****
***
*
What a way to go
What a fabulous show
A number one poem
Guess I’ll never know
SO
***On this Starry***Starry night***
Farewell
&
Goodnight
**
*
*
*
Written 15th July 2020
FIRST PLACE
Contest ‘If This Was My Last Poetry Contest Poem’
Sponsor Silent One
Contest COMPLETELY YOUR CHOICE 20
Sponsor Brian Strand
N/A
Whilst sitting on the Launch Pad
They await the final countdown
Their rocket – called TAKE 5, begins to shudder
The Captain is well known, and called BUTTERFINGER Boris
The other crew are MIKE and IKE and a female they call Doris
Rising with a roar like thunder
The MILKY WAY GALAXY to their left
Igniting like a Rocket at a Guy Fawkes celebration
They travel through the atmospheres and up into the stratospheres
The crew men on the Mother ship are called THREE MUSKETEERS
As they approach the Harvest Moon
A wondrous sight for all to see
The ship positions carefully, preparing to touch down
The Moon looks like a Christmas bauble dangling from the skies
Such a WHOOPER – it’s humongous, they really can’t believe their eyes
Landing with a bump and beginning to alight
They step upon this waterless and dusty satellite
There are SNO- CAPS for to climb, with such a steep incline
Great MOUNDS of debris all around that block their route ahead
But truthfully the crew would like to be at home, instead
As they explore the Moon once more
They stumble upon a strange creature
A little Green Man, who is very obese
Announcing himself with a sweeping bow, as Mr WATCHAMACALLIT
He’s training to run a Moon MARATHON, but he needs to get fitter to win it
The crew they finished all their chores
Boarding the Mother Ship they fasten her doors
Lift off is smooth, as they drift and float, gliding back into space
But hearing a strange voice nearby, whispering "Are those goodies for me"
They discover Mr W, on bended knees, embarking on a chocolate SPREE
But how on earth did he climb aboard, this CHUNKY little man
The crew in such a quandary and not knowing what to do
Should they turn back NOW AND LATER tell the reasons why
Or continue on their journey home, they did not want to die
Let’s take him home, cried Doris, he can live with me, I like his smile
But the twinkle in her eyes became a tear upon her cheek
She was lonely and emotional as she began to speak
She had fallen for the Moon Man in amongst the ballyhoo
Back home now and in wedded bliss, living on 5th AVENUE
How Sweet it is Competition, Sponsor Carol Connell, written on 29.09.18
Contest Brian's Choice D
Sponsor Brian Strand
A red, orange, brown fuss
in autumn once more
as fog comes upon us
Halloween ghouls to the door
The trees turning yellows
rains tumult and pour
thunder bellows,
winds blow cold with a roar
and puddles they widen
until they're almost a lake
then out we need go
for the leaves we must rake
So we dig out our gloves
and we wrap round our scarfs
Then we shop for our loves,
friends and then some other halves
For Christmas approaches
but fireworks come first
as Guy Fawkes encroaches
kids pennies do thirst
Then it's time for the lights
as the children do sing
And Santa's nearly in sight
while the church bells do ring
Then Jesus Christ's birth
we will try to remember
the meaning of 'worth'
on 25th of December.
Obsidian oscillated into lava
slid across syntactic streams
tumbled thick greenwood thickets
impenetrability an illusion wicked
shatter splinter sassy sinkers
Lord Ashtar himself lifted gnarled garbage
two big broken black bags to Source
split seconds of screaming searing sores
baby posture soak singular satin
Prophet Daniel’s prison-free prediction
Coloured lava languid loosen
yin-yang of yesteryear’s yarrows
as Watchfulness wed yearnings
no black bumblebees boomerang bombs
rainbow hands bell belly beckoning
Solar flares ignite twin hearts atoning
corona emissions spill splashing space
sodalite sprinkle sundrenched shores
kaleidoscope pupils please pulsing fate
Hearts purely placed on golden plate
Four eyes fathomed Guy Fawkes fickle
feuding onto a fervid foolproof floor
Stonehenge now sturdily steadily stood
sedating simple silent sleep suavely
accede alchemical ascensions
Missions matched mottoed moulded mountains
timelines merge in moss musical movement
Justice jump Jungian jurisdiction
Presence posy a present perfection
Dreams deliver dictums to Duet
Delicious domed desserts diffusing !
On the 5th of November in 1605,
When the new religion of Protestantism was taking hold,
Political activist Guy Fawkes was arrested and executed,
For attempting to detonate Parliament for Catholicism old.
We burn the guy on a bonfire every year to commemorate,
That he was destroyed and not the centre for political activity,
The crux of legislation, set by hard, honest and tough debate,
By the people’s representatives who effect a stealthy integrity.
Guido Fawkes became Guy through his strength and prowess in war,
Over whether Spain’s government should uphold the catholic faith,
So denouncing Guy reinforces this wrongness of just one religious table,
And sedates our own tendency to informally become our own fable.
Guy Fawkes converted to Catholicism in his teenage years,
And fought to keep Spain catholic in the Eight Years War,
Then travelled to England where he met other like minds,
Who sought to reject the Calvinist future that was in store.
The group felt only effective if they were able to detonate,
The Houses of Parliament in a mammoth gunpowder plot,
‘Cos King James I was securing Elizabeth’s Protestantism,
Which by law through representation was not going to rot.
But one man of that group could not abide his conscience,
And in a letter told made the authorities aware of explosives,
That awaited ignition in a room under the House of Lords,
Enabling a gang arrest and the execution of the subversives.
A GUNPOWDER PLOT
The 5th of November is a day to remember,
Children get excited from September,
The sound of fireworks reverberate,
And bonfires with effigies of a life like
Guy Fawkes commemorate
What might have been a very bad turn,
If Parliament was then to burn!
The origin of this story began on the 5th November
Sixteen hundred and five,
Beneath the houses of Parliament, Guy Fawkes,
The traitor was found, and so King James did survive.
Our traitor/hero was brought up in a
Family with an outward Protestant belief,
But the reality was that he was Catholic
And to this day is recorded on leaf!
However, Protestants and Catholics are still
Divided in their faith,
As to which side of the fence Guy Fawkes should haith!
Guy Fawkes sent a letter to a Catholic acquaintance,
To please not stay, and be far away,
On this planned explosive gun powder plot day!
But plans went awry, and this secret letter
Landed, in the lap of James the King,
Who sent his guards to go find this rebellious ring.
Guy Fawkes was found with six barrels of gunpowder, and
Immediately sentenced to be hung, drawn and quartered,
But this meant a death of real suffering, a miserable
Horrible fate of been slaughtered!
This for him was unthinkable, so he jumped from the
Gallows and broke his neck.
Young children are not told the gory
Side of this famous story,
For it would wreck
A child’s belief in this day, destroy their enjoyment
Of bonfires, fireworks and loads of fun,
And even recognized as a hero by some!
PG RATED
Don’t spoil tonight with the woes of tomorrow,
For that might lead to a multitude of trouble,
Nasty Ghosts are looking to mess up your sleep,
But if you wish to insist, let’s take a peep.
Ghosts come unbidden from the foggy, muddy, misty
Grounds of silence and dreams, somewhere from elsewhere,
In the echoes of your mind, whilst still fast asleep, a threat,
For softly they tread in the dark, ourselves only to blame I bet.
Too many horror movies we have watched of vampires
And werewolves, of witches who cast spells,
Lock you in dungeons, bubble bubble their stew, they brew,
Which consists of snails and puppy’s dogs tails, and you.
How about Dracula, and his bloody, thirsty, stained fangs,
Rather watch fireworks on Guy Fawkes that go bang, bang,
But don’t wander too far for the shadows have eyes at night,
They just might jump out of nowhere and give you a fright.
So before going to sleep read something joyful and happy,
Perhaps a Tom and Jerry show or Fred Flintstone and Barney,
Don’t spoil your evening with the woes of tomorrow,
Put all aside and focus on past glad memories, often forgotten.
We celebrate Guy Fawkes although he did not quite make the grade
I know and understand rebellion threatens thus he met his fate
Could have been worse he could have blown of his incendiary hand
Less body parts to torture in the name of country and King of the land
Guido as they called him fighting for the Spanish before his foiled plot
Was fully aware that he could be exterminated for an unsavoury complot
Can violence in the name of debatable justice be ever condoned
The masters of power today might agree when Syria is droned
Crusades in the name of some cause or other belie religion and creed
When money meets oil geopolitical persuasion derived from greed
Black powder in Guy’s case blew up in his fierce revolutionary face
Unlike Nelson an eye for a blind spot got him nothing but disgrace
Dark power gloved fists velvet resolutions and orange insurrections
Should of course release white peace doves from resolute minds’ disaffection
Nena’s 99 red balloons and Banksy’s street art reveal a powerful message
No doubt they beat anthrax in envelops and letter bombs sent by expressage
Yet Mandela in his armed struggle days was deemed a vile terrorist
Fought for the cause in despair but was labelled a mean criminal errorist
Suppose that leaves us with religion and Jesus crossed bleeding nailed
Whereas Guy stored explosives in Westminster’s undercroft with little avail
A white robed Ghandi marched for salt freedom justice peaceful opposition
Before him the Buddha sat quietly under a Bodhi tree for untroubled transition
Fawkes received victor’s punishment but is said to have fallen from the scaffold
Before being hanged broke his neck probably mocked the crowd that was baffled
Avoided the agony of the punitive rope before drawn and divided into four parts
Outsmarted the executioner retribution erratically broken in fits and starts
Few of us know the real story only shoot fireworks remember November the 5th
Blow money miss the pith dispense judgement in blessed ignorance forthwith
A lesson to be learnt from the historical legend some possible moral from treason
Is that words are superior to gun powder and it’s better to die for a right reason