Yes, Poetry Lovers, it’s that event of the year. They say there’s beautiful fireworks out there, but I have to take their word for it. I’m busy having my hands over my ears, and snuggling in with Dobby. Always loathed it – especially bangers. So, to show my displeasure, I have penned an anti-Guy Fawkes night poem.
Read on if you dare…
Fireworks burning bright
at 6 o’clock at night.
Freezing against the cold night air,
they say they’re pretty but I don’t care.
They’re obnoxious and way too loud,
and any sparkler draws a crowd,
to whom I wouldn’t give the time of day.
I wish they all would go away.
A stuffed figure in orange flames,
I don’t want to play these games.
You can keep your potatoes in their jackets,
and all the other crap in little packets.
I’d much rather be warm at home,
I wish those fireworks would leave me alone!
Thanks for looking, Poetry Lovers. I’ll be back soon with more poetry japes. Same time, same channel…..