‘Tissue Paper Flames’, a bonfire night poem.

Abbie Walker shares her bonfire night poem, ‘Tissue Paper Flames’.

Faces glow a golden hue, 

Within an inky frame.

Eyes fill with sights that smoulder red, 

A hundred grins the same. 

—

Upon the spectacle that stands

Before all of the adoring fans

A wooden man with straw for hands,

Arms raised out towards the man 

With the high-vis vest and water tank,

Far too relaxed before the blaze, 

A mere 6 feet before his face. 

—

Flames that flicker billow smoke, 

Writhing far above,

And fill the speckled skies with fog,

Obscuring out the stars. 

—

Crinkling like tissue paper,

The fire does applause, 

Roaring louder than the cheers,

As burning crates implode. 

—

The little boy with blue dot hat,

Leans closer to the flames,

His father holds his shoulder still, 

To keep him close and safe. 

—

The blaze ebbs down and shrinks inside

Itself as it falls in,

Ash engulfs the feathered flames

And leaves a molten scorch. 

—

And there the grass lies, choked and burned, 

Within its ashen bed,

As people move on from the blaze

And fireworks begin.