How are there people
Who only light one candle
To find warmth?
-Honey, in this house I need a bonfire

Back in the day,
When I was a little whipper snapper in Leeds,
We would go “chumping”, as we called it, for firewood,
For weeks and weeks.

Everyone built towering infernos,
Ready for November Fifth:
Bonfire Night.
Some made effigies of the “evil” Guy Fawkes,
Leader of the “Gunpowder Plot”
And stood in the street saying
“Penny for the Guy”.

What a night!
Roaring fire on a chill Winter night,
Those flames burning your face.
A World War Three
Of Fireworks:
Rockets, Catherine Wheels and bangers.
Bangers to scare the girls.
Kids painting pictures in the air
With sparklers.

And best of all,
That yummy gingery Parkin cake:
A taste I cannot put
Into words.
Oh and deep dark
Treacle Toffee,
Jacket potatoes,
Roast chestnuts
And Crunchie-like cinder toffee.

It’s many a year since I went to a bonfire.
Politically correct firework displays
Are more the modern thing.

Seems strange to burn the effigy
Of a man who had the sense
To try to blow parliament up –
Especially a Yorkshire Man.
Ha ha.

But then I read that good
Religious reasons are behind
This bonfire Celebration:
Those flames are orange
After all.

Not wishing to create divisions
Anywhere in the world,
It’s still good to see traditions
Being maintained.

Let those fires and fireworks keep rising,
Constantly emerging from the shadows
Of Halloween.

Paul Butters

© PB 27\10\2018.

Written at the request of Stephen Chapman. “Treacle toffee” added later, with “jacket potatoes” and “cinder toffee” added on 31\10\18. "Roast chestnuts" added 18\11.

Rain falling on the decomposing leaves
cold autumn air breathed in warm lungs
the wind blows muttering ghost stories
into our ears.

Pumpkins carved into wickedly twisted smiles
as we dress up for Halloween discos and parties with style
gathering sweets as we go
while the full moon glows.

Bonfires built as we wait for the 5th of November
when fireworks will explode and sparkle in the night sky
we remember the gun powder plot
as we toast marshmallows on the bonfire.

the glowing of the
hot embers from
what was left of the
bonfire reminded
me that maybe
some good can come
out of this darkness.

A solemn inferno is crafted, and not shortly after
My bones are chapped, my blood shaking, my organs cracking;
Have I got it wrong? I laugh.
I follow the path of the pointed droppings from the trees
The crunch at my feet, how cliché! I hesitate.
The chill slips away in the night, and the fire
Wraps around our hands – like gloves – a perfect fit.
Life is too grim to live without a flame
I never want to face a season without this.
I have seen the moon dance and decline;
Seen it
Finish its routine.
I applaud.

Start again.
Again, again, again,

Huddled around my ball of light, bonding;
Oversharing. I cry.
When I was still able to count my age on my fingers,
This sun could never come undone;
I never imagined her ******* her soul for me,
slowly, like a neatly wrapped present on Christmas morning;
I never imagined learning how to burn my memories.

I can finally let you go.

Your kisses never showed me this admiration
But I wish you well. I sigh.
I will see you again, in the candlelight –
Only an imitation of the evenings
where the fireflies would tuck me into bed
and the stars would tell me a story.
Goodnight, good riddance. I lie.

Staring into the fire
As the flames crackle and pop
The elegant dance of light
That seems unable to stop

Unleash your deepest secrets
As you sit around the flames
For those who shall surround you
Will soon forget your name

Alcohol and spirits
Fill your body and mind
Though around the bonfire
You will feel yourself unwind

The people here will listen
Strangely they will care
And for some odd reason
Everybody else will share

A peculiar bonding moment
With strangers you just met
What is it about this fire
That makes nobody seem like a threat

No faces to be matched
With the words that they pour out
No contact info exchanged
For this moment will be blacked out

So come sit around the bonfire
And begin to pour out your soul
Because for this fragile moment
Your story can finally be told