#guyfawkes
*coloured flames and fireflies dance mischievously around our heads
to the tiny trumpetsong of bees Joyous songs of love lulling all in revery yet silent to
mere mortals as We only hear the hush of whispered sighs stood beneath the dappled canopy of
ancient fair oak spread As sweet twilight greets us again swathing our Ianthe in milky moonlight
as she rests upon a dew jewelled knoll still dreaming of fae Unaware of the cold (or the warmth
you hold in your heart for her) She smiles as you cover her shoulders with a elven~made
blanket of gossamer wisp whilst estivating toads blink wide in the coolness of hidden
mossy beds Gently,
sweep the droplet
of Au from her eye, Deva,
as we cough etheric dust from our lungs,
sparkles floating
in the paper-
lantern light
scattering across
the midnight sky,
illuminating fates,
as those fire-flies hearts
twinkle like falling stars unseen*
Nov 1, 2013
Nov 1, 2013 at 5:21 PM UTC
Lawrence Hall
[email protected]
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Guy Fawkes Day - an App Payment for the Guy?
Remember, remember a good fifth of plonk
Elections, tantrums, and plot
I see no reason
This autumn season
Why this year should not be forgot!
Nov 5, 2020
Nov 5, 2020 at 8:34 AM UTC
The grey Themes flows like molasses
Key figures bustle about the impending law
Like ants on a crumb of coffee cake
What seemed so important on that dark day
Flutters past like wind through a forgotten rake
What is more treasured than this entanglement?
The men with insipid wigs evidently
The public does not compare to Parliament
Bicker until your tongues swell into pink sausages
Time is a hair, caught on a nail in a plank, laying in the field
Insomuch as your ignorance to the turnshoes clacking underneath you
The porcelain haired fellows unfortunate to yield
Barrels of whiskey they are not
It’s a keg of a different sort
Guy thinks the fight is worth being fought
To worship is to be free after all
In the minds of zealots that’s justification enough
It was free reign in Eden before the fall
There’s no formality strike the brimstone
Cognition upon the floor erupting beneath them
Cricket in the corner little black legs hone
Not insects, yet footsteps close
Law prevails no fireworks tonight
Religious freedom prevails? Who knows?
It was foiled, ruined by one member
Gunpowder plot posse found the gallows
Perhaps no one will remember the fifth of November
Nov 5, 2025
Nov 5, 2025 at 11:15 AM UTC