Here's another topical and atmospheric poem by kind permission of David Pike, much respected poet and editor of Pulsar Poetry Magazine. David's also the bardic force behind the Ligden Poetry Society; a merry band of poets who enjoy coming together in Wiltshire's rural pubs and inns to do their poetry-mic things.
At the stroke of midnight
a bloke with a watch
and a slow-burning match
lit a fuse;
a drunk and bemused audience
ooh~d and ah~d before
in anticipation ~
by way of preparation.
The sky erupted
in a kind of multi~coloured way,
something not entirely unexpected.
Later, when the booms and bangs had receded
to a faint whisper of burnt sticks
hurtling to earth
to kebab sots on the strand
and more innocent creatures
the crowd became restless, expanded
to merge and mingle in the narrow streets,
some of the more enlightened citizens
for soup and sleep
but the majority milled around
absorbing the sights and sounds
of sadness and euphoria,
a short while later
someone smashed~up a van
while a goon dressed as a vicar
blew~up a selection
of dubious balloons,
and surprisingly (in view of the weather)
a group of buxom women
streaked up and down, around
then down and up...
until the rain began
and it was all over.
c) David Pike (www.pulsarpoetry.com)
Poet-in-Residence wishes all true poets around the world a happy and healthy poetic New Year