The Guy (Bonfire Night Poem) Poem by Angela Wybrow

We parade our ‘guy' around the town,
In trousers of grey and a jacket of brown.
Atop his head there sits a straw hat -
In an old wheelbarrow our ‘guy' is sat.

To admire our work, some people stop,
And into our pot, the pennies soon pop.
The end of his life is drawing near,
But his smile stays - he shows no fear.

We take him to the bonfire site,
To wait for the day to turn into night.
We place him on the funeral pyre,
And below his body, we light a fire.

Fingers of fire caress the wood,
And warm the spot where we are stood.
The flames spread - they increase in power,
And by the flames our ‘guy' is devoured.