Christmas

Christmas

The evenings draw in,

The adverts do change,

It's time to move things, 

Your lounge rearrange,

Sat in the corner,

A sparkly lit tree

There's gifts under there,

For you and for me,

The shops fill with people,

They're all in a rush,

The dash to get home,

One final last push,

The morning has come,

It's time to unwrap,

The rustle of paper,

Good food and a nap,

So then comes the evening

It's Christmas TV,

I'll just have a chocolate,

Or two, maybe three,

We've done it again,

That's it for this year,

I hope that for you,

There's been lots of cheer.

My Bride

My Bride

Your beautiful eyes I look into 
Reflecting all my smile,
I hope one day together my love,
We shall walk down the aisle,

I often think about the times,
I'll get down on one knee,

To ask if you will make me happy,
Become Mrs Verney,

Let's clear our minds together now,
And brush the troubles away,

That little sweeping action done
Filled greatness in this day,

There are those notes that get inside
And touch my very soul,

You know my little darling girl
My heart you have now stole,

And when the years have come and gone
And we are old and grey,

I still wake up each morning
Gaze at you and think "wow, yay!".

Explanation

Just some romantic ramblings from me. Just because I'm not involved with anyone at present, doesn't stop me from having musings does it :)

Charli

Charli

As gracious as a girl can be,

But comes Friday now lets us all see,

It's time for her work to come to an end,

Arise this corkscrew reveals a good friend,

The colours tonight shall be red or white,

A matter of time before she speaks shite (sorry :D)

So sit down Charli and adorn your fine onesie, 

It's the weekend now, happy days, just like Fonzie, (come on, you try rhyming with onesie)

Her gingerbread man arrives at her side,

Grumpy perhaps but dotes on his bride,

And now this fab poem must come to and end,

I like having her as my Twitter friend.

Explanation

So, I asked people what I could write for my next poem, two people just said "do one about me". So, I did. This one is for Charli, who foolishly asked for one.

The Passing of Summer 2013

The Passing of Summer 2013

We wondered if,

We'd see your smile,

We hadn't seen you,

For quite a while,

But come you did,

And raise your hand,

On many faces,

The skin now tanned,

For me sometimes,

You were too hot,

But I'm still glad,

You stayed a lot,

You're going now,

That's clear to see,

And it's not nice,

To see you flee,

So when it comes,

This time next year,

Please don't be a stranger,

We like you that's clear.

Explanation

The summer of 2013 in the UK was one of the sunniest and hottest for many many years. After several years of very poor quality summers (even for the UK), we were long overdue, and in great need of a lovely summer. We got one.

The Bookshop

The Bookshop

The colours of rainbows,

All stacked along straight rows,

Feeling my hairs stand right up on my skin,

I'm in a bookshop, and I never want to leave here.

The pages they call me, 

Call for my attention,

Feeling the weight of each one in my hands,

I'm in a bookshop, and I never want to leave here.

That soft little crackle,

These bindings so detailed,

Markings of readers from times of before,

I'm in a bookshop, and I never want to leave here.

From fiction to sci-fi,

The ink fills my neurons,

Smells like a kitchen much food for my mind,

I'm in a bookshop, and I never want to leave here.

So many to witness,

The keepers of magic,

Friends of these words and they want you to share

I'm in a bookshop, and I never want to leave here.

It's time to close this page,

Will open tomorrow,

I know that I'll find something special in here,

I'm in a bookshop, and I never want to leave here.

Explaination

So, I have a confession to make. I'm actually not a particularly big reader, but I came across a blog post the other day. It was so beautifully written that I decided to do this poem. Here's the specific blog post from "The bookshop around the corner" which I would highly recommend reading, regardless of whether you're a reader or not. The blogger's passion for her hobby can only be admired. Oh, and of course, I had a little inspiration too from Mr Knopfler after listening to this song.

Fusilier Lee Rigby

Fusilier Lee Rigby

With courage that we shall never know,

You came to defend your country,

In times of joy the sticks came out,

You sounded the notes of your passion,

But then in a moment we shall never forget,

Your life and your soul was taken from us,

We were so sorry that upon your return

We could not keep you safe from harm,

In thousands they came to visit that site,

Laid flowers, paid tributes, because this is right,

Today some weeks on we lay you to rest,

I didn't know you yet somehow I miss you,

I miss you because you touched people's lives,

Showed us how to be brave keep calm and carry on,

Your little boy he will grow up strong,

He has our support and knew a great man

Sleep well, Lee,

We will remember you.

Be mine...

Be mine...

My eyes shall tell you all that you need to know,

These heavy waters alone you shall not have to row,

My phone lights up, I hear there's a beep,

I now feel so happy, another that I shall keep,

So come now take my hand and come away with me,

We'll build a life together my love, just wait and you shall see,

You know that I will be there for you,

We're in this together, a tough team, me and you,

Sometimes we'll cry, but lots we shall giggle,

That little thing you do I'll give you a wiggle,

You think I'm making breakfast, I kinda sorta am,

It's taking me a while cos there's flowers with your jam,

This journey we're on we'll sail it together,

When I'm with you there's sunshine in my weather.

Explanation

No explanation here. It's just general musings on what it means to me to be in a strong, healthy, long term relationship. (not that I'm in one at the mo by the way....but please form an orderly queue ladies.)

The Routemasters

The Routemasters

A choreographed dance, though timing may stray,

These big red carriages through night time to day,

Carrying the blood throughout all its veins

They have their own place in their little lanes,

You know there's a pulse, they make its heart beat,

So follow the yellow brick road and hear that thing peep,

All ages, religions and cultures and creeds,

Reminding us all that "Londoner" 's our breed,

So next time you're on one just think where you are,

You're on a Routemaster each driven by a star.

Explanation

I'm really taken with "The Route Masters: Running London's Roads" at the moment. It's a documentary on BBC showing how London's public transportation system is kept running. Tonight showed the dedicated work of the drivers of the night time bus routes. Man, they really do put up with a lot of stuff, but pretty much every time, they'll get you to where you need to and we should thank them for that. Without them, a lot of people would be stuck. They do sometimes have a reputation as being not very nice, but perhaps it's because they don't feel respected. I would suggest we give them a little more and see how things change.

Exposure

Exposure

Well today we go play Russian roulette folks,

For fear we're about to seek and provoke,

Feels like today tomorrow and probably the next,

Six chambers are loaded, BUT determination 's flexed,

Walking opened eyed right into the lion's den,

I know that I must do this again and again,

Upon the horizon the clouds they do build,

With darkness and thunder they clearly are filled,

The drum beats do quicken, they get louder too,

But screw you anxiety, no seriously, screw you!,

The world spins round like I'll fall to the ground,

But must have the confidence that I shall not drown,

The beast of tightness comes and smothers 'round my throat,

For this to stop now, please, I hereby do vote,

Through all of this I know I must last,

Because this is what I choose, a new me I shall cast.

Explanation

I'm not going to say too much about this, except to say I'm currently undergoing "exposure therapy" for a particular anxiety issue. I believe tackling it will be extremely challenging (well I know it is), but I also believe it will make me a better and in the long run, a happier person (yes I know that's hard to believe..."Better?! But Phil, you're already the best!"). There is lots to do to where I want to get to....and the above is what it feels like to me, both in terms of how unbelievably horribly horrifically terrifyingly difficult it feels -- but also how much determination I must have to get to a better place. To quote Churchill, "Oh no no no no no".....wait, wrong Churchill. I mean this one. "If you're going through hell, keep going".

Sunbathing Moon

Sunbathing Moon

Middle of the month it shall come soon,

Prepares for her dance a beautiful new moon,

Comes about this little new-born,

Craters show a life that's well-worn,

Each day she will grow in strength,

Keeping an eye on the focal length,

Now she is so bright, lets give her a wave,

She sits there proudly in her sunbathe,

Now as the month it draws to a close,

We bid her farewell before we all doze.

A Prayer for Bostonians

A Prayer for Bostonians

The spring sun shines,

As the finish line signs,

Visitors, compatriots,

A day of the patriots,

At 4 hours 9 and 43 seconds

A flash in the corner and noise they do beckon,

Fall down to the ground,

All muffled are sounds,

The shrieking the blood and the masses of tears,

Ran right to your help left behind all their fears,

So scared and so scarred,

For your life no regard,

But to them we do say,

No this wasn't your day,

Because together we rise,

'Cos our kindness flies high.

Poetry in Street View

Poetry in Street View

Rising up from depths far beyond,

This concrete carpet is dotted with ponds,

Arrow or circle and sometimes square,

It's time for my fingers to have an affair,

Setting off with slightly blurred vision,

To go left or right is all my decision,

In a moment the seasons do change,

This colourful map of many things strange,

Dispelling the myth about what is there,

A world of cultures seen here from your chair,

Then there's just the plain old weird,

A sight for which this must be revered,

Reminders of times gone by,

The whole planet is now nearby.

Explanation


I'm not going to write an explanation for this one. However, I do suggest that you navigate around in Street View for some time and let these words mean something to you. Here's a starting point. Here is your starting point.

Delivering the News

Delivering the news

At dawn we rise in hand come alive,

A big yellow bag to command and to drive,

The sun calls me up to Wentworth Road,

Sometimes she's walked and sometimes she's rode,

From times to telegraph to people and mail,

Filled with supplements and gadgets for sale,

First it's the teacher so best be behaved,

Then the Dulux dog and a pat and a wave,

Onto the man who gets the big three,

I still wonder what we'd done unto he,

Their memory lives on these three little streets,

Delivering the words on Shelley, Tennyson and Keats.

Explanation


Like many kids in their mid teens, I had a paper round. I just did mine on a Sunday, so this is about my memories of that.

At dawn we rise in hand come alive,
A big yellow bag to command and to drive,

This refers to waking up early (very early for a teenager), after the alarm beeps. Get up dressed, and out the door with the yellow delivery bag that would be my friend for this morning.

The sun calls me up to Wentworth Road,
Sometimes she's walked and sometimes she's rode,

To get from my house to the newsagents where I had to pick up my papers, I had to walk up Wentworth road, which during the summer, on a clear morning would have the sun beaming down it, as if it was guiding me towards my destination. Sometimes I went on foot, sometimes I used my bike.

From times to telegraph to people and mail,
Filled with supplements and gadgets for sale,

This is about the big Sunday papers that people would get, often filled with extra Sunday supplement with catalogues offering weird and wonderful gadgets for the home.

First it's the teacher so best be behaved,
Then the Dulux dog and a pat and a wave,

On my round, I had to deliver to a house where a teacher from my school lived (Mrs Selwood should she ever come across this....oh and thanks for the Christmas tip!). Then I had to go onto a house, where they had a huge dog, just like the one in the Dulux paint adverts. I was terrified of the thing the first few times I did it, but I soon realised it was just a big lovable thing who wanted a bit of a tickle.

Onto the man who gets the big three,
I still wonder what we'd done unto he,

I remember there was one man who got the three big Sunday papers. They were the Sunday Times, Sunday Telegraph and Observer. Huge things they were. Why he needed to get all three, I've no idea. I often wonder whether he'd hated paper boys or something and this was he way of causing us pain - to make us carry all this paper.

Their memory lives on these three little streets,
Delivering the words on Shelley, Tennyson and Keats.

Three of the streets that I delivered to were named after three great posts, Shelley, Tennyson and Keats. It's quite nice, and warming that I'm writing a poem about my paper round, which just so happened to include deliveries to these streets.

Spring

Spring

I came upon these fields of green,

All neatly mowed and looking pristine,

The yellow sea beneath my eyes,

I see the waves they fall and rise,

The choir continues to sing out their hymns,

Disco lights bounce off our needy white limbs,

The colours so vibrant a true painter's mix,

A bridge in the centre a launch for poohsticks,

A breeze arrives and gently caresses,

In front of me shows nature's successes,

This symphony of colour aloud,

I wandered lonely as a cloud.

Explanation


I'm going to leave off writing an explanation for this one. It's basically about spring having arrived. I'm imagining sitting in a park, such as St James's Park or Regent's Park in London, with all the warmth and colour being present. A resounding victory by nature to bring back life after we've had to hide away our weak British skin for the winter. Please take this as a way to create a vision of spring for you.

The Glimmer of Hope

The Glimmer of Hope

Taking their place in the silver lagoon,

Coffee stains sit upon two teaspoons

Best make sure to use the facilities,
Exposed right now are my vulnerabilities,

The road shall be long 'til our paths next cross,
I don't like this feeling this deep sense of loss,

First come the lights in the night's sky,
Then come the footprints something to buy,

December twenty first and soon things will change,
Presents wrapped up 'round the tree to arrange,

Twelve chimes of Big Ben they ring out so loud,
A list of things to change we hereby do vow,

Minute by minute and day by day,
Cross off my calendar 'til I say hurray,

Memories of you have kept me alive,
Comforted in the knowledge that you'll soon arrive,

After hoping and yearning I celebrate this day,
I've just received your text you are on your way!

Explanation

I took this photograph today. 

It was the sun bursting through my lounge window for the first time since October. For now, the glimmer lasts only a moment. But that shall increase. Very quickly, it went behind the buildings, but just for a moment, it burst in and hit my eyes and to me felt just like when you get a text from a visiting friend that you've not seen for a long time to say "don't worry, I'm on my way"

Taking their place in the silver lagoon,
Coffee stains sit upon two teaspoons

This suggests a meeting between two good friends that aren't going to see each other for some time - just like how I won't see the sunshine coming into my flat for some time. I'm imagining here the time together coming to a close where the friend must leave, and so the empty cups of coffee are placed in the sink (the silver lagoon) with coffee stains on the teaspoons.

Best make sure to use the facilities,
Exposed right now are my vulnerabilities,

As the friend prepares to leave, s/he decides it's best to avail herself/himself of the facilities (the loo basically!), but relating back to the sun leaving, and winter beginning, it exposes a feeling of vulnerability in me, both emotional and physical - for a variety of reasons I'm not a particularly big fan of winter.

The road shall be long 'til our paths next cross,
I don't like this feeling this deep sense of loss,

This just continues the narrative really of not really liking the time of year. A sense of loss for this friend.

First come the lights in the night's sky,
Then come the footprints something to buy,

Each of winter's landmarks come and pass. First, bonfire night, then people out shopping for Christmas presents, perhaps making footprints in the snow.

December twenty first and soon things will change,
Presents wrapped up 'round the tree to arrange,

As December 21st arrives, as the shortest day, you know it can only get lighter. Quickly, this is followed by Christmas Day itself.

Twelve chimes of Big Ben they ring out so loud,
A list of things to change we hereby do vow,

Then, onto new year, where we all await the chimes of Big Ben to signal in the start of the new year, and so many people make new year's resolutions.

Minute by minute and day by day,
Cross off my calendar 'til I say hurray,

Noticing the days beginning to get longer. At first, it's frustratingly slow, but it does soon pick up. The friend in spring is coming bringing with a sense of renewed strength and opportunity.

Memories of you have kept me alive,
Comforted in the knowledge that you'll soon arrive,

For me, but many others too, the winter period is harder to survive, but the memories, whether it be in the mind, or perhaps photographs of a better time keep you going, along with the knowledge those opportunities shall soon be on the horizon.

After hoping and yearning I celebrate this day,
I've just received your text you are on your way!

After struggles, hopes that you'll survive and get through a more difficult time, that moment that confirms spring really is on its way (the sun bursting through the window, albeit, briefly), tells me that my friend, the spring (and real friends!) are well on their way.

The Pendolino

The Pendolino

So hail this down,
To Euston station

I bid farewell,
To pastures green,

This big red ensign,
She is my carriage,

I'm northern bound,
Await my hugs,

These fields of yellow,
All shapes and sizes,

Cut their way,
Through this green land,

Send out a signal,
To silver chariots,

Soon I'll be,
Right back with them.
Explanation

I was listening to Fare Thee Well Northumberland by my favourite ever musician, Mark Knopfler. It got me thinking about a train ride back home to my parents that I did in the spring of 2011.

The scenery was so beautiful.

In fact, I recorded about a minute of the journey on my phone (it's not too shaky either).



Since then, the experience of that has just been in the junkyard of my brain waiting for some lines to come into my head. Now, after listening to that song a number of times, they have.

So hail this down,
To Euston station,

This refers to hailing a taxi to get up to Euston Station.

I bid farewell,
To pastures green,

Where I live in London, is near several lovely squares (in fact, London is very lucky to have such a large number of green spaces considering it's a big city). So until returning, I bid these scenes farewell.

This big red ensign,
She is my carriage,

To get back to my parents up in the north, I'd use Virgin Trains. The big red ensign is their logo and of course, the train is my carriage.

I'm northern bound,
Await my hugs,

I think this is probably self-explanatory, but if not it's basically saying that I'm off up north to see my lovely family and give them a hug.

These fields of yellow,
All shapes and sizes,

As you can see from the video, the countryside can look beautiful when the fields are glazed in the colours rapeseed. Different trees of all shapes and sizes line the route too. It's really a great way to see the English countryside.

Cut their way,
Through this green land,

This refers to the canals and rivers that can be seen along the way.

Send out a signal,
To silver chariots,

Once I'm on my way, I would always text my Dad to let him know so he can be at the station to meet me and take me the rest of the way to home. At the time he had a silver (or it might've been grey, but silver sounds better!) car.

Soon I'll be,
Right back with them.

Not long now until I'm back home (and can eat proper food!)

Pancake Day

Pancake Day

Upon the horizon,

The dishes emerge,

A thousand flying saucers

Awaiting our welcome,

Settling down on terra firma,

The locals pick up their pitch forks,

First comes the water cannon,

Then a mass of mortars,

Charging forward to devour,

Scoop, fold and tear,

The battle over in minutes,

The invaders never stood a chance,

Satisfied and in need of rest,

The victors await their next fight.

Explanation

Upon the horizon,

The dishes emerge,

Laying out the ingredients to make the pancake. The dishes here are both the frying pans, and also the invading "alien dishes" as a metaphor.

A thousand flying saucers

Awaiting our welcome,

The flying saucers are the stereotypical round shape just like the shape of a pancake. Waiting for the eater/earthlings to meet them.

Settling down on terra firma,

The locals pick up their pitch forks,

As the pancakes are ready and placed onto the plate (terra firma), the eater picks up his/her fork (and probably spoon too)

First comes the water cannon,

Then a mass of mortars,

The water cannon is a metaphor for the lemon juice that will be squirted onto the pancake. Then the mortars would be the fruit to compliment it.

Charging forward to devour,

Scoop, fold and tear,

With the warm, dressed pancake waiting, it's time for the eater to fold it in half, cut it, and nom nom nom.

The battle over in minutes,

The invaders never stood a chance,

Pancakes are yummy so are likely to be eaten quickly!

Satisfied and in need of rest,

The victors await their next fight.

Stuffed and waiting for next year's pancake day!

Holidays in Menorca

Holidays in Menorca

Cotton wool balls and carpets of green,

Seat belt signs, chicken or beef cuisine

The mother gives birth one by one,

Which baby is which, here comes the fun,

Climbing the steps, we await our tales,

Working our way through stoned walled trails,

The aroma rises up and pulls me in,

This big boy's adventure about to begin

Around the windmill and up the steep slope,

The next obstacle I set out to scope,

He's about my age, I'll go say hi,

Guten tag and eins zwei drei,

Going through the motions,

Time for calamine lotion,

The arms and the pages continue to turn,

Remember that cream Phil or you're going to burn,

The teeth come together and pack up those adapters,

These wonderful memories close this latest chapter.

Explanation

This one is about family holidays to the Spanish island of Menorca that I went to three times with my family as a kid - twice to the same place because we loved it so much!

Cotton wool balls and carpets of green,

Seat belt signs, chicken or beef cuisine

This describes the plane journey to get from Manchester to Mahon. I always think that when you push through the clouds that it's like being surrounded by cotton wool. As the skies clear a sea of green fields emerges.

The mother gives birth one by one,

Which baby is which, here comes the fun,

This refers to the baggage carousel at the airports. As the bags come through onto the conveyor belt, everyone realises that despite their best efforts to personalise their own bags that they ultimately all look the same - just as babies do to me!

Climbing the steps, we await our tales,

Working our way through stoned walled trails,

This is about the coach trip from the airport to the hotel. To a little kid, the steps up the bus are quite big and steep. As with these package holidays, there's always a tour guide to chaperone people and tell them information (and usually a story from their lives) during the trip.

The aroma rises up and pulls me in,

This big boy's adventure about to begin,

I remember where we staying that there were a couple of bakeries that sold delicious bread. It really was yummy (well it must have been if I still remember it 20 years later). I was sometimes entrusted to be a big boy and go collect the fresh morning bread. Magical smells and taste!

Around the windmill and up the steep slope,

The next obstacle I set out to scope,

Opposite our apartment complex was a crazy golf course which I played on quite a lot.

He's about my age, I'll go say hi,

Guten tag and eins zwei drei,

It's always nice for kids to make friends on holidays. I was no different. Oddly enough, I always used to make friends with German kids. The one I remember, probably because for a while we stayed in touch was a boy called Marcus. He was about the same age as me - so around 10 maybe? We got on pretty well and would go off swimming/playing golf etc! Guten tag and eins zwei drei is about all the German I learnt.

Going through the motions,

Time for calamine lotion,

I always used to suffer quite badly with prickly heat when abroad. Fortunately, I don't remember it stopping me from enjoying myself though.

The arms and the pages continue to turn,

Remember that cream Phil or you're going to burn,

Luckily, I didn't burn either. Probably because I was made to wear lots and lots of sun cream. So while I was swimming (arms turning) and my parents reading (pages turning), I'd be fully protected against the sun's rays.

The teeth come together and pack up those adapters,

These wonderful memories close this latest chapter.

As the holiday came to a close, the bags would be packed, filled with dirty washing and zipped up, complete with those special plugs you need when traveling abroad. And so ended the great holiday.

The Innocence of Childhood

The Innocence of Childhood

I gave my hands to these rainbows

To go and see this bright pot of gold

My locks of hair, they dance around,

Just like the notes from my guitar

My spacesuit adorned

To run, scream and shout,

Hold on so tight,

Kick back and ride,

To try and reach,

Those stars afar,

My giggles on show for all to see,

Push me Mum, push!

Jobs, economy and 'leccy bills,

They shall no longer affect my thrills.

Explanation

I gave my hand to these rainbows

The colourful gloves worn by a child

To go and see this bright old pot of gold

Go go outside and play in the sunshine

My locks of hair, they dance around,

Just like the notes from my guitar

How the wind catches the child's hair and blows it around, just as notes dance out of a musician's instrument

My spacesuit adorned

To run, scream and shout,

All wrapped up in warm coat and scarf to go have a laugh

Hold on so tight,

Kick back and ride,

To try and reach,

Those stars afar,

The fun of just playing on a swing and making it work, going higher and higher to reach for the stars

My giggles on show for all to see,

This would be the breath coming from laughter visible in the cold air

Push me Mum, push!

(or take photos or whatever)

Jobs, economy and 'leccy bills,

They shall no longer affect my thrills

A little reminder that we should all take some time occasionally to revisit our inner child, forget about bills and all that rubbish and just enjoy some moments.

The Fifth of November

The Fifth of November

Darkness falls by five,

The skies begin to come alive,

Friends and neighbours young and old,

Huddled up against the cold

Hats and scarves and gloves and coats

The whizzes and bangs sound out their notes,

Potatoes wrapped up in their tin jackets,

One by one they leave their packets,

Carving our names in the cold air,

The men of the house fireworks prepared,

Lighting the fuse and standing well back,

We launch to the sky our nighttime attack,

The whooshes, the whizzes the ooh's and the ahh's,

This annual tradition written amongst the stars

Explanation

Although it's a long way until bonfire night, a conversation on Facebook the other day tickled some neurons and I wrote this.

Darkness falls by five,

The skies begin to come alive,

Once the clocks have gone back at end of October and bonfire night arrives, it is comfortably dark by 5pm. On bonfire night itself (and usually each weekend either side if it falls during the working week), the skies are awash with fireworks exploding into the sky.

Friends and neighbours young and old,

Huddled up against the cold,

For our family, when I was a kid, our family, our next door neighbours and some friends from up the road all got together either at ours or the next door neighbours. Young children, our parents (who as they were above 30 were ancient to us!) all gathered together. Obviously, it's November in the UK, so it's actually not exactly the most inviting weather. Still, if it stays dry, it's not too bad.

Hats and scarves and gloves and coats

The whizzes and bangs sound out their notes,

As the evening goes on, other families would be having their fireworks, and the sky would be illuminated for many hours as if somehow there was an invisible orchestra set up to play in the sky.

Potatoes wrapped up in their tin jackets,

One by one they leave their packets,

For some reason, I always remember that we would have hot jacket potatoes wrapped up in silver tin foil. One by one....refers to both the jacket potatoes being eaten, but also the sparklers being taken out of their packets.

Carving our names in the cold air,

The men of the house fireworks prepared,

I think, and hope that it's impossible for someone to be given a sparkler and not want to write something with it, probably their names. The men of the house isn't in any way shape or form intended to be a sexiest term. But the lighting of fireworks did seem to be a "man's job", at least back then. Perhaps it's the whole "I am man, I make fire" thing!

Lighting the fuse and standing well back,

We launch to the sky our nighttime attack,

Always have to make sure that the fuse is lit and then everyone is standing well back! And then the sky above us lights up with colour.

The whooshes, the whizzes the ooh's and the ahh's,

This annual tradition written amongst the stars.

This is just the "ooh's and ahh's" sounds people make when watching fireworks, and this tradition between these friends and families reaches its peak.