26 Oct 2010
Reading Malcolm Anderson’s "A Furry fright on fireworks night" (October 23), then Nancy Byrne’s letter about poetry, reminded me of this poem I wrote some years ago, called Firework show.
In panic he leapt through the window that night,
Half-blinded with terror and frantic with fright.
Paws bloodied and torn, just one thought in his head,
To escape from the noise that had filled him with dread.
The fire-filled sky he could not comprehend,
And so wildly and blindly he raced round the bend.
And then came the headlights; a sickening thud,
And he lay on the road in a pool of red blood.
There he died on the night that the sky split asunder,
When the heavens exploded in fire and thunder.
How could he imagine, how could a dog know,
That what scared him to death was a firework show?
Surely in this day and age, we humans should be able to entertain ourselves in ways that don’t terrify every other creature on Earth.