The Burrow: Potter Poetry, Week Three
To Lily, From James
by Razzy
Dear Miss Evans,
I wanted you to know
I know we’ll always bicker
And hurt and fight and row
But sometimes I stay awake
All night long
Just to listen to the crickets
That chirp to our song
We became friends
Extraordinarily fast
But I know as well as you
Just “friends” wont last
My Dearest Lily,
I write to you today
To tell you that your deep, green eyes
Make me want to say
I love you like the Sun
Loves the sight of Spring
I love you like the Golden Snitch
Loves the Golden Rings
I’ll love you when you get put down
I’ll love you when you cry
I’ll love you when you’re overwhelmed
With happiness and joy
The only thing I ask of you
Is that you know we are the same
Signed with my love,
James
From your servant, Bellatrix
by Lydia
Master, Lord of fear, now hear my plea,
I was distracted, yes, I own I failed,
Forgot what service to your ord’r entailed;
I beg you, Master, beg you, show mercy
Im worthless, useless, but don’t punish me!
Im not alone to blame; I did not know
It smashed. Master, forgive! Not Crucio!
Please, Lord, let me explain, I’ll make you see,
I did all that I could, my loyalty
To you was always first in mind. Malfoy,
I thought, had found the orb; dealt with the boy,
Myself to kill my cousin thus left free.
I see I erred, and in remorse I kneel,
Oh mercy Master! Mercy let me feel!
My master – Lord of fear and Lord of pow’r,
The grandeur of your puissance holds me true
I need not love, nor favor, as my due,
I’ll seek your pleasure, tremble at your glower,
Obeying you, the Dark Order I’ll make flower.
I’ll kill your en’mies first, though, mudbloods, too,
And muggles – lesser beings – I’ll make few;
With pain and death and terror shall come my hour.
Ask me to die; I’d do it in a thought,
(I’ve braved incarceration for your cause)
I’ll ever serve you, recompensed or not,
I’ll own to your Mark proudly, without pause.
Yet dare I, Lord, Extinguisher of Light,
Aspire to be your queen, your Queen of Night?
The Sorting
by J. Lynn Roberts
Nervous, scared, anxious, on a dark, moonlit night,
Joy and anticipation in their eyes,
And for some, even fright.
Get off the train to sail on a boat,
Will it be what they thought?
Had they made a mistake coming here?
For one it’s an adventure he never knew.
For one it’s his family tradition.
For one it was pure luck she had the gift.
Getting off the boat and entering the castle
With eyes gleaming, taking it all in,
Savoring each moment as if they would blink
It would all go away, but one chimes in:
A book I’ve read tells all about this place.
Now being led through a great hall,
With a thousand eyes staring.
How is this special orientation supposed to take place?
Do they see the fear in their faces?
A stool, and a tattered, old hat…
Could it really be that bad?
Abbot, Hannah, a voice calls,
A girl with pig tails looks like she’s going to bawl.
And so the process begins.
Which house will they win?
This Story, This Journey, This Hope
by D.N. Heliotis
Nothing in our world could seem so strange
than a wizard with magic of such range;
but as we hear the owl’s wings
we can start to believe in so many things.
In those words printed upon page
and in these movies that will someday age;
there lies a dream, a story, a world
in which our imaginations, our wit, our hope unfurled.
Yes, at last, we had a young hero,
a sweet soul who was sure he was less than zero.
Harry said he was just a boy
because with the Dursleys he had never known joy.
Then dear old Hagrid came and told him who he was
and that his name could always cause such a buzz.
Ron and Hermione, Hagrid and Dumbledore became friends so fast,
it seemed he had found a family at last.
Between the golden snitch
and the quiddtich pitch;
the period of double potions
and herbology’s very odd lotions;
divination’s deathly predictions
and transfiguration’s transformational afflictions;
this was where life was found
and to this world Harry was bound.
But from that day he got his letter,
trouble would always stick so close like a sweater.
He could never escape the curse of that scar;
the reminder of his dead parents would never be far.
Even magic could not hide this pain;
maybe hope was all in vain.
Through these hardships, adventures, and classes
Harry earned fans in the masses.
We always wonder what is next;
who will soon be hexed?
But more than that, will Harry succeed?
Will he be able to do the deed?
Who will die and who will live?
When someone precious is taken, who could ever forgive?
In this world of magic and wonder,
we find it is still quite easy to be torn asunder.
For power isn’t everything;
it is our friendship, love, trust, and understanding that allow us to take wing.
So as we soar,
along with Harry in his dreadful war,
we keep our faith
and we hope he is kept safe.
As we all know, the road ahead is hard and long,
But in our hearts this story, this journey, this hope will always belong.