Let me tell you a story about a Boy
Who had a broomstick and a wand as his toy
But alas! Nothing ever goes right
The only thing the Boy remembers from his childhood is a flash of green light
He was orphaned at the age of one
Lily died protecting her son
And his mother's love was a magic he would always carry
His last name was Potter; his first name Harry...
He was the only one to survive the unforgivable curse
No one knew how the spell had fired in reverse
For baby Harry had survived this curse in his cot
The monster who had tried to **** him was Lord Voldemort
The only thing left behind by this curse was what made him special - his scar
But his non magic relatives who took him in lied that it was the result of the crash of a car
Muggles was the name given to these non magic folks
Magic would stare them in the eye and they would still call it a hoax
It was not till his 11th birthday that Harry discovered the truth
When the giant Hagrid broke down the door; a sight that would give nightmares to any youth
While they were all trying to make sense of this human-giant hybrid
'You're a wizard, Harry' revealed Hagrid
Now it all made sense to Harry; the strangeness, the magic
And no his parents did not die in a car; it was way more tragic
So now Harry finally began his seven years at Hogwarts
And it was ensured that the strangeness would multiply now onwards
Harry was surprised to find out that the whole wizarding world knew about him
They were surprised to find out that Harry was not spoiled, but good - natured and slim
So on 1st September Harry Potter boarded the Hogwarts Express
Those who saw him gave him a look of impress
On this train he made his first friends and foe
But that was Harry's new life - with them he would grow
Potions, Charms and Defence Against the Dark Arts to name a few
Those were their subjects and to Harry they were completely new
Thee year passed by without him knowing
And before he knew it, it was already snowing
He became the youngest seeker in a 100 years
It was not until the end of the year that he faced his worst fears
The monster that had tried to **** him had returned
But Harry cheated death again though he almost burned
In the seven years he had many an adventure
The Forbidden Forest was a place he promised himself he would never again venture
He reunited with his Godfather who had been wrongly framed
Harry was the only one to pass out because of the dementors which made him extremely ashamed
The potions master he hated had a history very long
It was only after Snape died Harry realised about him he had been so wrong
Dumbledore's Army finally overthrew Umbridge's reign
The only potion that controlled Lupin was Wolfsbane
This poem has the story in a very haphazard plot
Harry found out how to end Lord Voldemort
For this all the Horcruxes had to be destroyed
This was possible due to Dobby - your argument is void
In these seven years Harry understood friendship and love
Oh and his patronus was a stag; not a rabbit or a dove
To succeed in life you needn't go a great length
Just turn your weakness into your strength
The scar wasn't a curse; it was his gift
This story is about The Boy Who Lived...

A new day, sunny weather,
stressed out, just like any other,
but at least I can watch Harry Potter
and I am watching it on my own, because I was left alone.
Can't reach anyone at the phone, it's because I am alone.
I am sitting here, drinking my beer,
though that I don't really like it, am drowning my fear.
This might be a little weird, but I wish I had a man with a real beard, just like Hagrid.
I feel bored and yet amused, while I create this masterpiece, confused.
I am done with the movie and now have nothing to watch.
Done with my beer, ready for the scotch.
Slowly getting drunk, emptying the glas.
I think it was one too much, am gonna pass.
While I am busy pitying myself, I didn't notice the call.
Checking my phone, there's a message on it but it says nothing good at all.

'Hey You, I've been trying to reach you for hours now, but I guess you're busy with self-pitying yourself again and to be honest, I am tired of this, this is my final goodbye'

Twenty two years ago
     December twenty second,
two thousand eighteen
"star student" born
this papa (and most
     likely thee birth mother)
     initially felt ecstatic,
dramatic (yes frenetic),

and careworn
as freshly minted parents,
     but gifted with a daughter,
     whose existence far
more precious
than any Earthborn
rare widgets, gewgaws,
gems, et cetera, despite

     evoking unsolicited,
unpleasant, and
unmanageable forlorn
communication "dirt poor"
     living (at least ten years
    of wretchedness at 1148
Greentree Lane) unable
to toot our horn,

cuz unbearable, undesirable,
     unforgettable, et cetera,
     and manifold challenged,
when beloved Shana
Punim evinced inborn
developmental delay,
     (which severe electric
     cool aid acid test

     patience of this father),
     much more difficult
than playing krummhorn,
now after tendering the trials

     and tribulations, an
     amalgamation of
     poignant affects,
     whereat your
     permanent presence...
(must never NOT precede mine),
cuz..., I would definitely mourn,
your absence, thus felt the timely

     opportunity to dash off
     a birthday poem to you
     in tandem with sharing,
     (while comfortably numb
and figuratively licking war
torn psychological wombs) - torn
and ripped, queued,
peppered natty psyche

pockmarked with scorn
from self, (and those lives,
this dada immediately
impacted) particularly
your person roar'n
with cumulative anger toward
     this insightful fellow,
(who claims to know

what thee feel toward me),
especially when ****
hours of valuable
     time, now caught
(say, eh...approximately, fraught
upon the half life of rare Earth
element Eden), not
just strictly naught

heard thru the grapevine,
     but forcing Math (hew)
     analysis, via meditation, poetry
     writing therapy, et cetera.
-     -     -     -     -     -     -     -     -    
Hence...I apologize,
asper unasked for pain wrought
thee, sans being unemployed,
demeaning "mother Abby,"
bumbling, horrid house

keeper (Hagrid himself,
would turn down invitation),
plus Facebook fiasco,
imbroglio, and loco
motive - complicit in behavior
-     -     -     -     -     -     -     -     -
comparable to *******,
yet please let me conclude
by admitting total lack
of wherewithal.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEAR DAUGHTER!