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"harry" poems
Harry Heironymous Huffenhoffer was leading a lonely life working nights at the fukfoorfiffenfimmer factory where he was in charge of loading crates full of fukfoorfiffenfimmers, onto cargo cars destined for the city of Cincinnati. There was such a huge demand for fukfoorfiffenfimmers in the city of Cincinnati, poor Harry Heironymous Huffenhoffer worked his hunnyhush to the bone. On one of his few holiday weekends, Harry Heironymous Huffenhoffer went to a hair salon for a trim. Here he was attended by a hairdresser named, Henrietta Huckhellopolis. Harry Heironymous Huffenhoffer instantly fell for the husky-voiced hairdresser. Gaining enough gumption and gallasisgoppingguff needed to bypass beating around the bush of courteous courtship, Harry Heironymous Huffenhoffer asked Henrietta Huckhellopolis if she wanted to leerlumpaloomp later that evening. "I would love to leerlumpaloomp later this evening," she replied, batting her long lashes lustily. And how those two leerlumpaloomped! They leerlumpaloomped long through the night. They leerlumpaloomped so loudly, the neighbours ended up sticking stuffystoils into their sensilivities, in hopes of drowning out the noise. Nine months later, the lovers were blessed with a litter of lullaloonillies—wot with the loud leerlumpaloomping and all. But, of the seven lullaloonillies, four of them had two lumpalots instead of one. Bolstering himself against drowning in despair at the prospect of having sired freak lullaloonillies, Harry Heironymous Huffenhoffer helped design fukfoorfiffenfimmers especially meant for lullaloonillies who have two lumpalots instead of one. As the double-lumpalot fukfoorfiffenfimmers were Harry Heironymous Huffenhoffer's idea, the owner of the fukfoorfiffenfimmer factory gave Harry Heironymous Huffenhoffer a forty percent cut of the royalties. *Fortunately some fairy tales come with a happy ending, because the city of Cincinnati was hit with a record number of lullaloonillies born with two lumpalots instead of just the one. The high sales of double-lumpalot fukfoorfiffenfimmers, enabled Harry Heironymous Huffenhoffer and Henrietta Huckhellopolis to quit their jobs and buy into the fukfoorfiffenfimmer factory. Yes, after getting married, Harry Heironymous and Henrietta Huckhellopolis-Huffenhoffer lived happily hever hafter. So did the lullaloonillies.... including those with two lumpalots instead of one.*
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Sep 6, 2011
Sep 6, 2011 at 1:16 PM UTC
When Harry Heironymous Huffenhoffer Met Henrietta Huckhellopolis
Harry Heironymous Huffenhoffer was leading a lonely life working nights at the fukfoorfiffenfimmer factory where he was in charge of loading crates full of fukfoorfiffenfimmers, onto cargo cars destined for the city of Cincinnati. There was such a huge demand for fukfoorfiffenfimmers in the city of Cincinnati, poor Harry Heironymous Huffenhoffer worked his hunnyhush to the bone. On one of his few holiday weekends, Harry Heironymous Huffenhoffer went to a hair salon for a trim. Here he was attended by a hairdresser named, Henrietta Huckhellopolis. Harry Heironymous Huffenhoffer instantly fell for the husky-voiced hairdresser. Gaining enough gumption and gallasisgoppingguff needed to bypass beating around the bush of courteous courtship, Harry Heironymous Huffenhoffer asked Henrietta Huckhellopolis if she wanted to leerlumpaloomp later that evening. "I would love to leerlumpaloomp later this evening," she replied, batting her long lashes lustily. And how those two leerlumpaloomped! They leerlumpaloomped long through the night. They leerlumpaloomped so loudly, the neighbours ended up sticking stuffystoils into their sensilivities, in hopes of drowning out the noise. Nine months later, the lovers were blessed with a litter of lullaloonillies—wot with the loud leerlumpaloomping and all. But, of the seven lullaloonillies, four of them had two lumpalots instead of one. Bolstering himself against drowning in despair at the prospect of having sired freak lullaloonillies, Harry Heironymous Huffenhoffer helped design fukfoorfiffenfimmers especially meant for lullaloonillies who have two lumpalots instead of one. As the double-lumpalot fukfoorfiffenfimmers were Harry Heironymous Huffenhoffer's idea, the owner of the fukfoorfiffenfimmer factory gave Harry Heironymous Huffenhoffer a forty percent cut of the royalties. *Fortunately some fairy tales come with a happy ending, because the city of Cincinnati was hit with a record number of lullaloonillies born with two lumpalots instead of just the one. The high sales of double-lumpalot fukfoorfiffenfimmers, enabled Harry Heironymous Huffenhoffer and Henrietta Huckhellopolis to quit their jobs and buy into the fukfoorfiffenfimmer factory. Yes, after getting married, Harry Heironymous and Henrietta Huckhellopolis-Huffenhoffer lived happily hever hafter. So did the lullaloonillies.... including those with two lumpalots instead of one.*
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37
fall was in the air and it was a very dreary october day. the halls of the old victorian house had been filled with new arivals and lots of noise. "i can barely hear myself think." Madison sneered, a cigarette in her hand as she stood next to zoey and nan in the hallway. looking at the new girls with disguist. "and none of these new ******* better step on my toes. this isnt ******* hogwarts." she rolled her eyes. "hogwarts." zoey laughed, making nan laugh aswell. "if this were hogwarts, you would be draco malfoy" nan joked. "hardy har har." Madison snickered. "and you would be harry potters fat cousin because your ugly and nobody loves you." madison smiled. "well, i think it's great." zoey said cheerfully. "all of these girls would feel lost and alone and now they have somewhere to belong.". "you would say that." Madison rolled her eyes. suddenly a slightly younger girl with big green eyes and long brown hair and freckles rushed up to the three of them with a gleam in her eye. "oh my god it is you! you're madison montgomery!" the girl explained. " i love you! will you sign my back pack?" the girl turned around and Madison pulled a pink highlighter out of the side of her floral backpack. her face lit up as she wrote her name on the backpack making zoey and nan smile aswell. "thank you! thank you! thank you! you're my idol." the girl blushed. "my name is Cassie motts, i've seen all of your movies, i love you! i love you! i love you!" the girl giggled. "alright.." Madison had been taken back a step. "have a great day you little ****** she smiled, a look of confusion hung upon her face. "thank you.. you dont know how much this means to me." the girl explained cheerfully and walked away. "well ladies it looks like we're the head honchoes around this **** show." Madison sighed, still slightly smiling. "i was always the head honchoe." nan replied. "yeah, okay, right." zoey rolled her eyes and smiled at nan as the three made there way down the hall together.
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Jan 28, 2015
Jan 28, 2015 at 7:14 PM UTC
im going to write my own american horror story:coven fan fic here because i am bored.
fall was in the air and it was a very dreary october day. the halls of the old victorian house had been filled with new arivals and lots of noise. "i can barely hear myself think." Madison sneered, a cigarette in her hand as she stood next to zoey and nan in the hallway. looking at the new girls with disguist. "and none of these new ******* better step on my toes. this isnt ******* hogwarts." she rolled her eyes. "hogwarts." zoey laughed, making nan laugh aswell. "if this were hogwarts, you would be draco malfoy" nan joked. "hardy har har." Madison snickered. "and you would be harry potters fat cousin because your ugly and nobody loves you." madison smiled. "well, i think it's great." zoey said cheerfully. "all of these girls would feel lost and alone and now they have somewhere to belong.". "you would say that." Madison rolled her eyes. suddenly a slightly younger girl with big green eyes and long brown hair and freckles rushed up to the three of them with a gleam in her eye. "oh my god it is you! you're madison montgomery!" the girl explained. " i love you! will you sign my back pack?" the girl turned around and Madison pulled a pink highlighter out of the side of her floral backpack. her face lit up as she wrote her name on the backpack making zoey and nan smile aswell. "thank you! thank you! thank you! you're my idol." the girl blushed. "my name is Cassie motts, i've seen all of your movies, i love you! i love you! i love you!" the girl giggled. "alright.." Madison had been taken back a step. "have a great day you little ****** she smiled, a look of confusion hung upon her face. "thank you.. you dont know how much this means to me." the girl explained cheerfully and walked away. "well ladies it looks like we're the head honchoes around this **** show." Madison sighed, still slightly smiling. "i was always the head honchoe." nan replied. "yeah, okay, right." zoey rolled her eyes and smiled at nan as the three made there way down the hall together.
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Harry hedgehog in the hedgerow saw a tasty treat Harry hedgehog in the hedgerow thought the taste so sweet Harry hedgehog in the hedgerow licked his sticky lips Harry hedgehog in the hedgerow spitting out the pips Harry hedgehog in the hedgerow looked around for more Harry hedgehog in the hedgerow ate an apple core Harry hedgehog in the hedgerow rolled into a ball Harry hedgehog in the hedgerow loved the fruits of fall
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Dec 4, 2012
Dec 4, 2012 at 8:55 PM UTC
Harry Hedgehog
The comic convention has cardboard cutouts of all of the main characters of Harry Potter. Harry, Ron, Hermione, etc. All motionless in a river of people, glossy but worn down, bathed in cold white halogen. And one by one, the cosplayers— the Harrys Rons Hermiones, etc. Have their pictures taken with the cutouts, one cardboard cutout cut out and replaced with a real human being. Being human, we crave companionship, fear solitude, crave solitude, fear companionship. We try to avoid becoming cardboard cutouts of ourselves, but sometimes a retreat into inanimacy is what the animus needs. The cosplayers continue to shuffle forward in line each waiting to pose for a selfie.  Each politely smiling at the living Harry Potter characters around them, but not striking up a conversation.
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Aug 3, 2014
Aug 3, 2014 at 8:35 PM UTC
On being an Introvert
Outside of a bar in a North Carolina strip mall, stone cold sober because I am scared to use my fake, I feel drunk as you sit next to me. Perhaps I am. I'd have to be to think maybe, maybe, maybe, when I know, I know, I know. Your hand brushes against mine, and you're saying the most beautiful words I've ever heard, and the fire in my heart spreads up, down, left, right. But it cannot spread just four inches outside of my body. It cannot set you on fire, too. We listen to each other and hear two very different things. You are birdsong outside of my window that I am eager to hear; I am traffic outside of your window you've learned to tune out at bedtime.   If there are nine million bicycles in Beijing, then Beijing is my insides and bicycles are your name, because it is written on my insides nine million times. But there are no bicycles on Antarctica. There is no use for them there, just as there's no use for my name to be perched on a straight girl's ribs. You tell me my weird hobby of listening to French rap music is awesome, that it's so cool that I'm teaching myself three languages, and that you want to be me when you grow up - I laugh, because you're several years older than me. Selfishly I catch every droplet of your praise.  I ruminate on it for hours, for days. It means more to me than it should. My name sounds like a compliment from your mouth. I try not to say yours too often, so you don't grow tired of me being around. If I can't set your insides on fire, I want you to want to be my friend. Even that feels like I ask for too much. In every scene, I see you in the foreground of the narrative. For me, it would be on honor to be one of your background characters. Narratives are richer with them anyway. I look at you and you are the Harry Potter movie marathon I wait months for. For you, I am the 2 am infomercial you fell asleep to. But I don't mind half as much as I should. Even white noise has its place in someone's life.
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Sep 6, 2018
Sep 6, 2018 at 10:17 PM UTC
White Noise
Outside of a bar in a North Carolina strip mall, stone cold sober because I am scared to use my fake, I feel drunk as you sit next to me. Perhaps I am. I'd have to be to think maybe, maybe, maybe, when I know, I know, I know. Your hand brushes against mine, and you're saying the most beautiful words I've ever heard, and the fire in my heart spreads up, down, left, right. But it cannot spread just four inches outside of my body. It cannot set you on fire, too. We listen to each other and hear two very different things. You are birdsong outside of my window that I am eager to hear; I am traffic outside of your window you've learned to tune out at bedtime.   If there are nine million bicycles in Beijing, then Beijing is my insides and bicycles are your name, because it is written on my insides nine million times. But there are no bicycles on Antarctica. There is no use for them there, just as there's no use for my name to be perched on a straight girl's ribs. You tell me my weird hobby of listening to French rap music is awesome, that it's so cool that I'm teaching myself three languages, and that you want to be me when you grow up - I laugh, because you're several years older than me. Selfishly I catch every droplet of your praise.  I ruminate on it for hours, for days. It means more to me than it should. My name sounds like a compliment from your mouth. I try not to say yours too often, so you don't grow tired of me being around. If I can't set your insides on fire, I want you to want to be my friend. Even that feels like I ask for too much. In every scene, I see you in the foreground of the narrative. For me, it would be on honor to be one of your background characters. Narratives are richer with them anyway. I look at you and you are the Harry Potter movie marathon I wait months for. For you, I am the 2 am infomercial you fell asleep to. But I don't mind half as much as I should. Even white noise has its place in someone's life.
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Following are several translations of the 'Old Pond' poem, which may be the most famous of all haiku: Furuike ya kawazu tobikomu mizu no oto -- Basho Literal Translation Fu-ru (old) i-ke (pond) ya, ka-wa-zu (frog) to-bi-ko-mu (jumping into) mi-zu (water) no o-to (sound) The old pond-- a frog jumps in, sound of water. Translated by Robert Hass Old pond... a frog jumps in water's sound. Translated by William J. Higginson An old silent pond... A frog jumps into the pond, splash! Silence again. Translated by Harry Behn There is the old pond! Lo, into it jumps a frog: hark, water's music! Translated by John Bryan The silent old pond a mirror of ancient calm, a frog-leaps-in splash. Translated by Dion O'Donnol old pond frog leaping splash Translated by Cid Corman Antic pond-- frantic frog jumps in-- gigantic sound. Translated by Bernard Lionel Einbond MAFIA HIT MAN POET: NOTE FOUND PINNED TO LAPEL OF DROWNED VICTIM'S DOUBLE-BREASTED SUIT!!! 'Dere wasa dis frogg Gone jumpa offa da logg Now he inna bogg.' -- Anonymous Translated by George M. Young, Jr. Old pond leap -- splash a frog. Translated by Lucien Stryck The old pond, A frog jumps in:. Plop! Translated by Allan Watts The old pond, yes, and A frog is jumping into The water, and splash. Translated by G.S. Fraser
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The old pond
Don't think for a second I am going to wear a dress and watch Titanic or The Notebook with you- We are going to have a Firefly marathon whit too much food and I'll wear a hoodie, or Watch Mad Max Fury road, but darling, don't expect me to be like the other girls- on somedays I even ain't one, and even when I am- Star Wars and Harry Potter are still favorite- Star Trek and Supernatural, Sherlock and Doctor Who, so you better keep up with my geekyness or you won'the know when I love you. I love you- I know Because sweetie I am a geek and a fangirl ;)
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Sep 17, 2015
Sep 17, 2015 at 11:53 AM UTC
If you were dating le me the geek ;)
Part II  of "Got 0 Followers" aim high to keep it low expectations such an Awesome Awful curse others infect you with don't, yada yada, ya wanna be like Tom, **** and Jane, even Harry, a transgendered friend and fellow (ha) outcast, all with a good job prospects of a goodly tented long life? so ya write poems to nobody about nothing and you are pleased to be pleasing just yourself in writing you have nothing to prove, so read them like keepsakes ya like, keep 'em & me hid, in the shoebox under the closeted pile of ***** clothes, special designer outfits concocted so they keep my remains, privatized and unsanitized, my equity, hidden, disguised as disgusting but for god-sakes don't follow me, unless you want to curse us both with Expectations of Expectations, then comes with illiteracy of Affection then the literary pre-tension that always follows, leading to Affectation, the first derivative of the infection of affection yeah, then comes caring and it instantly it's too late, you're ******* right up the mental heine, lost condemned ruined annihilated crushed subverted crushed into mental death camp suffocation of more, please ma, can I have some more? crap, why did you have to go and follow me?
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Mar 8, 2015
Mar 8, 2015 at 8:14 PM UTC
the expectation of expectations March 2015 (crap, why did you have to go and follow me?)
The gusts of wind rustle through his dark hair as he rides his broomstick In the search of the golden snitch – In the search of the ferrety golden snitch. And in his mind whizzes past an image – at lightning speed, very swiftly, As his expert eyes go after the small shiny metallic ball. The Nimbus 2000 he once owned has now been replaced with another In the attempt to make him quicker – In the attempt to make him quicker. His eyes look like his mother Lily’s – His father James was a Seeker, This is an analogy of a natural case of heredity in Harry. The old broomstick Nimbus 2000 he owned was broken into pieces In his third year at the school of magic – In his third year at Hogwarts. Dementors attacked him – in the Quidditch pitch during a match, And he fell several feet below from air before Dumbledore saved him.
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Apr 3, 2013
Apr 3, 2013 at 3:20 AM UTC
My Slam Poem About Harry Potter
The already preset disposition of being Asian. I must've been accidentally mixed in the wrong laundry basket, because they tell me I'm white-washed. Born with foreign looks but a native tongue my birth certificate calls me ***** I would be the blonde-hair-blue-eyes of a country on the other side of the world but here, I'm still considered an immigrant in my own home. When you are Asian-American, you are also the stereotypes that trail your title. You are sushi You are jackie-chan You are karate You are good grades You are the slant-eyed pignose supporting character WELCOME TO THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA LAND OF THE FREE, HOME OF THE BRAVE WHERE UNITED IS TRANSLATED AS DISCRIMINATED! BUT DON'T GET IT TWISTED, ASIANS ARE PRETTY COOL! Excuse me straight misogynist white male, your Godzilla type of Asian, or my culture? When have I as an individual played a character in these quote on quote American movies? Hmm oh yeah, that's right! I was in Fast and Furious! Didn't I also make an appearance in Harry Potter as the cute innocent Cho Chang? If this also applies to you can I please have your autograph because I'm pretty sure I've seen you star in every movie I've ever seen. Or at least your people, right? Don't try to tone down the damage I already know I'm categorized in this Asian fetish that all you'll ever see in me is rice and anime, nothing more, nothing less. And if I were to become an author instead of a doctor, I'd be considered as a social unnorm a disgrace but isn't it already disgraceful that in this bleached-colors world I have lost touch of my heritage, my roots replaced with a skeleton idea of who I'm supposed to be I wear a mask. My friends speak to my mom in their native language. Sitting there, disoriented, lost in pronunciation I ask my mother why she did not teach me her natural tongue. She says, "because you are American." And I still do not believe her.
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Oct 13, 2014
Oct 13, 2014 at 11:48 PM UTC
null
The already preset disposition of being Asian. I must've been accidentally mixed in the wrong laundry basket, because they tell me I'm white-washed. Born with foreign looks but a native tongue my birth certificate calls me ***** I would be the blonde-hair-blue-eyes of a country on the other side of the world but here, I'm still considered an immigrant in my own home. When you are Asian-American, you are also the stereotypes that trail your title. You are sushi You are jackie-chan You are karate You are good grades You are the slant-eyed pignose supporting character WELCOME TO THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA LAND OF THE FREE, HOME OF THE BRAVE WHERE UNITED IS TRANSLATED AS DISCRIMINATED! BUT DON'T GET IT TWISTED, ASIANS ARE PRETTY COOL! Excuse me straight misogynist white male, your Godzilla type of Asian, or my culture? When have I as an individual played a character in these quote on quote American movies? Hmm oh yeah, that's right! I was in Fast and Furious! Didn't I also make an appearance in Harry Potter as the cute innocent Cho Chang? If this also applies to you can I please have your autograph because I'm pretty sure I've seen you star in every movie I've ever seen. Or at least your people, right? Don't try to tone down the damage I already know I'm categorized in this Asian fetish that all you'll ever see in me is rice and anime, nothing more, nothing less. And if I were to become an author instead of a doctor, I'd be considered as a social unnorm a disgrace but isn't it already disgraceful that in this bleached-colors world I have lost touch of my heritage, my roots replaced with a skeleton idea of who I'm supposed to be I wear a mask. My friends speak to my mom in their native language. Sitting there, disoriented, lost in pronunciation I ask my mother why she did not teach me her natural tongue. She says, "because you are American." And I still do not believe her.
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I've been in a writing slump lately. I don't know why. I've been focusing on being a real human being again - getting back into school, being more sober, working more, making more money, working out, being more social. But whenever I find the time to write I just feel tired and want to sit on my *** watching tv. I don't know, this is just a rant I guess. I'm going to try to work on it. Keep scribbling guys- Harry J. Baxter
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Mar 31, 2014
Mar 31, 2014 at 10:44 PM UTC
Not a poem: status update/ rant
"Wingardium Leviosa!" that's your spell. But it didn't work, I didn't float I fell. "Alohamora!" you said to my heart and again "Accio!" to find its broken parts. We can love each other forever and always like Snape to Lily. Be hysterical and weird like Bellatrix crazy. Let's run away and be free; free as an elf like Dobby. A sock makes him happy, little things count. It's precious just like this love I found. You know, you're not that different from Harry. Without the scar, you're the boy who lived for me. It's like the world vanishes when we're this close, time feels both slow and fast, our words echoes. You're as keen as the Ravenclaw seeing beauty hidden in every flaw. Loveable like the mark of the badger, got that trait of Slytherin clever. I found what I was searching for. You, my strong-heart lion of Gryffindor.
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Jul 14, 2014
Jul 14, 2014 at 7:18 AM UTC
Potterhead Love
little harry hamster he just loved to spin in his hamster wheel harry he climbed in spinning round and round he would spin all day he was always happy and always loved to play children they all loved him when putting on his show round and round in circles hamster he would go then we he got tired he would rest his head then fall fast asleep inside his little bed
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Aug 7, 2014
Aug 7, 2014 at 7:15 AM UTC
harry hamster
I don’t know your favourite colour Or what you sing in the shower. But I want to. You’re a stranger, Yet you held my hand and told me everything you thought of And all I forgot to think of. You kissed me, With your scary hazel eyes Following my every emotion. I still don’t know how to feel. You’re a stranger, Yet you have a name, Eight siblings, A love for Harry Potter. You have a smile that really does make me feel ugly. How can you be so calm? How can you feel so sure of who you are and what you want? You’re a stranger, But not for long. Even if there are no more kisses, I want to know what you think about alone at night; how you like your tea. I want to know every inch of your soul, Because if you can see even an ounce of good in me, You must be a sort of dreamer
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May 20, 2018
May 20, 2018 at 6:02 AM UTC
Scary Hazel
I am a nerd: * DnD * Harry Potter * Lord of the Rings * WoW * Anime * Reading * Video Games * Comic book heroes * Science * Math * Hunger games * Steampunk * Disney!!! * Futurama * Star Wars * Doctor Who * Breaking Bad * Archer * 90's Cartoons * Invader Zim I am a Metal head \m/ * Nightwish * Sabaton * Ozzy Osbourne * Iron Maiden * Epica * Van Canto * Dealian * Hammerfall * DragonForce I love my life: * My love * My family * My Job as a preschool teacher * having fun This is who I am and I don't care if any one thinks of me!
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Jul 1, 2014
Jul 1, 2014 at 12:19 AM UTC
A little bit about me!
Sir Jerome Mrs Michael Miss Lucy Mister Wendy Ma'am Kate I hear all these names at once I hear all these things at once I can hear everything A glass just shattered It was loud for them It was louder for me Don't be rude! "I need to get some more raspberries tomorrow-" "Remember Harry's anniversary is next week-" All these words combined Making me lose my mind "I need to get- Harry's anniversary is  next week-" " remember- some more raspberries tomorrow-" I'm shaking I'm being stared at I can't see But I know they're staring Don't take pity I'm used to it There's a woman touching me She's touching my shoulder She's speaking in a 'can I help you ma'am?' voice But I can't hear what she's saying It's under- "Get a chair!" Water I see her again She's rubbing my back I think I'm screaming I can hear screaming I don't know if it's me It doesn't sound like me But it also sounds like me "What's up with her?" "Don't be rude!" The room blurs. It fades. Everything fades. Then I'm outside. The woman is still there. She's still speaking in that stupid voice. I wanna tell her that I'm not a toddler. But I do appreciate what she did. So I decide not to be rude
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Oct 1, 2018
Oct 1, 2018 at 1:47 AM UTC
Am I Being Rude?
I’m not good at being forward I have this habit of becoming disordered I let my emotions change the color of my sleeve In my aspirations I hope to find belief I walk through jungles and rainforests Once in a while I see through the canopy Into the skies of my memories And request that stars dance to the rhythm of us I keep them alive to avoid the gathering of dust My memories, caught in the Pensieve of your eyes Have ignored all the times I told myself lies I may not be your ideal Superman But I’d accept Peter Pan if you’ll go with me to Neverland I’ve rarely been so captivated by a girl Sure, Zooey Deschanel is quirky in New Girl And Emma Watson bewitched me from the start Anna Kendrick was perfect in Pitch Perfect Alex Morgan is the luckiest 13 I’ve ever seen But I choose you! To fill my canteen You quench my thirst when the loneliness dries me I was not made to walk in a desert My heart is an amphibian Living like a Floridian in the ice-cold tundra we call Rexburg You still need the sun, no matter how much it snows I’ll trudge on in the jungle; dormant in the night I’ll carry on with you in mind, until the time is right Once I’ve faced death, or even a spider Then, I think I’ll top the greats; George of the Jungle, Aslan, Mogly, Tarzan, Batman, Peter Pan, Harry Potter, Genghis Kahn, Michael… Jackson or Jordan They’re all kings and I’ll be in their league As I shake off the fatigue and find courage in you To make it through the awkward moment of simply saying “You’re a real kind of gorgeous” In that chorus, played on my rhythm of heartbeats I found my way out of the back streets From deep in the jungle I’ve come to know as Fear A jungle that disappears when your presence is near Sometimes I have to stop walking, stop thinking I feel like I’m on the verge of something spectacular Anything normal might ruin that
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Oct 27, 2012
Oct 27, 2012 at 11:14 PM UTC
On the Verge of Spectacular
I’m not good at being forward I have this habit of becoming disordered I let my emotions change the color of my sleeve In my aspirations I hope to find belief I walk through jungles and rainforests Once in a while I see through the canopy Into the skies of my memories And request that stars dance to the rhythm of us I keep them alive to avoid the gathering of dust My memories, caught in the Pensieve of your eyes Have ignored all the times I told myself lies I may not be your ideal Superman But I’d accept Peter Pan if you’ll go with me to Neverland I’ve rarely been so captivated by a girl Sure, Zooey Deschanel is quirky in New Girl And Emma Watson bewitched me from the start Anna Kendrick was perfect in Pitch Perfect Alex Morgan is the luckiest 13 I’ve ever seen But I choose you! To fill my canteen You quench my thirst when the loneliness dries me I was not made to walk in a desert My heart is an amphibian Living like a Floridian in the ice-cold tundra we call Rexburg You still need the sun, no matter how much it snows I’ll trudge on in the jungle; dormant in the night I’ll carry on with you in mind, until the time is right Once I’ve faced death, or even a spider Then, I think I’ll top the greats; George of the Jungle, Aslan, Mogly, Tarzan, Batman, Peter Pan, Harry Potter, Genghis Kahn, Michael… Jackson or Jordan They’re all kings and I’ll be in their league As I shake off the fatigue and find courage in you To make it through the awkward moment of simply saying “You’re a real kind of gorgeous” In that chorus, played on my rhythm of heartbeats I found my way out of the back streets From deep in the jungle I’ve come to know as Fear A jungle that disappears when your presence is near Sometimes I have to stop walking, stop thinking I feel like I’m on the verge of something spectacular Anything normal might ruin that
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If Doraemon is real, I'll use his 'Hopter' to go above the clouds Shout all my pains and get out from the crowd, Wait for the rain and see the lightning strike the ground. If Doraemon is real, I'll use his 'anywhere door' to travel around the world Oh, I'll bring my wardrobe, my lover, my bed and even my dog With one step, I can go anywhere and  write it on my blog. If Doraemon is real, I'll use his 'copying toast' to get different certifications I'll memorize Merriam, Websters, Harry Potter and have an oration I'll be the smartest person alive and wait I can feel the mutation! If Doraemon is real, I'll use his 'dress up camera' to get all all the dress that I want I'm going to wear Gucci, Prada, Channel and even Dolce and Gabbana I'll be more than the Hollywood stars, yeah I don't need Santa. But Doraemon is not real, He's not even mine, he is Nobita's childhood best friend. That show taught me a great lesson - you don't need any gadget to be happy, to have friends, to be satisfied or to feel loved.
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Jun 25, 2015
Jun 25, 2015 at 10:29 PM UTC
Doraemon
She was carefully crafted to be fragile but choose to be a diamond over a coal. Her skin reminds me of bed where I can be both vulnerable and secured. A place to rest my head. She may not know it but to me her hair smelled like home on a summer night. Her hands were so small yet when she holds mine, she holds my whole world along with it. She loves cats, vintage cameras, Ed Sheeran, the beach road trips, the rural life, Harry Potter, of course she's a potterhead These are the things that bring color to her. Then fireflies emerge from their slumber to gather around her. If I were to paint just her eyes I'd get a night sky And in it lies her vast number of quirks in which, more often than not I find myself lost. Her voice echo with melodies beyond what I could comprehend But this is love, not logic. I believe I was not meant to understand her. I believe I was meant to love her.
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Jun 17, 2017
Jun 17, 2017 at 8:48 AM UTC
How Best to Describe Her
vintage polaroids mountain air girl scout cookies summer hair ed sheeran lyrics mint lemonade blowing bubbles christmas parade harry potter winter park crew biscoff spread morning dew british accents plaid shirts old castles chocolate desserts breakfast for dinner big bang theory quotes shakespearean language cape cod sailboats sweet nostalgia the smell of books longing wanderlust forest nook 80s movies neon lights time with friends caramel delights the great gatsby walk the moon old typewriters plumerias bloom bombay bicycle club chinese cuisine abstract art seafoam green vineyard vines life of pi scuba diving monarch butterfly
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May 8, 2013
May 8, 2013 at 9:54 PM UTC
{i like}
Snitch-catcher. Cauldron-stirrer. Wand-waver. Quidditch-player. Stone-retriever. Riddle-killer. Buckbeak-rider. Triwizard-enterer. Phoenix-member. Snape-hater. Voldemort-fighter.
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Dec 19, 2012
Dec 19, 2012 at 4:20 PM UTC
Harry Potter
Dear Ronald Bilius Weasley No matter what others say I will always be your fan You are such a marvellous character Not perhaps, a perfect one But a character with flaws So real, and so beautiful That we can totally relate to it In your first year at Hogwarts You played a game of chess In such a magnificent manner That even the Russians of the Muggle world Could not have done any better In your second year at Hogwarts You faced your greatest fears With a courage and nerve That Godric Gryffindor would have been proud of For the sake of your best mates In your third year at Hogwarts You almost ruined a friendship For the sake of a rat and a broomstick But you made amends for it By standing up to a notorious murderer That too with a broken leg Again, for the sake of your best mate In your fourth year at Hogwarts Again, there was a misunderstanding That threatened to derail a strong friendship But you were there for Harry When it truly mattered There was also some ugly ****** jealousy As your teenage hormones took centrestage But at least you got an inkling That you and Hermione Were made for each other In your fifth year at Hogwarts There was a lot you had to put up with The constant bullying of the Slytherins Especially during Quidditch matches The temper tantrums of your best friend And finally, the evil Dolores Jane Umbridge Initially, due to your nerves and insecurities Your Quidditch performances went from bad to worse But then, you finally showed us The stuff you were made of Saving goals left, right and centre And to cap it all You bravely fought a dozen Death Eaters Yet again, for the sake of your best friend Finally, we come to the war Due to your never-ending insecurities And anxiety for your family Worsened by a dreadful locket That contained a part of Voldemort's soul You briefly deserted your best mates But returned when it mattered the most Even saving Harry's life in the process And then, as you destroyed that darned locket You finally conquered your fears And transitioned successfully to manhood Finally, during the Battle of Hogwarts You showed us your sensitive side A side that we had never seen before As you displayed your concern for the house-elves Precipitating your first kiss with Hermione Later on, you lost your dear brother But continued to soldier on bravely Even standing up to Voldemort himself Hence, dear Ronald Bilius Weasley No matter what others say I will always be your fan
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Aug 9, 2020
Aug 9, 2020 at 9:28 AM UTC
I will always be your fan
Dear Ronald Bilius Weasley No matter what others say I will always be your fan You are such a marvellous character Not perhaps, a perfect one But a character with flaws So real, and so beautiful That we can totally relate to it In your first year at Hogwarts You played a game of chess In such a magnificent manner That even the Russians of the Muggle world Could not have done any better In your second year at Hogwarts You faced your greatest fears With a courage and nerve That Godric Gryffindor would have been proud of For the sake of your best mates In your third year at Hogwarts You almost ruined a friendship For the sake of a rat and a broomstick But you made amends for it By standing up to a notorious murderer That too with a broken leg Again, for the sake of your best mate In your fourth year at Hogwarts Again, there was a misunderstanding That threatened to derail a strong friendship But you were there for Harry When it truly mattered There was also some ugly ****** jealousy As your teenage hormones took centrestage But at least you got an inkling That you and Hermione Were made for each other In your fifth year at Hogwarts There was a lot you had to put up with The constant bullying of the Slytherins Especially during Quidditch matches The temper tantrums of your best friend And finally, the evil Dolores Jane Umbridge Initially, due to your nerves and insecurities Your Quidditch performances went from bad to worse But then, you finally showed us The stuff you were made of Saving goals left, right and centre And to cap it all You bravely fought a dozen Death Eaters Yet again, for the sake of your best friend Finally, we come to the war Due to your never-ending insecurities And anxiety for your family Worsened by a dreadful locket That contained a part of Voldemort's soul You briefly deserted your best mates But returned when it mattered the most Even saving Harry's life in the process And then, as you destroyed that darned locket You finally conquered your fears And transitioned successfully to manhood Finally, during the Battle of Hogwarts You showed us your sensitive side A side that we had never seen before As you displayed your concern for the house-elves Precipitating your first kiss with Hermione Later on, you lost your dear brother But continued to soldier on bravely Even standing up to Voldemort himself Hence, dear Ronald Bilius Weasley No matter what others say I will always be your fan
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Goodbye my beloved my best friend my cartoon strip my spicy blend my confidant' my story-teller too my source of bliss my beautiful you Goodbye my soulmate my aggravation my dewey tears my joyous elation my dark devil my saving knight my funky mixed salad my angel in white Goodbye my jellybean my every color my brilliant star my only stellar my addictin high my curvy wurvy road my far away companion my emotional garbage load Goodbye my truck driver my ever pessimist my deep sad poet my christmas list my squishy hug my dictionary my thesarus too my harry-carry Goodbye my healing crystal my happy thought my **** dreams my man I have not my heaven on eath my hell here too my disneyland my passion that grew Goodbye my mysterious moon my brick wall my favorite song my bounce to the ball my craziest joke my sun in winter my dirtiest thought my fantasy reader Goodbye my phone friend my tug of war my fleshy goosepimples my bird that soars my bright lightening my roaring thunder my white rose my hopes down under Goodbye my perfect lover my satin sheet my carribean vacation my favorite treat my majestic mountain my green thumb my cycle rider my last crumb Goodbye my first spring rain my catalyst my curious dreamer my lemon twist my catch of the day my white cloud my emotional abyss my cake upside down Goodbye my only you my hopeless dream my love of loves my everything
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Nov 15, 2009
Nov 15, 2009 at 5:26 AM UTC
Goodbye Tommy
Megan my partner in crime my bumble bee twin my best friend Best friends since second grade that's.... what 15 years now? 16? Sleepovers at eachothers homes Pixie stick highs and slushy brain freezes Trips to my grandmother's, for a Harry Potter Marathon Rocking out to Halestorm Daughters of Darkness through and through Foil art doodling and reading through the night Did I mention the trip to Walmart? ten at night just for a loaf of bread? Screaming at eachother, throwing punches Calling names so bad tears start to form Saying we're through we're done mo more friendship two minutes later laughing stupidly together Our favorite place, Weedamo woods, High Rock, queens of the world I visit those memories in my dreams I miss my soul sister my best friend for life I miss being able to call you up and yell *"YO ***** come get me I need to talk."* You're still my bestie and you always will b This separation don't forget is only temporary. I'll move down there soon and together we can rec havoc once more until then please don't forget me I know I haven't forgotten you.
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Mar 28, 2015
Mar 28, 2015 at 11:30 AM UTC
MY Partner In Crime