"muggles" poems
I asked again but my hope refused to extinguish,
It smiled and told I had always been distinguished.
So, I kept checking my mail box even if it seemed lame,
I kept waiting and waiting but that Hogwarts letter never came.
Eleven progressed to twelve, twelve to thirteen,
Mistaken- I thought-they must have been,
Meanwhile I did my own reading and learnt all the curses,
And with the wand I never had I practiced all the verses.
First of September arrived again, and again, and again.
And with the years that passed, so increased the pain,
“So the age limit isn’t actually eleven!” then I optimistically thought,
“Oh! What a brutal test of patience they cleverly plot!”
Pictures in newspaper don’t move, brooms yet don’t fly,
And yes there are times that these thoughts make me cry,
“Hogwarts doesn’t exist”- Oh! These oblivious muggles continue to tell,
Deep down they are just jealous that they just can’t cast a spell,
“Well, can you?” they ask laughing and teasing,
Their voice brimming up with sarcastic appeasing…
“Not yet” I silently speak, “Just wait for days some...
My pretty little Hogwarts letter is just about to come.”
Sep 9, 2014
Sep 9, 2014 at 6:40 PM UTC
Completely befuddled
We fake it as muggles
The abuse we face alone
Buries confusion in our bones
The siren places fear in our hearts
She can be ours
If she wants the part
We can get ahead
By abusing those who would give their bread
In this we are all the same
Many silent murderers with unimportant names
Psychopaths on angry paths
Hell bent on **********
Would you let them continue to dictate the conditions?
Do you trust the statisticians?
We are the result of the easy decision
The sagging construction of constant derision
Another man's home subject to intrusion
A stance is required to end the delusion
They're not here to protect you
It's all an illusion!
Mar 30, 2012
Mar 30, 2012 at 5:44 PM UTC
Crime and other violent thoughts are at an all time low,
What exactly happen the evening of December
I was brushed upon,
I was sought after,
There were muggers and muggles,
And I saw my life flash
Déjà vu but still a feeling foreign,
Those eyes were distant
Weapons-- uncommon
I've seen those eyes before,
They are eyes I've longed for
My protector, those are eyes of my Prophet
My savior
guardian and princess of the Serengeti
Cling to uncertainty and name you Visual
Jun 16, 2016
Jun 16, 2016 at 9:32 AM UTC
Some days I wish I were an X-men
and not just an ordinary mutant.
Some days I wish I had Magician
level magic like Bink,
just enough to negate other's.
But then I look around;
The Irish and English don't have it.
The Pakistanis and Indians don't have it.
The Chinese and Taiwanese don't have it.
The Hutu and Tutsi don't have it.
The neighbors in Bab Tabbaneh and Jabal Mohsen,
don't have it.
Why should I have it?
We’re all just a bunch of Muggles.
Maybe it's a good thing I don't have superpowers.
I look around and in fits of frustration,
in bouts of rage, I might destroy all the Husnock.
I'm kinda glad now my only mutations are thoughts.
Thoughts that I put here,
viral like - infective memes - hemorrhagic e-fever.
Outbreak? Snow Crash? Virulency? Survival rate? Epicenter?
Futile epidemiology because I know
exactly what and where I am.
Jun 14, 2015
Jun 14, 2015 at 1:03 PM UTC
Love is so often misunderstood
It is a feeling that is very rare
Love takes time
Time to create trust and to build walls
Walls of protection to keep out muggles
For love is magic and it must be kept safe
If it falls into the wrong hands
Love will fade
Between you and I, surrounded by our walls
I am happily in love with you
Jun 11, 2013
Jun 11, 2013 at 2:15 PM UTC
i'm a selfish muggle
i wouldn't be any better.
because you're mine
every part of you every piece is meant to me mine.
your smile
your breath
your kiss
your hug
your laugh
your voice
your eyes that sparkle everytime you heard our song.
Aug 29, 2015
Aug 29, 2015 at 4:00 AM UTC
guggle buggle
the skirts and muggles
meager or muddle
like 2 tones
a twilight
almost sweetly
a sweating majesty(it broke trebleing uncorked femurs
briskly pattering the swilling silt
the siltish swill
)by a massive
the very sea was outward and upward and forever and ever and ever & E,V'eR;
!
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Mar 3, 2011
Mar 3, 2011 at 4:19 PM UTC
some people are oceans
some people like puddles
some people are wizards
yet others like muggles
but don't dim your colours
for those deeming them bright
there will always be someone
in love with your light
May 15, 2022
May 15, 2022 at 2:23 AM UTC
Viva la morning sun
Midnight, dark night, no light, can’t go.
So dark, so quiet, so I guess the neighbours are not home.
Waiting for sleep to arrive, but it never does on time.
Still waiting to permanently close my eyes;
But match sticks under baggy eye lids,
Will not show me the peaceful dreams I need to find.
Brain storms while outside it is silent.
Not a raindrop in the air.
Sun will rise shortly, as will the neighbours;
They all arise without a care.
I will hear their alarms and the beeping of their cars
And each and every door they all slam, God ****
Muffled music drives away and I am left with clinking milk bottles.
How I hate to hear the milk man moving in full throttle.
The bin men arrive flashing their ‘vehicle is reversing’ lights.
I close my eyes, but they peek around the curtain…sigh.
People are busy nattering and I am left sinking;
There is no calling for the postman singing.
The birds have not even got their song books out yet,
Because there is too much noise, for all their rehearsing.
Now I arise from the deep pit in which I dwell.
The zombie arisen, the power button pressed, another day of Hell.
In a state of half-dress the violins begin,
Quietly at first, but soon a full orchestra of noise;
A cup of tea is soon ready to drink.
This symphony would wake the whole neighbourhood,
If it wasn’t for all the toys and work, which mean they are already up.
The din would be said to be deafening, ironic,
If I cared to hear those muggles out there, but today is supersonic
And the strings are rising up to the top of the planet,
And I am drifting within the music’s magic.
I am taken away to a classical age,
Where maidens play while in-waiting in castles.
The beer is served in tankards,
Meat ripped with fists and soldiers prepare for battle.
This warrior mind has no strength for a Queen,
The zenith passed, the air up here is so clean
And now the end of the song approaches
And with a whimper, I remember, the line of forgotten roaches…
I raise to my height, now at full length, a citizen.
Viva la revolution! I am at one with creation.
Hello Earth and morning sun!
Let me feel your warmth…my morning divine, my elation.
(C)2018 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Sep 10, 2018
Sep 10, 2018 at 9:51 AM UTC
when the politician crooned
and made a mistake
today is today
and he goes out this way
he takes a picture with a fictional villain
and pretends he’s a saint
makeshift melodies
working their way through the mansion
of the ******* bunnies
more preoccupied than the rest of us
more
preoccupied
junkyard schoolboys
walking into desert islands
and ******* magical spells
only to come out
horrendous, ugly muggles
useful only for punching tickets
at the next show
juniper berries
crisping up a salad
and making it sweeter to swallow
lunches that are bittersweet
because of the conversation
you couldn’t swallow
evergreen trees
standing the test of time
in the middle of a long
deserted island
evergreen trees
in a deserted island
providing pin cones
for the restless settlers
trying to prepare their dinners
Jan 23, 2016
Jan 23, 2016 at 6:37 PM UTC
a good writer if you ever wish to be
you'll have to practice this deed
heed my words a reader you have to be
do yourself a favor; go and read
i read and write
i feel i'm right
i read and write
you see, i write
about maybe wizards or muggles
the happiness, sorrows and pain
about life, people's struggles
i write and read then write again
i'm taking a breather
they get on my nerves as such
shouldn't write either
people who don't read as much
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dǝodןǝ ʍɥo pou,ʇ ɹǝɐp ɐs ɯnɔɥ
sɥonןpu,ʇ ʍɹıʇǝ ǝıʇɥǝɹ
ʇɥǝʎ ƃǝʇ ou ɯʎ uǝɹʌǝs ɐs snɔɥ
ı,ɯ ʇɐʞıuƃ ɐ qɹǝɐʇɥǝɹ
ı ʍɹıʇǝ ɐup ɹǝɐp ʇɥǝu ʍɹıʇǝ ɐƃɐıu
ɐqonʇ ןıɟǝ' dǝodןǝ,s sʇɹnƃƃןǝs
ʇɥǝ ɥɐddıuǝss' soɹɹoʍs ɐup dɐıu
ɐqonʇ ɯɐʎqǝ ʍızɐɹps oɹ ɯnƃƃןǝs
ʎon sǝǝ' ı ʍɹıʇǝ
ı ɹǝɐp ɐup ʍɹıʇǝ
ı ɟǝǝן ı,ɯ ɹıƃɥʇ
ı ɹǝɐp ɐup ʍɹıʇǝ
po ʎonɹsǝןɟ ɐ ɟɐʌoɹ؛ ƃo ɐup ɹǝɐp
ɥǝǝp ɯʎ ʍoɹps ɐ ɹǝɐpǝɹ ʎon ɥɐʌǝ ʇo qǝ
ʎon,ןן ɥɐʌǝ ʇo dɹɐɔʇıɔǝ ʇɥıs pǝǝp
ɐ ƃoop ʍɹıʇǝɹ ıɟ ʎon ǝʌǝɹ ʍısɥ ʇo qǝ
Feb 17, 2017
Feb 17, 2017 at 9:06 AM UTC
Voices, broken in the boughs
sleepwalking on nulled roads
echoing in the rain, and
the swings, empty rocking in the winds:
dry withering to budding, scenes
we never saw, until now
the everyday season;
Long since time stopped and
vanished behind the screens;
Then, can I call you, 'The Day'?
Echoes in the alleyways and
the dreary skies all the same;
But I must mark The Day: now
I chore, then endlessly refocussing
juggle as broomed go we muggles;
Know who's lasered on next?
Worry not, as big realms have
no pockets but ours;
For the ledgers must roll on;
Unmarked, we may go, like this
The Day, BUT: now work galore
Nov 2, 2020
Nov 2, 2020 at 6:25 PM UTC
Step back
and place your hands on the ground
where i can see them
We end the way we begin
our lessons are set to renew themselves
to diversify we must try something new
Reuse and relearn
our outlook is our own to play with
Let's defy gravity
smile at our insanity
remedy our insoluble arguments
Dance in the cloak of darkness
superhuman struggles
like finding love
among the muggles
Apr 5, 2019
Apr 5, 2019 at 10:33 PM UTC
Dropped out of college before the Start.
I used to want to be something smart.
Didn't have the money or heart.
I only have passion for art.
Now I'm just pushing a cart.
Just want to pay rent
"Wasting my talent"
Man, stop, take a hint.
All I'm tryin' to do is vent.
This pen is my accent.
The paper my identity.
Im a new entity...
Its not we.
Its just me, don't you see?
Doing me.
These lines make me feel free.
The paint my portkey.
But its not wizardry.
Just muggles.
Struggles.
Jan 9, 2015
Jan 9, 2015 at 12:56 AM UTC
She thought she'd be a protagonist
When the agony of tragedies and hopes
Found home in her bloodstreams
Laid as a side character in a eyes of the world
Which barely had anything to do
With the scared story
A reality weaved by muggles
A refused truth
Of a fortress
Standing still and quiet
Between a vast dark forest
That no one dared to adore
Little did they know
She wasnt in the story
But a Story itself
A protagonist tht doesn't end
On the opinions of critics
A protagonist stands as protagonist
Ruling all the rage within
If anyone unsee her force
That is on the reader
May 4, 2024
May 4, 2024 at 3:02 AM UTC
Place your head on my chest,
Rest your eyes,
We don't need to see what's on the outside
I'd lay my head down on your shoulder
Light weight, that's how I feel you to I
But this boulder weighs way more on my own.
You struggle like I struggle, no magic answer
Just muggles muddling, I'm ninety-nine pieces
To a hundred piece puzzle, see?
But even if I found that piece,
I'd find a new one to not fit me.
I'm the fabric to a blanket no one could crochet,
No needles could thread these stitches
I'll always lay incomplete at the bottom of the bed.
Erasing the end of my words to remain unread
Wishing on stars that have already burned out
Hey dad, you proud?
Look how broken I turned out.
I'll always be lame that's what they said
Erasing the end of my words to remain...
Jan 20, 2020
Jan 20, 2020 at 2:39 PM UTC