"trelawney" poems
He put a flint to the lantern once
They’d walked across the crest,
Were lost in a group of headstones that
Lay hidden from the rest,
And down in a slight depression he
Lit up a certain tomb,
Where the name of Elspeth Trelawney
Was reflected in the gloom.
Trelawney held up the lantern high
While Corby held the *****
And Gordon Bracks with an old pick-axe
Stood back, he was afraid.
‘I fear the spirits are out tonight
In this graveyard of the ******
‘Get on, and turn up the sod,’ he said,
Trelawney forced his hand.
The Squire was quiet and ashen-faced
As the two had bent their backs,
Corby tipping the earth aside
Then standing aside for Bracks,
‘The earth is solid, it’s packed right down,
We need to pick it loose,’
‘Just do whatever you have to do,
There’s little time to lose!’
The Squire had buried his Elspeth back
In eighteen twenty-four,
For seven years he had held his grief
But he couldn’t take much more,
‘I have to see her again,’ he said,
To kiss her pale, dead lips,
To stroke the hair on my darling’s head
And caress her fingertips.’
She’d taken the coach and four one day
Way out in the countryside,
The coachman, used to a horse and dray,
Had begun to speed the ride,
He whipped the horses and lost the reins
As the coach began to slide,
Tipped the coach in the watercourse
Where Elspeth drowned and died.
He hadn’t looked at his lover’s face
Before she was interred,
But tried to avoid the loss of grace
In her face that was inferred.
‘I only want to remember her
As she was in the flush of life,
Not in the throes of death,’ he’d said
When talking about his wife.
They’d rushed to hurry the burial,
On the day that she was found,
Popped her into a coffin, then,
Planted her in the ground,
Trelawney later had agonised
That he hadn’t let her lie,
‘I couldn’t bear her to be around,’
He said, with a tearful eye.
But now he wanted to see her face,
They lifted the coffin lid,
While Gordon Bracks had turned his back
To see what Trelawney did,
The horror showed on the Squire’s face
As he gazed into her eyes,
For Elspeth lay in a bleak dismay
As her fate was realized.
Her hands were raised and they looked like claws
They’d scratched at the coffin lid,
The clumps of hair she had torn right out
Was the final thing she did,
And on the lid she had scratched his name
In the torment of the ******
‘Trelawney, may you be cursed by God!’
She’d scratched, with her dying hand.
David Lewis Paget
Jan 14, 2014
Jan 14, 2014 at 7:41 PM UTC
Here he comes,
with united forces.
Trelawney did a prediction,
the boy born at end of month,
ends your action.
The dark lord wanted to be immortal,
so he killed a mortal.
Not the boy but this father.
he tried to **** the boy.
“Avada kedavra” He shouted ,
but the spell rebounded.
Dark lord was killed .
Every one was in riddle,
come back tom riddle.
Years passed,
history repeats,
forces re-unite.
Harry and friends destroying the horcruxes.
Again he shouts”Avada kedavra”.
And finally,
Gone are the horcruxes,
gone are the death eaters
and gone is the dark lord.
(Well i want to say something i don't fear his name. He's VOLDEMORT!!!!)
May 12, 2016
May 12, 2016 at 3:48 AM UTC
‘I used to work for the council here,’
Said ‘Ripper’ Jones at the bar,
Fortified with a Beam or two
And a pint of the best, Three Star,
Trelawney winked at the barman and
The barman, he winked back,
‘We’re in for another ripper yarn,’
Said the bearded Cousin Jack.
‘They always gave me the ***** jobs,
It was always just my luck,
They’d point to me, say, ‘Ripper’s free,
Break out the tipper truck!
You know, that beast with seven gears
But only three of them worked,
The brakes were non-existent, and
The Foreman, he was a ****
‘We used to call him Father Time
He was always on the prowl,
Calling time to the Smoko breaks
With an ever present scowl.’
He said, ‘Pick up that giant rock
In the Commer Tipper Truck,
The ocean’s sprung a giant leak
And we have to seal it up!’
‘It took us a crane to lift this rock
It was seven feet across,
‘This mother has to be fifteen tons,’
Said my mate, crane driver Ross.
‘What did he say you need it for?’
He yelled, in a sort of screech,
‘I have to drive it down to the shore,
There’s a great big hole in the beach!’
‘The Commer sank right down on its springs,
This rock, a hell of a load,
I had to drive it in second gear
With the tyres flat on the road,
I finally made it down to the shore
And thought, ‘I must be a mug!’
The sea was circling round the hole
Like a bath when you pull out the plug.
I had to wait for an hour or two
‘Til it emptied out the bay,
All you could see was a dry seabed
For a mile or so, each way,
Then I drove the truck right up to the hole,
Thinking to tip it in,
When a giant geyser of steam shot up,
The sea was turning to steam.’
‘You know what the brakes on that truck were like,
They hadn’t been fixed for years,
I thought I’d better get out of there
Or it all would end in tears.
But the truck rolled forward, over the hole
And began to sink right in,
While I climbed out of the window there
Determined to save my skin.’
‘The truck sank down, under the rock
And it plugged that head of steam,
You could barely see the tip of the tray
When the tide came rolling in,
And that’s the rock you go fishing off,
You can say it was down to me,
While you were throwing your schooners back
I was out there, saving the sea!’
David Lewis Paget
Oct 14, 2013
Oct 14, 2013 at 2:18 AM UTC