I’d hazard a guess there aren’t many folk who don’t know the tales of Harry, Hermione and Ron
and how with a cast of a multitude of friends they defeated Voldemort with aplomb,
rightly these heroic adventures are held in the highest regard,
and will be told forever by musicians, singers and bards,
these stories will be remembered, people will talk of those courageous and brave
and how they turned the evil tide of The Dark Lord with everything they gave,
how they dispelled the magic of horror with the strength of the Gryffindor lion,
but less well known than this wonder is the fable of Tayrn and her Ryan.
R and T arrived to Hogwarts  10  years after He Who Can Not Be Named was vanquished in the great struggle,
Tayrn was pure wizard born whereas Ryan was pure muggle,
both took to wizarding school easily and did well in all their classes,
of course Tayrn was a hit with the lads and Ryan a swoon with the lasses,
but it didn’t matter they gave all folk in their year at Hogwarts an involuntary love shudder
because ace Tayrn and Ryan only had eyes for each other!
Their wonderful sweet love was easy and went without a hitch,
spent Saturdays gazing at each other when they should have been watching Quidditch,
hand in hand they skipped around The Forbidden Forest, their romance knowing no rift,
saying hello to a friendly centur or a flying hippogriff,
they galloped around Diagon Alley, their souls full of cheer,
or sat relaxed and tranquil in The Leaky Cauldron sipping butter beer.
T and R were ace at spells, Tayrn’s best was with a wand swish creating healing
and Ryan’s wonderful arty prowess was painting The Sistine Chapel on any ceiling;
yes they were each other’s equal in the way they weaved the magic from above
and this is one of the reasons they were very much in love.
One night T and R were going on one of their romantic walks
and decided to have a jaunt to a wonderful clearing just near Hogwarts,
they sauntered through the darkening evening with a song on their lips,
swaggered along the green with the music of love on their hips,
as they got to the secluded clearing they were anticipating with glee each other’s hold
but then all of a sudden they started feeling very cold.
They both noticed that the summer grass was covered in a blanket of frost,
the trees were looking pale, freezing, withdrawn and lost,
the air was filled with frigidity and held the hints of scare,
the flowers were wilting with chilled terror, bloom given way to despair,
as Tayrn and Ryan wondered what was the cause of such floral bad health
just a few yards away  the answer revealed itself;
over a hill came a hooded figure that immediately brought fright to the fore
as Tayrn and Ryan paid attention in Defence Against The Dark Arts they instantly recognised it as a dementor,
but they noticed something different about this one, it was nearly trebled in size,
and had a deeper blackness where should have been it’s eyes.
Being skilled at magic they knew what they had to do to avoid any harm
so both quickly fired off their best Patronus Charm,
but these spells had no effect, the huge dementor merely shrugged them off
and they could have sworn beneath it’s hood it let out a derisive scoff.
The enormous dementor hovered over Tayrn and Ryan and from its mouth emerged a hiss,
as it prepared to give the two lovers their final goodbye kiss,
but as it stooped over them with it’s awful deathly hue
T and R looked into each other’s eyes and figured out what they were going to do;
they remembered in one class learning about the bravest man Hogwarts had ever knew
and how he was able to hoodwink The Dark Lord with a love strong, solid and true,
how Snape drew on his love of Lilly to ride through any storm,
even on his darkest night it was what kept him warm,
so Tayrn and Ryan pushed their wands together and thought of beautiful Severus
and how they both too shared the romantic love buzz,
and channelling the wonder of that special feeling thus
they both pointed their wands in unison and screamed Expelliarmus!
Emitted from the tip of each wand was the half of a love heart projected from each soul
that both came together to create the fantastic whole,
in the shine of such love the vast dementor instantly recoiled,
knowing that it’s draining wish was in no doubt foiled,
it writhed around and in the glare of joy did it’s nefarious purpose erode,
every bleak and blank about it started to corrode,
the dementor slowly ebbed away until all of it did go
and in it’s place was left a striking brown young doe,
it bowed it’s head to Tayrn and Ryan and then it flew into the trees,
gliding with majesty on the sweet night breeze.
Awed by what had happened Ryan and Tayrn turned and started to walk back to the dorm,
aware of what occurred was special and not the norm,
but then they stopped in their tracks and at the same time both did say,
“oh my beautiful love, I know  I’m going to marry you someday!”

A baby born after tomato seeds
Were sown in the earth
I’ve known from early on
That loss occurs
As I lost a pet, a friend,
My family’s unity.

I’ll return home from Value Village—
Not where I need to shop, but where I choose—
With bags,
And bags,
And bags
Of my own personal flair.

The feeling of glee have I felt.
When dancing in the rain
Giggling,
Singing,
Carefree,
Side by side with my sister.
My friend.

I’ve been labeled as serious—which I am—
Though more important to me
Is my full enjoyment of time.

My nerves have humbled me,
And brought me back to Earth.
(Contrary to my ego’s belief,
My voice is no angel’s.)

Sincerely I can tell you
That I am not perfect.
I think too much.
My unruly emotions tend to dictate my life.

I once spent all of Thanksgiving break staring at the television.
Once I flung cake at my father.
And once I traveled to The Wizarding World of Harry Potter, to live in my imagination.
If only for a day or two.

Twice I have had hot cocoa explode in the microwave.
Twice I have stumbled and sprawled up the stairs.
Twice discovered bobby pins tangled in my hair.
You see, I’ve got a ring representing my heritage
On a chain
Around my neck
And learning how to adapt is like second nature
To me.
I have plenty of experience in severing ties. But please
Please do not make me repeat.

If ever you tried to number
The tea mugs I have sipped,
I would wish you good luck,
For they are many.

I long to see bustling cities,
Rolling hills,
Diversity and
Unique people;
To experience
The WORLD.

The guitarist of The Script once
Winked
At ME
I call him Baldie.

I remember that sort of excited yet unsure tension I felt
When I stood hand in hand with the person I loved.
It’s tucked away; I’ll lose myself in it sometimes,
Even now.

Things do scare me though.
I am scared of loss.
I’m scared of being



Forgotten
       Of not mattering
              Of my emotions getting
             The
Best
      Of
       Me.
And I put milk in my tea this morning.
The morning before,
Too.

I am what you call ordinary,
But only at times,
Because lightning once struck the grass
Twenty feet away.

Here’s a secret:
I cry over politics.
The possibility of not having the future
That could be
Terrifies me.

You know, even now
I can smell
The rain crisply cutting through
Summer’s grime.


Weak baby bunnies I have held in my hand.
Only a
Week
Old.
Felt their nibble,
Their trembling whiskers;
Light
As the wind behind faerie wings.

I’ve spent a birthday in Ireland.
Witnessed the foggy haze.
Had the chill nip my nose in the bracing wind.
And I’ve spent drizzly days at the library.
Breathing the scent of musty bindings,
Ancient ink,
And smelling the stories
That waft through the air.

Sitting in front of my wood fireplace
I’ve poured over pages with rain beating on the roof.
I can still smell it now.
The fire.
The rain.
It smells like sweaters and of sleep
Of warmth and of welcoming
Like Home.

This poem will celebrate Ronald Bilius Weasley
Harry Potter's best friend and fiercest ally
Smart, funny and mischievous
Not to mention, highly courageous
Sacrificed himself in a wizarding chess game
At the age of merely eleven
Have you seen that happen often?
Of course, haters may not give a dime
But he also faced an army of murderous giant spiders
Merely a year later
Not for nothing, was he placed in Gryffindor!

In his third year, Ron stood on a broken leg
And defended his best mate
Against a convicted mass murderer
Yet, he receives a ton of hate
For his supposed jealousy a year after
Which, in reality, was more of a misunderstanding
How does that make him a negative character?
Don't best friends have occasional misunderstandings
That too in their teens?
Even I, at the age of thirty four, am no stranger to misunderstandings
For a fourteen year old Ron, can you imagine how it must have been?

In his fifth year, Ron showed his nerve and daring yet again
Fighting a horde of Death Eaters at the Ministry of Magic
A year later, it was time for some Quidditch magic
As he proved the doubting Thomases wrong in style
Saving goal after goal
And now do we come to the most important part
The second wizarding war played its part
In shaping Ron's journey from teenage to adulthood
Yes, abandoning his friends was certainly not good
But he was carrying a piece of Voldemort's soul
Which increased his insecurities and anxieties to the highest possible level
And once he left the tent
The chances of returning soon became one in a million
Thanks to a run-in with a few of Voldemort's hired minions
As well as the protective charms placed around the tent
However, when Ron ultimately returned
He saved Harry's life
And destroyed the aforementioned piece of soul
Which had reduced his confidence levels to almost nil
In the process, Ron faced his worst fears
Managed to overcome them without even shedding tears
And transitioned from boy to man
As if to show us, "Yes you can!!"

Later, bravely did Ron fight in the Battle of Hogwarts
Even after losing his dear brother so tragically
And stand up to Voldemort himself
Thus showing immense strength of character
Yes, he may have his fair share of haters
However, for me that does not matter
Because Ronald Bilius Weasley will always be my favourite Harry Potter character
Truly, like him can there be no other!!

In the beautiful words of John Marcus:
“Sometimes words are a little too hard to catch. They flit and flutter all over the place almost impossible to catch, taunting and teasing me with the worlds I could create.”
And the last part caught my attention, upon reading it. “…taunting and teasing me with the worlds I could create.” Cause I've written a novel, and currently I'm writing its sequel, and I essentially created a whole world. A whole global history, a whole global culture, a whole everything on a global scale. George Lucas, that literal genius, created a whole galaxy, far, far away, along with Martin Goodman creating a whole universe, Gene Roddenberry created a whole world on the USS Enterprise, JK Rowling created the Wizarding World, Angie Sage created one of my favorite worlds, the world of a seventh son of a seventh son with a name with seven in it.
Writers, in their own genius creativity, write worlds into existence, cover to cover, create them and steer them in a beautiful direction: forward.
And then I remembered. God created man and women in his image, and God literally spoke creation into existence, and the Bible recorded the event into literary immortality. So if God spoke (literally) everything into existence, and we fall short of His Glory eternally, then couldn’t we create worlds? Not, like, literal, physical worlds, but maybe a literary world, like authors do?
A world you could get just as lost in?
And words, words, the beautiful creation of the written form, constantly taunt and tease me, they challenge me, they call out to me to keep creating and writing worlds into existence. But we don’t need to write worlds into existence to make our words amazing: even I myself have written small phrases, not just worlds, but sometimes even the smallest things have the biggest impacts. (IE, my toddlers.)
(John Marcus has a beautiful mind, seriously, it repeatedly blows mine away. Keep doin your thing, dude.)
:;,

Sudden air full of winged seeds
Blowing froth on the dawn.
Season of simple joy
Wizarding light from the east.
Yellowing grass yawning
In the last of days of dry,
Zippy insect life slowing
To a tumble buzz, heavy
As sleep, just before sepia dreams
Begin to comfort the earth,
Fruit pungency replacing heady miasmas.
It’s like leaving a bright clearing for a forest
Sanctuary, light dimmed by cool shadows,
The gentle change of one life-state
For another.


,

Moon writer
Moon rider
Window; windows
26 windows
26 widows
Blind
Bold
Boiled
Wandering in wonder
Wondering in wander
West
East
26 days
Wiser
Wizarding whistles
Melting hums
Sweltering breaths
Blustering bustling
Bridging
Hand in hand
Hand over hand
The 25th letter is 'Y'

You can't pull out a rabbit
if you don't start with a hat,
Merlin told me that.

The 'giant in the beanie hat'
told me that as well.

There's a lack of hats these days
there's a lack of magic too
there's a lack of wizards wizarding
those things that wizards do.