A Sonnet for Luna Lovegood

I saw you reading something upside down

In your compartment, wand behind your ear;

Corks strung in a necklace led me to drown

Within your eyes, blond hair, a new frontier.

We saw thestrals flying unlike others

Their shrill, strange yells so like our beating hearts

Sharing memories and pains together

As ones who had their families ripped apart.

Fighting side by side in more than battle

We were friends, almost lovers in a way

But your world and soul I could not rattle

And watched as you wore yellow on your wedding day.

You were beautiful, a dirty blonde sun

Eclipsed by your new husband, what can’t be undone.

A Sonnet for Colin Creevey

I've sat on this poem for a few days now, unsure if it's ready.  It's the culmination of ideas I've had for a long time about how heroic Colin Creevey truly was throughout the Harry Potter books.  His sheer, unrelenting loyalty to Harry, just struck me; from a little boy snapping pictures, standing up for him against much older wizards, to in the end dying for him, all the while persecuted with his brother Dennis under Voldemort's regime for being Muggle-born.  Let me know what you think...


He gave it all for the man he adored,

and idolized for years in magic school.

Put down his camera, picked up the sword

to die outmatched by all but heart in duel.

Muggle-born, mudblood cast out his sixth year

coming back to fight pureblood mania

threatening his young brother, causing fear;

persistent, rampant xenophobia.

Petrified by snake but never frightened,

always standing with the good and bravest,

those thought selfless, true and most enlightened;

he proved himself an equal to the rest.

If there is a God he must know above
that Colin Creevey lived and died for love.

For Amy

A heart and mind

Too strong to deal.

All that soul.

And all that jazz.

Music was her therapy

But couldn’t save her.

Thus, it settled saving us

With subtle tones,

Heart rending words

That will live on,

Though Amy can’t.

A Sonnet for Bert Lahr

Your love for Mercedes was complex,

But you had endless courage on your side

To overcome her pain, mental affects

And seek another one to lie beside.

Her, your Mildred, grew impatient waiting,

Causing you to lose two different mates,

As she married, reduced your heart to skating

On thin ice, pounding on its ribcage gate.

But, as all great love stories will tell us

You won her back despite demanding work

And travel that you needed for success

In the dust and grime, show business murk.

Though your record doesn’t show a scion –

You were never man, you were a lion.

A Sonnet for Jack Haley

A Clanking Clattering Collection of

Caliginous Junk devoid of a heart,

That proved his self more capable of love

Than those who never suffered, ripped apart.

The vaudeville song and dance comedian

Possessing both the gruff and gentle voice

To get his way, while read to children,

As fans from generations still rejoice.

Replacing Ebson with an eye infection

He tin soldiered on, not turning back

Working past a silver, cursed complexion,

Acting ‘til the day he had a heart attack.

His testimonial is still clickin'

Within the cased heart forever tickin'

A Sonnet for Ray Bolger

Limbered vaudevillian dancing Broadway

Down its yellow bricked road to film and fame;

Stopping to get strung up, stuffed with hay,

Discovers that he always had a brain.

Pacific USO, Stage Door Canteen

Babes in Toyland, the Ray Bolger Show

Unrivaled master of the stage and screen

Has Emmy nomination, Tony’s owned.

Narrates That’s Dancing! with Judy’s daughter

Sings I’m a Pepper in a Doctor Pepper ad;

Comes down with, dies from bladder cancer,

Goes up to heaven in his straw suit clad.

Rejoins Dorothy, Tin man, friends from Oz

To abundant and prolonged applause.

A Sonnet for Judy Garland

You were gorgeous but they didn’t realize

As they made you up to be like others,

If they only had looked into your eyes

Past the girl next door and to the mother.

You, their ugly duckling, little hunchback

Became film history for them but not

Because of them; their whips could only crack,

And break the skin.  Your wounds from this would clot.

But scars of insecurity remained

The memory of caps to cover teeth,

Breasts bound up with tape, your curves contained

Denial of the woman grown beneath.

Addictions formed to bare the acting blitz

Self-overdosage of barbiturates.