1. The Gryffindor

(For Wendy)

A candle's stubborn flame burns
concentrated in her eyes,
tangled sides of crooked form
blaze in its sunlight.
Bravery remains transfixed upon
the sleek in her words,
replaces the lunge, frozen of
a motive needless.
Brazen in shocks of courage
muscular in the flex of her arms;
only to suppress my derelict comparisons
that set us apart.
Stretched into pale disparity
edged in the arcs of her stare,
my form a putrid eyesore
asserted by ironic regret.
Standing by the flickering scenes
a lion shines in her hands,
calloused in shadows of empathy
and coloured in chivalry's red.
Strangled in attempts at resistance,
control me not to defy,
the candle's stubborn flame burning
concentrated there in her eyes.


(2003)

NOTES: I like Gryffindors. I wish JK Rowling would one day create an ideal Gryffindor character for me to sink all my poetry in. But until then, I guess I have to draw on the people I see in real life who fit the stereotype Rowling has elaborately placed for us. I wrote the poem after my junior college orientation, and I think it has lost a lot of meaning, because it was supposed to be for the orientation leaders of my house, who were in all sense sincerely brave, loyal and very doting on us their juniors.

The person whom this poem is written for I haven't seen in about 2 years. I wonder if she's still as hyperbolic as I portray her to be in my words.