My poems are horrible, but I just wanted to put up this one because it kind of amuses me, in a sick and twisted way.
I have a weird sense of humor. Don't flame me for it.
Donkey Potter
A Sybil made a prophecy,
A prophecy that said,
A dark-haired being will save us,
At his hands the Dark Lord is dead.
At last the child came,
Mother's eyes, Father's hair,
But human?
Closer to a mare.
Nee-haw, hee-haw, the child bleated all day,
When it was done Lily went to James to say,
"Our kid - he's an animal!"
"If he bleats one more time, I think I'll turn cannibal!"
The fatal night came,
With a clang and a flash,
The Dark Lord picked the lock,
Turned the Potters to ash.
Bending over the crib, he blinked evil eyes,
Eyes the Death Eaters all secretly despised.
Holding wand in the air,
Not from hate but from fright,
Mr Voldemort exclaimed,
"What a beautiful sight!"
"That kinky hair, handsomely long ears,"
"Another beautiful whinny and I think I'll be in tears."
"His loveliness! His feet!"
"I long to touch, yet I know not how."
Said Voldemort, feeling the heat,
"For I must, I must, I am destined to kill him right now."
He anguished, he wept,
He tried pills and pickle dills and toadstools that leapt.
To this fearsome experimenting Donkey Potter did not blink,
But for him Voldemort drank bleach that was meant for the sink.
At last You-Know-Who could take it no more,
So he hung himself until he was cold and sore.
And Donkey grew up to be a fine steed indeed,
Although he had an unfortunate taste
For the ever-popular weed.
NOT MEANT TO BE TAKEN SERIOUSLY.
NOT MEANT TO HAVE WONDERFUL AND MEANINGFUL RHYMES.
THIS IS FOR
SHEER. CIRCUS. VALUE.
UNDERSTAND?
Good. Now review.
-Love,
Sammi
