These are poems we wrote. Neither me nor my friend owns the Harry potter characters but we do own the poems.
Minerva
Those green eyes find mine
The ever-spectacled
Ever loving, ever teaching
Green eyes shimmer with
an unknown emotion.
My question lingers
in the air.
I wait,
anticipation
thick
like oil.
She takes off her square glasses
and looks at me
With cat-like pupils
But I am her pupil,
And this cannot be.
She gets up from
her throne
in the Headmistress's Office
And swears to me
In front of all
her predecessors
That
She'll be mine
if I'll be
hers'.
It's too late now
The war is over
and many deaths
have accompanied it,
Including hers'.
And soon to be
Mine.
An old friend visited me
Today
She wants to die
She hates
our old friend
with raven hair
and green eyes
like her
and his mother.
We made a plan
involving Death
and reunion
with our pasts'.
We flick our wands
Avada Kedavera
green
Death.
She's there
my old love
And she's waited
for me
to come to her
and here we are
Together
at last
Forever.
My poem:
Snape's Last Moments
Silver thought and red liquid twirl,
Warm blood pool on the cool stones,
Snaking around my body,
Like irony of Nagini.
I'm dying without a fight,
Like I would always imagine,
Slytherins' deserving fate,
Complete with a spectator.
Desperately I try and stay,
Watching as Potter grabs my,
Life and memories of Lily,
The happiness in my life.
Blackness of the night,
Terror of the day bombard me,
And my battered spirit is sent,
Towards the glistening white light.
It's a park that I arrive at,
Complete with swing and bushes,
I feel content for the first time,
And see a woman sitting down.
Red hair and green eyes glow,
And Lily runs up to me,
Tears running down her face,
The hug is how I remember.
We hold hands and walk towards,
The brightly coloured swings,
Both me and her talk of things,
And I forget of the mourning.
I feel my legs shortening,
Becoming a kid I never was,
And I kick my legs out,
Swing and forgetting,
that I died.