valis2 | Characterkus (HP character haikus)

Bellatrixku

If I could slither,
If I could taste the dirt with
my tongue, breathe venom,

shed my skin and rise
again, new and itching to
bleed for my love, if

I could crawl, belly
in the grass, unseen, sly, to
strike hot-toothed, foaming

poison, if I could
wind my coils around you, my
lord, squeeze until you

cried my name, gave me
your cold, harsh kiss--still I would
not be satisfied.

Severusku

I dream of red hair,
a choice, a vow, a snarl, the
edge of a sharp breath

between empty night
and the hot rush of vengeance
sought. I dream of a

garden of deadly
herbs, a cauldron of something
that tastes like freedom.

Millicentku

I do not trust words
like fair. Better the snake who
tells lies, than the friend.

Fleurku

Another language, blunt
and heavy on my tongue, red
meat on my table.

Heavy and fine, the
dress in my closet, the hem
scorched, black with mud. To

begin in the dark,
the lynx uttering its flat
and fearful message,

this is not what I
would have wished, a cake smashed and
ruined on the ground,

our date now fixed and
remembered with blood and green
fire. I know I

have left safety far
behind, a shimmering well
of soft blue water.

The dark sea remains,
green and ferocious, striking
the cliff with fury.

I dream of a day
of peace, of fresh ripe figs, clean
and sweet on my tongue.

Riddleku

I crave something far
sweeter than nectar, far more
precious than gold.

Goyleku

Fire, unnatural
and wild, his eyes fierce with joy.
Then I watched him burn.

Slughornku

I see connections,
spinning in the air, rich and
full of sweet promise.

A slice of candied
pineapple, melting on the
tongue, a word in a

well-positioned ear,
a nudge and a wink and a
sly promise uttered

between the handshake
and the parting smile, I
have the touch, I see

doors opening as
I speak. Of course I will help
you, if you help me.

Billku

I can break curses
with my bare hands. Except the
one that matters most.

Ceceliaku [Cecelia was Tom Riddle senior's girlfriend in one of the memories in HBP.]

Tom is a handsome
man, we are a good match, I
begin to plan our

wedding. Violets and
sweetpeas, chiffon, point d'esprit,
vows and a manor.

We go riding, you
and I, our path lined with the
prettiest bluebells.

Snake, snake, swinging on
the door, poor simple creature,
poor cottage, poor girl.

The talk begins in
the village. Tom is engaged.
I am not alarmed

yet. But the whispers
grow from door to door, and the
stares grow longer, and

I begin to sense
my crinoline unraveling,
my flowers wilting,

my manor fading.
And there is Tom, in the street,
he looks my way but

does not see me. And
it's her, poor girl from the poor
cottage, the foul tramp's

daughter, wild-eyed, my
Tom holding her arm, but he
is not my Tom now,

is he? My love breaks
and scatters. I smile, offer
congratulations,

but I can feel the
eyes upon me, the titters
behind palms, the jests

in the pub. In my
room I lie on my bed, think
of his glassy eyes.

Albusku

A plan within a
plan, a night with barely a
chance of dawn, the tide

rises to drown us
with foaming poison and myrrh.
The only funeral

I look forward to
is my own. I have set my
traps, placed upon the

hook the finest bait.
Nothing remains, save the harsh
fall to earth. I no

longer waste time with
hope. Tom's crude end-game is in
sight. He does not see

that love is a
far better trap than any
that he could devise.

Arthurku

This house, loud and full,
this garden, these gnomes, this clock
with wondrous hands, these

cooking pots, this broom,
these broken quills, this cauldron
caked with rust, this old

owl, this Sneakoscope,
these suspicious candies, this
single mitten, these

school robes with frayed cuffs,
these daisies behind the shed,
this chestnut tree, these

broken crayons, this
bowl of ripe berries, this blue
quilt, these baby shoes

(most likely Ginny's),
this stroppy enchanted car,
this battered kettle

still smelling of tea,
this bent fork, this bottle of
sand (from Egypt?), these

mint leaves cool on the
tongue, this jar of Floo powder,
these pale shells from the

sea, this portrait of a
relative no one knows, this
empty mug with chipped

handle, this kitchen
table, scarred and lopsided,
these fine clamoring

children, this shining
warm wife, yes, I will defend
all this, to the death.

McGonagallku

There is never the
time I need. Always there is
someone crying, a

teacup with a tail,
someone hexing, a boggart
hiding homework, a

love potion gone wrong,
someone in a Vanishing
Cabinet. It does

not end. There are nights
I spend with bawling first years
(and Ogden's finest).

There are owls from
parents, howlers from parents,
Hagrid's lesson plan,

Peeves and his smashing
attempt at an ink fountain.
I try to find a

space to breathe, a cup
of tea, a moment in front
of the fire, but the

worries always flock
around me. Each year the dark
grows stronger, and we

seem to slip, but to
swim against the tide is the
only thing I know.

Previous characterku entries here and here

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

joanwilder.livejournal.com

OH, so well done! Ever since

klynie1 stopped posting haiku, I've missed my regular dose of it. Just like her, you have 'the ~~Grim~~ gift'. :)

I like Goyle's and Fleur's, but Arthur's is my favorite. Yep, essence of why he'd defend it all to the end.

Edited Date: 2009-09-24 11:55 pm (UTC)

From:

Bornino

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