Trust in Their Friend (Dust in the Wind, Kerry Livgren)

I've had Dust in the Wind on the brain lately, and that's a bad song to have firmly lodged in my head, since I can't think of any other song that I find more depressing.  Yes, it's gorgeous, but if I run across it unexpectedly, it can put me in a funk for the rest of the day.  So in an effort to get it out of my system, I've used it to write a reflection from Harry's perspective following his discovery in Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban that his parents were betrayed by their close friend.  Though it doesn't tell the whole story, it's still one of the most depressing moments in the series, but at least maybe now, the next time I hear the song on the radio, I will think of J. K. Rowling instead of Nietzsche...

Trust in Their Friend

They closed their door.
Only one outside it knew where they had gone.
How could he
Break the sacred contract of fidelity?

Trust in their friend.
All they had was trust in their friend.

Dad and Mum
Never would have had to give their lives for me.
Malfoy knew,
Taunting me with whispered hints of treachery.

Trust in their friend.
All they had was trust in their friend.

Now, tell me, Ron,
Do you wonder why I want to hurt this guy?
I’m sure you’d see
If you were forced to listen to your parents die.

Trust in their friend.
All they had was trust in their friend.
(He betrayed the trust of his friends.)
Trust in their friend.
All they had was trust in their friend.
(He betrayed the trust of his friends.)
Their friend.

Imagining Walter Blythe's Piper Poem

When I read Rilla of Ingleside, the eighth installment in the Anne of Green Gables series, I found myself very curious about The Piper, a poem her son Walter writes while serving as a soldier during World War I.  L. M. Montgomery never reproduces it for us, though I see that there is an upcoming volume that includes poetry from both Anne and Walter, which makes me wonder whether she might have written the poem at some point.  A bit of investigating told me that she intended it as a tip of the hat to In Flanders Fields, one of the most famous poems to come out of World War I, so when I tried my hand at stepping into Walter's head, that was my model.

The Piper

The Piper calls with dulcet strains
That echo over hills and plains.
He beckons, through a dreamy mist,
And stalwart hearts cannot resist
The song that seeps into our veins.

Upon his path, the crimson stains
Lie undiminished by the rains
Of ages, yet we must enlist;
The Piper calls.

Our struggles are but labor pains,
The price that Providence ordains;
A new world dawns as we persist.
To those we left, whose arms we've missed,
The great and longer task remains.
The Piper calls!

An Abandoned Bird and a Friendly Cat Head South

I recently read Patrick McDonnell's South, a tender tale of a cat who helps a lost bird find its migrating flock.  The book doesn't have any words, nor does it need them.  But I couldn't resist writing a bit about it myself.  Here's a little accompanying poem I wrote.

South

As autumn dies, the last leaf falls.
Migration calls; the first bird flies.
A silent flap, a hopeful tune.
As one, they rise into the skies.

And yet below, a straggler wakes.
Of all mistakes, the lowest blow.
So far from June, a chilly trap
With miles to go 'midst leaves and snow.

A furry friend at once draws near.
This cat will cheerfully attend
To every need with gentle care
'Til journey's end lies 'round the bend.

Their kinship shelters, strengthens both.
He keeps the oath. Clear as a bell,
Song fills the air. The bird takes heed.
But first, farewell. What tales he'll tell!

Our Little Girl (My Little Town, Paul Simon)

I've been participating in an online discussion of the Harry Potter books, and recently a few of us commented on how strange this whole experience must be for Hermione's parents.  We barely see them throughout the series - and they barely see her, especially after the third book.  Here's a reflection from their perspective to the tune of Simon and Garfunkel's My Little Town.

Our Little Girl

Well, our little girl,
She always is leaving.
We scarcely see her at all.
Oh, it would mean so much to us
If she would just stay here till the fall.
Boy, she's getting tall!
Our little girl.

Since she went to that school,
Flying on broomsticks and taking Arithmancy,
Our lives are defined by
Waiting for owls on a howling breeze.

She eases our pain with her parchment,
Her escapades shining in black,
But long letters cannot compare
To that precious presence we lack.
Wish that she would come back here.
Our little girl.
Our little girl.
Our little girl.

Wish the wizards hadn't whisked away our little girl!
Wish the wizards hadn't whisked away our little girl!

Well, our little girl
Was always a loner, but she's found some faithful chums.
Maybe we're greedy,
Maybe we're needy,
Thinkin' as we linger over patients' puffy gums

That we wish the wizards hadn't whisked away our little girl.
Wish the wizards hadn't whisked away our little girl!
Wish the wizards hadn't whisked away our little girl!
Wish the wizards hadn't whisked away our little girl!
Wish the wizards hadn't whisked away our little girl!


My Little Town

Galadriel (Midnight Well, Phil Coulter)

At the request of my dad, here's a song to the tune of Phil Coulter's Midnight Well about the Fellowship's stay in Lothlorien in Lord of the Rings, and in particular Frodo's offer to give Galadriel his Ring.

Galadriel

In the golden wood of Lorien
Lived Galadriel.
She could gaze into the hearts of men,
Galadriel.
Eight travelers charged with a perilous quest
Approached her in wonder and fear.
She awarded them rest
But encountered a test
When the innocent Frodo drew near.

For he bore an object much desired
By Galadriel,
And the humble hobbit, who admired
Fair Galadriel,
Quietly made her an offer.
He stood exhausted and half-hypnotized.
With trust in his voice,
Frodo gave her the choice
To lay claim to the power she prized

When he said,

"Take the Ring, take the Ring from me,
Please lift this thing from me, Lady of goodness and light.
Take the Ring, take the Ring.
Wear it proudly and set the world right."

As he watched, a shadow crossed the face
Of Galadriel.
In her eyes was guile and not the grace
Of Galadriel.
She mused, "I could rule over all Middle-earth,
Inspiring both love and despair."
But the dark moment passed
As she bravely held fast,
And an elegy hung in the air

When she said,

"Keep the Ring, keep the Ring from me.
Temptation's sting will decline as I fade with the light.
Keep the Ring, keep the Ring.
Hold it close and continue to fight." (repeat twice) 

Midnight Well (scroll down to music player)

Feelin' Lucky (Feelin' Groovy, Paul Simon)

Here's a ditty from Ron's perspective in the chapter Felix Felicis in Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, to the tune of Simon and Garfunkel's Feelin' Groovy.

Feelin’ Lucky
So what? He spiked my juice;
The potion went to perfect use!
Just watch me block another goal.
Quidditch is fun;
I’m feelin’ lucky!
Felix Felicis leaves me
Feelin’ lucky.

Not a Chaser can defy me
And not a Quaffle will sail by me.
Fans have changed their rhyme for me.
“Hail, King Weasley!”
Feelin’ lucky!
“Weasley will not let the Quaffle in!”
Feelin’ lucky.

Well, I bet I could Beat and Chase as well as Keep.
I feel like I could play this game in my sleep.
All it took was a boost to my low self-esteem.
Thank you, Harry.
I’m so lucky!

Slytherin (Yesterday, Paul McCartney)

I just finished a re-read of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, and one of the scenes that jumped out at me was Harry's brief conversation with the Sorting Hat in Dumbledore's office.  Here's an homage to that moment to the tune of the Beatles' Yesterday.

Slytherin

Slytherin
Is the House you almost put me in.
What a big mistake that would have been!
I don’t belong in Slytherin.

Gryffindor
Is the House I’m clearly suited for.
Can’t you see the courage at my core?
Oh, I belong in Gryffindor.

I spoke to a snake.
Now they quake when I walk in,
Whispering, “Beware!
He’s the Heir of Slytherin!”

Slytherin
Left a lightning scar upon my skin.
Did it also burrow deep within?
Do I belong in Slytherin?

I spoke to a snake.
Now they quake when I walk in,
Whispering, “Beware!
He’s the Heir of Slytherin!”

Slytherin
Left a lightning scar upon my skin.
Did it also burrow deep within?
Do I belong in Slytherin?