(no subject)

[mooging]

I promised the poem, so here we go!

Spoilers for Half Blood Prince follow...

I wrote this poem last night, and it's shite, but there you go. It's what Dumbledore's final seconds might have been like as he fell from that tower. I tried to do it so that the first part is how Dumbledore the legend, the person that everyone sees as Dumbledore, might be feeling and then he hears the scream that Harry tries to make but can't and he realises he's just an old man dying.

Aren't I cheerful?!

Anyway, on with the poem.

Final Seconds

They were few, scant, yet welcomed
They were not feared but were somehow unfulfilling
They were slow, laboured, but effortless
They were expected, necessary, and yet surprising

They caused a scream, not his and not uttered

They were terrifying, horrific, difficult, hated
They were not wanted, though they were
They were wrong, though they had always been right
They were final seconds

They were over

So was he.

 

What did you think??!

Comments

[http://users.livejournal.com/_fakeperfection/]

Shaggy haired British gay people! Dlirty! Let's go to Paris! That was the most wonderfully weird conversation I've had lately...

Anyway, I lurve the poem! And thank God someone besides me has repetition issues. ;-) But what a joyous poem this is... note the sarcasm!

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