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Raise Your Butterbeers (Harry Potter Freaks Like Me)
| Open Poetry #46 |
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Raise Your Butterbeers (Harry Potter Freaks Like Me) |
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Mistletoe Angel 
since 2000-12-17
Posts 32816Portland, Oregon |
(In the spirit of the wide theatrical release of the first of two parts of "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows", I bring back to you this laudatory anthem, which at the time I finished writing this, thought it to be the second stupidest poem I ever wrote, but has since grown into a favorite of mine just because of its infectious jubilance and, in recognizing how life feels so much more fulfilling when you don't take yourself so seriously, which I used to be much more closed-up and pensive in spite of my share of festive writes..............I proudly declare myself to be with heart-conscious artistic stupidity, woooooooooo! **warm yet twisted smile**) *  Raise Your Butterbeers By: Noah Eaton 7/20/07 Holy Avada Kedavra, the moment has arrived, to find out once and for all if Harry Potter survived, so let’s all hit the bookstores like a bunch of Dementors, and have a release party with games and magic galore. Our cheeks will be brighter than Hogsmeade at Christmastime, wearing purple cloaks, black pointed hats with yew wands held high, joking around with nose-biting teacups, Nosebleed Nougat, and all the other Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes magic tricks. We’ll swill gallons of pumpkin juice and munch on Chocolate Frogs, and obtain all the dark arts secrets from Flourish and Blotts, we’ll play exploding snaps, gobstones, even some wizards chess, and listen to each smash hit by Celestina Warbeck. After midnight, in the ice skating rink we’ll play Quidditch, I’ve got wicked Seeker skills, bound to snatch the Golden Snitch, then I’ll show off to all my friends my Cleansweep Seventeen, and gossip on and on over Tom Riddle’s diary.  Then we’ll hit the dance floor, drop it like a Swedish Short-Snout, and learn how to harvest puffapods with Professor Sprout, but be careful, or else, you know where you’ll wind up being! (At St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies!) We’ll chat about the current events in “The Quibbler”, party hard ’til we’re as numb as Boris the Bewildered, Tom Clancy fans probably think I’m H.R Hufflepuff, but tonight I feel like I have won the Triwizard Cup. Then we’ll drink unicorn blood, fresh from the witch’s cauldron, like Volde…I mean, He Whose Name Must Never Be Spoken, then we’ll grow beards as long and white as Albus Dumbledore, and visit Hagrid’s petting zoo and pet a manticore. There’s fans pouring in all around, drawing the reporters, some probably came in from Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, holy gulping gargoyles, this gathering’s got some zing, it ain’t over ‘til the painting of the fat lady sings!  Holy Avada Kedavra, the moment has arrived, to find out once and for all if Harry Potter survived, so let’s all hit the bookstores like a bunch of Dementors, and have a release party with games and magic galore. (Raise your Butterbeers!) Shake your Ukranian Ironbelly! (Raise your Butterbeers!) Hold your Hippogriffs, this Grand Hallow’s Ball’s just beginning!) (Raise your Butterbeers!) Shake your Hungarian Horntail! (Raise your Butterbeers!) Let those magic wands flail! (Raise your Butterbeers!) Shake your Romanian Longhorn! (Raise your Butterbeers!) All across the magic dance floor! (Raise your Butterbeers!) Pump it like a Pygmy Puff! (Raise your Butterbeers!) All you Harry Potter buffs!  . . . (Hey, it ain’t over, ‘til the painting of the fat lady sings!) . . . (Raise your Butterbeers!) Shake your Ukranian Ironbelly! (Raise your Butterbeers!) Hold your Hippogriffs, this Grand Hallow’s Ball’s just beginning!) (Raise your Butterbeers!) Shake your Hungarian Horntail! (Raise your Butterbeers!) Let those magic wands flail! (Raise your Butterbeers!) Shake your Romanian Longhorn! (Raise your Butterbeers!) All across the magic dance floor! (Raise your Butterbeers!) Pump it like a Pygmy Puff! (Raise your Butterbeers!) All you Harry Potter buffs! . . . (Alright, the painting of the fat lady's singin' now! Well, go on now, bloody hurry-scurry off! Don't make me call Dolores Umbridge!) (gulp) Yessum!!! Wooooooooooooooooo! My head feels like it's been bopped, by a bazillion Bludgers! I might just Quaffle up all that gillywater... ...but first I need, my fix of strange blancmange shake, at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor, too-da-lou, hee hee hee! *  "If we have no peace, it is because we have forgotten that we belong to each other" Mother Teresa |
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