Poetry
Poetry plays an important role for many SSHG authors. Whether it's creating original poetry for Severus and Hermione, quoting a classic poem, or being inspired by a poem to write a story, SSHG stories featuring poetry are everywhere! Enjoy the wonderful world of poetry SSHG style.
Want to give Hermione a run for her money in the know-it-all field? Simply play the quiz by commenting on this post with your answers at any time over the weekend. All comments with answers will be screened until the answer sheet is posted on Monday morning EDT. On Monday, all quizzlings with the correct answers will receive a pretty banner to prove their quiz prowess. Ready? Set? Play!
Match the quotes to the story titles without picking the red herring titles:
Hermione Granger, Closet Poet by Soul Bound
Looking for Magic in All the Right Places by savageland
The Spirit That Remembers by elise_wanderer
The Silver Doe by mundungus42
His Nighttime Obsession by Aturia
A Treatise On The Healing Properties of Murtlap by teddyradiator
The Anniversary Sonnet by reynardo
And Miles to Go Before I Sleep by Celithrathien
Strolling Through the Wood by chivalric
Denial by little_beloved
Next of Kin by apollinav
The Secret Lives of Librarians by hayseed_42
1. When the grass was closely mown,
Walking on the lawn alone,
In the turf a hole I found,
And hid a soldier underground.
Under grass alone he lies,
Looking up with leaden eyes,
Scarlet coat and pointed gun,
To the stars and to the sun.
I shall find him, never fear,
I shall find my grenadier;
But for all that's gone and come,
I shall find my soldier dumb.
2. ‘Starting this coming Tuesday evening, I’d like you to attend DADA classes as Remus’s assistant.’
Snape rose halfway out of his chair.
‘I? Lupin’s assistant?’
Dumbledore held up his hand and gently motioned for Snape to sit back down.
‘Perhaps liaison would be a more appropriate description. Remus’s background in literature is-erm-somewhat sparse. Your knowledge of poetry will help provide much-needed context. You’ll be able to mediate between the now-fading world of magic and a world in which another kind of magic can hold sway-for those who know how to use it.’
‘Are you suggesting,’ said Snape very carefully, ‘that poetry and stories might somehow harness power?’
‘If you’re willing to cooperate with Remus and his two lecturers, perhaps we will be able to test that theory.’
Snape sighed, adopting his best put-upon look. ‘Very well, if you insist.’
He would have climbed that damned spiral staircase a dozen times over before revealing to Dumbledore how piqued--how excited--he was by the chance to wield true power again. However slim that chance might be.
3. An Ode To Reality
Intrigued against his better judgment, Severus read on.
Life is unfair, relentless and cruel
I can’t be naïve; I can’t be a fool
My life is crowded and all too real
I’m weary, and tired of having to feel
But there’s no way out
No way to let go
No way to forget the things I know
The feelings I feel are strong and deep
My joy and my pain keep me from sleep
You heighten my senses
You break through my fences
You leave me defenseless…
4. Now as at all times I can see in the mind's eye,
In their stiff, painted clothes the pale unsatisfied ones
Appear and disappear in the blue depth of the sky
With all their ancient faces like rain-beaten stones,
And all their helms of silver hovering side by side,
And all their eyes still fixed, hoping to find once more,
Being by Cavalry's turbulence unsatisfied,
The uncontrollable mystery on the bestial floor.
All of my love,
Tobias"
5. That is no country for old men. The young
In one another’s arms, birds in the trees,
- Those dying generations - at their song,
The salmon-falls, the mackerel-crowded seas,
Fish, flesh, or fowl, commend all summer long
Whatever is begotten, born and dies.
Caught in that sensual music all neglect
Monuments of unageing intellect.
6. He pressed his wand against her throat, and she fell to her knees,
Her hands upturned before her and her mind relaxed and free.
His wordless spell revealed the suppositions she had guessed,
And his gasp shattered the silence,
A rasping hiss in the silence,
From the moment he broke his silence, she knew she had passed his test.
An uproar came from the pond where her best friend had gone to search,
She turned, alarmed, prepared to help, despite her stomach's lurch.
But he wrapped his arms around her, and pulled her body near.
Abruptly they were turning-
The world around her blurring-
Determinedly turning-with a bang they disappeared.
7. Never has his grim Fate
Smiled since he was born -
Frowning on the infant,
Shadowing childhood’s joy;
Guardian angel knows not
That melancholy boy.
8. "Where are you going to, my dear friend so smart?
Come and have tea with me, please let's not part."
"It's frightfully nice of you, Harry, but no -
I'm having tea with my master; please let me go."
"Your master? Who's your master?"
"My beloved master? Why, didn't you know?
Come over here, and I will tell you so:
He has bony knees, but he moves full of grace,
And his long nose sits completely crooked in his face."
"Well - where are you meeting him?"
"A bit further on, by the deep, roaring stream,
And his favourite play is to make students scream."
"Make students scream? I'm off," Harry muffled.
"Goodbye, little witch," and away he shuffled.
"Silly old Harry, doesn't he know?
There is no master who loves me so!"
9. Lurking in darkness with no sound,
Skulking in corridors the castle round,
A man enshrouded in the night,
With only shadows to question his plight.
This human specter drifted through the dark gloom,
Climbing up stairs and inspecting room after room,
Looking for what the school ghosts didn’t know;
His search; thorough, meticulous and slow.
10. Now was not the time to be frightened by absolutely nothing.
She looked at the candle that sat beside her on the Potions Master’s desk, and fretted that it wouldn’t last for much longer. When she had stumbled out of the Gryffindor Portrait Hole (receiving the unwanted admonishments of the Fat Lady), her candle had been relatively new, still about a foot tall, and burned bright.
Now, it was small, nearly a stub, and it sputtered.
A sudden sound-footsteps, she realised-reached her ears, and her initial fear was replaced with gratitude, and a relief that she could not at the moment examine. The footsteps were heading towards the classroom, and it was not the slow, heavy gait of Argus Filch. She would recognise these footsteps anywhere.
She bent sideways to blow the candle out, distracted not at all by the spatter of wax that her fierce breath sent flying to her skirt and now not in the least scared by the darkness that enveloped her. Hermione braced herself, feeling her breath run faster in both anticipation and dread, as the person she had been waiting for came closer and closer to the Potions classroom.
The footsteps stopped. A whispered Alohomora later, the door swung open, and the hallway light spilled into the dark room.
Her heart swelled; her Potions master stood there, tired and leaning his weight against the doorframe, but still quite alive, as his heavy breathing told her. Her euphoria went a notch down, however, when he did not notice her presence, even as many moments had passed. It was a mark of his tiredness that he would let his guard down like that.
Want to give Hermione a run for her money in the know-it-all field? Simply play the quiz by commenting on this post with your answers at any time over the weekend. All comments with answers will be screened until the answer sheet is posted on Monday morning EDT. On Monday, all quizzlings with the correct answers will receive a pretty banner to prove their quiz prowess. Ready? Set? Play!
Match the quotes to the story titles without picking the red herring titles:
Hermione Granger, Closet Poet by Soul Bound
Looking for Magic in All the Right Places by savageland
The Spirit That Remembers by elise_wanderer
The Silver Doe by mundungus42
His Nighttime Obsession by Aturia
A Treatise On The Healing Properties of Murtlap by teddyradiator
The Anniversary Sonnet by reynardo
And Miles to Go Before I Sleep by Celithrathien
Strolling Through the Wood by chivalric
Denial by little_beloved
Next of Kin by apollinav
The Secret Lives of Librarians by hayseed_42
1. When the grass was closely mown,
Walking on the lawn alone,
In the turf a hole I found,
And hid a soldier underground.
Under grass alone he lies,
Looking up with leaden eyes,
Scarlet coat and pointed gun,
To the stars and to the sun.
I shall find him, never fear,
I shall find my grenadier;
But for all that's gone and come,
I shall find my soldier dumb.
2. ‘Starting this coming Tuesday evening, I’d like you to attend DADA classes as Remus’s assistant.’
Snape rose halfway out of his chair.
‘I? Lupin’s assistant?’
Dumbledore held up his hand and gently motioned for Snape to sit back down.
‘Perhaps liaison would be a more appropriate description. Remus’s background in literature is-erm-somewhat sparse. Your knowledge of poetry will help provide much-needed context. You’ll be able to mediate between the now-fading world of magic and a world in which another kind of magic can hold sway-for those who know how to use it.’
‘Are you suggesting,’ said Snape very carefully, ‘that poetry and stories might somehow harness power?’
‘If you’re willing to cooperate with Remus and his two lecturers, perhaps we will be able to test that theory.’
Snape sighed, adopting his best put-upon look. ‘Very well, if you insist.’
He would have climbed that damned spiral staircase a dozen times over before revealing to Dumbledore how piqued--how excited--he was by the chance to wield true power again. However slim that chance might be.
3. An Ode To Reality
Intrigued against his better judgment, Severus read on.
Life is unfair, relentless and cruel
I can’t be naïve; I can’t be a fool
My life is crowded and all too real
I’m weary, and tired of having to feel
But there’s no way out
No way to let go
No way to forget the things I know
The feelings I feel are strong and deep
My joy and my pain keep me from sleep
You heighten my senses
You break through my fences
You leave me defenseless…
4. Now as at all times I can see in the mind's eye,
In their stiff, painted clothes the pale unsatisfied ones
Appear and disappear in the blue depth of the sky
With all their ancient faces like rain-beaten stones,
And all their helms of silver hovering side by side,
And all their eyes still fixed, hoping to find once more,
Being by Cavalry's turbulence unsatisfied,
The uncontrollable mystery on the bestial floor.
All of my love,
Tobias"
5. That is no country for old men. The young
In one another’s arms, birds in the trees,
- Those dying generations - at their song,
The salmon-falls, the mackerel-crowded seas,
Fish, flesh, or fowl, commend all summer long
Whatever is begotten, born and dies.
Caught in that sensual music all neglect
Monuments of unageing intellect.
6. He pressed his wand against her throat, and she fell to her knees,
Her hands upturned before her and her mind relaxed and free.
His wordless spell revealed the suppositions she had guessed,
And his gasp shattered the silence,
A rasping hiss in the silence,
From the moment he broke his silence, she knew she had passed his test.
An uproar came from the pond where her best friend had gone to search,
She turned, alarmed, prepared to help, despite her stomach's lurch.
But he wrapped his arms around her, and pulled her body near.
Abruptly they were turning-
The world around her blurring-
Determinedly turning-with a bang they disappeared.
7. Never has his grim Fate
Smiled since he was born -
Frowning on the infant,
Shadowing childhood’s joy;
Guardian angel knows not
That melancholy boy.
8. "Where are you going to, my dear friend so smart?
Come and have tea with me, please let's not part."
"It's frightfully nice of you, Harry, but no -
I'm having tea with my master; please let me go."
"Your master? Who's your master?"
"My beloved master? Why, didn't you know?
Come over here, and I will tell you so:
He has bony knees, but he moves full of grace,
And his long nose sits completely crooked in his face."
"Well - where are you meeting him?"
"A bit further on, by the deep, roaring stream,
And his favourite play is to make students scream."
"Make students scream? I'm off," Harry muffled.
"Goodbye, little witch," and away he shuffled.
"Silly old Harry, doesn't he know?
There is no master who loves me so!"
9. Lurking in darkness with no sound,
Skulking in corridors the castle round,
A man enshrouded in the night,
With only shadows to question his plight.
This human specter drifted through the dark gloom,
Climbing up stairs and inspecting room after room,
Looking for what the school ghosts didn’t know;
His search; thorough, meticulous and slow.
10. Now was not the time to be frightened by absolutely nothing.
She looked at the candle that sat beside her on the Potions Master’s desk, and fretted that it wouldn’t last for much longer. When she had stumbled out of the Gryffindor Portrait Hole (receiving the unwanted admonishments of the Fat Lady), her candle had been relatively new, still about a foot tall, and burned bright.
Now, it was small, nearly a stub, and it sputtered.
A sudden sound-footsteps, she realised-reached her ears, and her initial fear was replaced with gratitude, and a relief that she could not at the moment examine. The footsteps were heading towards the classroom, and it was not the slow, heavy gait of Argus Filch. She would recognise these footsteps anywhere.
She bent sideways to blow the candle out, distracted not at all by the spatter of wax that her fierce breath sent flying to her skirt and now not in the least scared by the darkness that enveloped her. Hermione braced herself, feeling her breath run faster in both anticipation and dread, as the person she had been waiting for came closer and closer to the Potions classroom.
The footsteps stopped. A whispered Alohomora later, the door swung open, and the hallway light spilled into the dark room.
Her heart swelled; her Potions master stood there, tired and leaning his weight against the doorframe, but still quite alive, as his heavy breathing told her. Her euphoria went a notch down, however, when he did not notice her presence, even as many moments had passed. It was a mark of his tiredness that he would let his guard down like that.