National Poetry Month, expanded edition, pt 3

Luna Lovegood, poet

Hello, Poetry Friend

Luna Lovegood is the character I most identify with from the Harry Potter series. Vanessa Zoltan of the Harry Potter and the Sacred Text podcast once called her “a poem walking.” So today I want to look at the world through her poem-eyes.

One of my favorite Luna scenes is in Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, chapter 19, when she does commentary for a quidditch match. She’s no play-by-play girl. She’s not even a traditional color commentor. Instead Luna makes everyone look and notice what’s really going on.

~

Poets are good at making connections no one else sees. Only a poet would notice that it’s possible to be an aggressive competitor while also being “very nice.”

“And that’s Smith of Hufflepuff with the Quaffle,” said a dreamy voice, echoing over the grounds. “He did the commentary last time, of course, and Ginny Weasley flew into him. I think probably on purpose, it looked like it. Smith was being quite rude about Gryffindor, I expect he regrets that now he’s playing them — oh, look, he’s lost the Quaffle, Ginny took it from him, I do like her, she’s very nice…”

~

In this quote, Luna mixes up two names that have nothing to do with the player’s actual name. How can she confuse Bibble and Buggins with Cadwallader? Because poems are always surprising you.

“…but now that big Hufflepuff player’s got the Quaffle from her, I can’t remember his name, its something like Bibble—no, Buggins—“

“It’s Cadwallader!” said Profesor McGonagall loudly from beside Luna.

~

Notice in the quote below how Luna remains poem-serene while everyone else makes noise. Not one of them in the entire stadium thinks Harry’s argument is a clever ruse, but Luna trusts Harry and suspects it might be part of his plan. (Dearest Luna, Harry never plans. But your faith in him is sublime. )

“And Harry Potter’s now having an argument with his Keeper,” said Luna serenely, while both Hufflepuffs and Slytherins below in the crowd cheered and jeered. “I don’t think that’s helping him find the Snitch, but maybe it’s a clever ruse…”

~

For all you non-Harry Potter folks, trust me, there is no such thing as Loser’s Lurgy, as described below. But don’t you wish there were? Then we’d have a poetic explanation whenever our team fails to keep possession of our favorite sportsball.

Then Cadwallader scored again, making things level, but Luna did not seem to have noticed; she appeared uninterested in such mundane things as the score, and kept attempting to draw the crowd’s attention to such things as interestingly shaped clouds and the possibility that Zacharias Smith, who had so far failed to maintain possession of the Quaffle for longer than a minute, was suffering from something called “Loser’s Lurgy.”

Luna, I love you for breaking away from such prosaic things as the score to point out clouds taking poetic form. That’s one of my favorite things to do at a football game — to watch the sky. Sometimes the watching becomes a poem.

~

“Seventy-forty to Hufflepuff!” barked Professor McGonagall into Luna’s megaphone. “Is it already?” said Luna vaguely.

“Vaguely” is a word used to describe Luna throughout the series, along with “dreamy.” She’s perennially looking for her lost shoes, which inspired Harry Potter and the Sacred Text to name her Patron Saint of Lost Shoes.

I need a saint who cares about lost things. Who knows how to protect her friends, and, even more admirable, how to stand up to those same friends. Who is dreamy and vague and spot-on, just like a poem.

Dancing Alone, with Friends
	a blessing for Luna Lovegood

Do you mind that everyone sniggers while you dance like no one’s watching? 
     (Because everyone is watching.)
Are these radishes the right size for earrings?
Teach me to ride a thestral side-saddle.
What color should I dye my eyebrows for the party?
How do I picture something happy during a battle?
Help me write bold enough to be banned.
Never stop believing in the Crumple-Horned Snorkack.
	(Even if your father did make it up.)
Do not worry about your lost shoes. They will find you.

–Megan Willome

Happy poeming!

Megan