(with apologies to Edgar Allan Poe)
Once upon an evening weary, as my eyes grew red and bleary,
Surfing ‘cross the net for news, an awful, tedious, dreadful chore
Suddenly there came a pinging—an alarum gently ringing
Some neglected RSS feed that I’d never checked before
So, in drowsy boredom drooping, idly I went a-snooping
Snooping for some hopeful fragment of intriguing, novel lore
Clicked the link—t’was Pottermore!
There, a gentle, smiling image
J.K. Rowling’s placid visage
Greeted me with promises of wonders I’d ne’er seen before
Interactive new adventures, hints at innovative ventures
E-books, fanfic, member forums, beta testing, focus quorums
Secrets never shared by Harry, Voldemort, or Dumbledore
Coming soon to Pottermore
In a daze, I scanned the website
Watching origami ow-ls take flight
Flying over magic tomes with letters peeling by the score
How, I pondered, can she do this?
Is she mad, or merely clueless?
Self-publishing? A peddler in some thinly-veiled online store
By the name of Pottermore?
Still, despite my frantic raving
Spittle flying, arms a-waving
Shattering the peace that reigned within my private office door
Shouting, “Is this merely madness?
Is there any hope of gladness
Bringing to self-publishing a luster it’s not known before?”
Still she murmured, “Pottermore”
No more publishers or agents
Editors or drones to rage at
Maybe she could skip the middleman and make a buck or four
So, I gazed upon the image
Mused upon the peaceful visage
Of that author who had found success so many times before
Calmly pitching Pottermore
It may be the tide is turning
Protocols are ripe for burning
Burning that will make us wonder what the future has in store
Will status quo return again?
Or literary chaos reign?
Perhaps, a brand-new paradigm that shakes us to our very core
Heralded by Pottermore