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The Great Hall of Poets

March 20, 2016 at 11:20 pm by Kelvarhin  - 

BilboReadingWelcome to The Great Hall of Poets, our regular monthly feature showcasing the talent of Middle-earth fans. Each month we will feature a small selection of the poems submitted, but we hope you will read all of the poems that we have received here in our Great Hall of Poets.

So come and join us by the hearth and enjoy!

If you have a Tolkien/Middle-earth inspired poem you’d like to share, then send it to  One poem per person may be submitted each month. Please make sure to proofread your work before sending it in. is not responsible for poems posting with spelling or grammatical errors.

Aragorn the Dúnedain

by Lydwina Marie

Upon the pinnacle of stone
he stood on high; he was alone
save for the whisp’ring wind above,
flying to the far sea he loved.

His raven hair was blown aloft
before the coming foe was crossed
with evil cries, and cunning leers,
against the steadfast Elven spears.

Far in the North a strong wind blew,
the Elf-host came; on wings they flew
to Gondor’s aid, though doubtful they
were of victory that dark day.

His fie’ry keen eyes pierced the clouds
that over moon and stars were shrouds.
His eye could see the flaming land
of Mordor, place of Sauron’s hand.

“Arwen! Beloved, the most fair,
my Lúthien, with raven hair!”
His cry was borne upon the air
to lands far distant that were fair.

“Aragorn!” her sweet voice flew back,
“Your courage is not what you lack.
Confidence, in these evil times,
would serve you more than faithless mimes.”

High in the sky, one star still shone –
Elbereth, on the gloaming lawn
of Valinor, the Elven home,
wherein fair Elves forever roam.

Arwen looked upon this star,
close it seemed, yet it was far:
“Ilúvatar, I pray that you
would guard him in what he’s to do.”

Upon the pinnacle of stone,
still he stood; he was alone,
while through the dusk the night breeze blew
o’er Aragorn, the King anew.

~~ * ~~

The One

by The Gréy Elf

there was The One
There, then
not there
Wither opened
the Unlidded’s stare
From iron glove and
glass sand to
a humble halfling’s hand,
it preyed for salvation,
the ring,
the Fell Snare

~~ * ~~


Posted in Creations, Fans, Green Books, Headlines, Poetry on March 20, 2016 by