ChristmasBilboReadingWelcome 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, you can read all of the poems that we 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.

Our first poem this month comes from The Grey Elf.

The Wind On The Heath

Copyright 2013 Stephen R. Babb

‘Twas winter and the winds did blow
upon the haunted heath
From pointy peaks of mountains gray
that reared like jagged teeth
Now the wind hath chased the sun away
Even the moon hath fled
For moaning ‘cross the plain so drear
it has left but a place of dread

In ages past brave warriors strode
where only dragons dwelled
The drakes did rage upon the plain
but soon their fires were quelled
Though not by swords nor shiny spears
were the serpents brought to bay
‘Twas the winter wind that did them in
as it howled in its mournful way

Years marched by both lonely and long
the winter wind never waining
presiding like some deathless lord
or tyrant king a’reigning
Fell wraiths came to try their lot
upon the barren reaches
Yet even they could not withstand
the winter wind that screeches

No summer came to warm that land
where never a beast dare dwell
Even the wolves did flee at last
from that sound both fiendish and fell
So the winter wind now howls alone
for even the shadows take flight
as fast fleeing deer when the wolf hunts near
on a moonless and wintry night


So small a thing

by Cassie T.

Such a small thing, a ring
A thing that could so easily be lost
Then found by one who would not know its worth.
A bauble, to be fondled and admired
Then polished up and placed upon a shelf.
A small thing, a ring
A thing that may be overlooked with time.
Forgotten, hidden in the dust
To never rest around a finger worn
With good intent but darkened heart.
A little thing, this ring
That calls out to the very soul
Of any weak enough to bend their will
And bring it to the one who formed its shape
And damn all those who stand against its pull.
So small a thing, one ring
To break and bind and rule over them all
When darkness overcomes and light has failed
And man has given up his will to fight
Its golden glory, blinding heart and mind
Such a small thing, a ring
A thing that could so easily be lost
Then found by one who does not know its worth.