Welcome 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 firstname.lastname@example.org One poem per person may be submitted each month. Please make sure to proofread your work before sending it in. TheOneRing.net is not responsible for poems posting with spelling or grammatical errors.
One Hobbit, 13 Dwarves in 6
(inspired by Peter Jackson’s version of The Hobbit)
by The Gréy Elf
Here’s a thing no respectable hobbit should endure:
a plague of beards hungering at their home-sweet-home door
oh so blithe they barged in
laying siege with mayhem
sudden calamity served for my dinner hour
Withered fig trifle and Bree cheese gone in a blink
nineteen kidney pasties they washed down with malt drinks
olives dunked in a treacle keg
every spare crock of fish eggs
Dratted dwarves! They’d be game for trollish gobble-ings!
Just dreary dregs with nary a crust left for me
a victim am I of Gandalf’s hospitality
the rhubarb wine’s now in peril
no help is an empty barrel
Imagine if they discovered my second pantry!!
Earthenware jugs sit in a row, drained and capsized
here bitten spoons, there roughly handled iron knives
Vexing presumptuous gnomes,
why don’t they all just go home?
Then boots began to stamp and bold voices to rise ….
Glinting blue buzzed past me — t’was my best bread-butterer!
Then prized plates launched hand to hand like skeet through the parlor
saucers and tea cups flew forth and back
in wondrous symmetry each one stacked
at my “service,” laughed they, juggling dishes with sly words
Though dumbstruck, I plucked up my Tookish courage once more
as the brass-throated dwarves ended their roistering roar
just invite my guests to de-party
put this misadventure behind me —
hold on —
whose thunder is pounding my treasured green door?
~~ * ~~
Seasons of Silence or A Fragment of Túrin’s Lament for Beleg
by: Briony L
Death is—Death is a daily occurrence,
as Autumn is sure, when oaks are shorn
of leaves of gold that litter the ground.
Yet I thought that a thousand Autumns
would pass unperilous on our present Earth.
Blizzards follow, billowing and freezing—
we hope for healing when hyacinths
blow and beauty blossoms in Spring.
Then sails the sun in Summer before Fall.
I am sorry, my love, that silence lingered
on my lips. My love lessened never
though seasons went by with certainty
and my life was littered with lies and hate.
I dwelt on death and destruction
as the years yielded to ever-turning
time. My tears are tainted with blood
now as I kneel in never-ending
regret; I’ve regained regions of my mind
and heart I once handed to hate, but now
I’m back they’re blank and black with neglect.
My lips have loved too late, the words
I silenced are sick with sorrow and death.
My silence is as certain as the seasons, as sure
as the tumbling tide and the turning years.
Dearest, darkened by death, my love
forever lasts through falling leaves
~~ * ~~