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 poetry@theonering.net 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.
Hama Stood
by: Braag Son of Balin
In darkest days, The Rohirrim were mired
With Grima, Isengard conspired
A glamour cast on Thengel-Son
Had led the Mark to brink of ruin, before waxing doom of Orodruin
With Dotage, heavy on our sire
Until Hama let Mithrandir’s staff, cleanse his lord with secret fire
Still with noble Theodred lost
Amid cruel Orthanc’s unleashed host
And the Westfold feeling Dunland’s wrath
From Edoras we fled in haste, to Helm’s Deep’s stony cold embrace
There to brace with beam and post
And hunker down to hide in crystal caves what mattered most
And as the rain drew dark that night
While evil enveloped the vale with blight
And terror that the onslaught wrought
Spread thru parapets and towers, bought with lives, the precious hours
Creeping dawn’s reluctant light
Found the Hornburg’s battered gates besieged in desperate plight
It was in that darkest hour that Hama stood
Amidst the crumbled blocks and splintered wood
Alone he faced the snarling hordes
And guarded as the final ward, the only door ‘tween death… and his Lord
Hama stood where none other would
And no Uruk could move him, though death was understood
At the last, impossibly he’d borne
The vital moments stealing to the morn
A door warden he was
And still remained, with thoughts of Leofred and Eorl he’d been sustained
But E’en as he fell, he heard Helm Hammerhand’s horn
Rohan had survived, though ever forlorn
And forevermore with Simbelmyne his grave was adorned
Hama, son of Leoforth
Door-Ward of uncommon worth
Of whose courage, the minstrels sing
With blood slicked back pressed ‘gainst the door, he did retreat not
One…
Step…
More.
Rising from his lowly birth,
Sacrificed, he bore the price, for Mark and King
and Middle Earth
~~ * ~~
The Jewel Folk
by: Tom F.
King Graenor of the Dwarf Folk,
kneeled beside a moonlit sea,
and there he pledged his heart,
to a fair Wood Elf Queen.
Defying Ancient Law,
beneath the stars they wed.
The first forbidden union,
their vows in secret said.
Then one autumn morning,
to them was born a son.
And two races of the Fair Folk,
became joined as one.
Thus began the Legacy of
the Children of the Woods.
Bright shining Forest Gems,
a race misunderstood.
For Dwarven sages wise,
and Elven priests of Light,
proclaimed these small folk,
were demons of the night.
(C) Copyright 1992 by Tom Frye
~~ * ~~
My Heart lies in the Shire
by David McG.
My heart lies in the Shire
The gentle rolling hills and lush woods under clear, warm skies.
Tell tale plumes of smoke drifting lazily upwards from secluded little Hobbit holes,
dotted like colourful sequined buttons in a velvet cushion of green.
No sight of a Lordly monument or Kingly spire.
My heart lies in the Shire
Gardens overflowing with an array of scents and colours.
Lovingly tended by fussing little Hobbit’s
who flit from rose to petunia like overly spoilt bees.
Vegetables to honour the grandest of tables or humblest rabbit stew.
Beauty tenderly shaped from heath and brier.
My heart lies in the Shire
Bagginses and Boffins, Tooks and Brandybucks, Grubbs, Chubbs,
Hornblowers, Bolgers, Bracegirdles and Proudfoots.
Good folk, proud folk. Folk of the earth and the meadow.
Loyal in friendship and strong of will.
A deep lust for a life to which I aspire.
My heart lies in the Shire
~~ * ~~
