Welcome to The Great Hall of Poets, our poetry feature showcasing the talent of Middle-earth fans. 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.
“The Sea Calls us Home”
By: Caroline Flynn
The wind is cold: soon the last leaf shall fall And all shall be covered by winter’s pall. In the restless breeze I hear a call. The Sea calls us home.
Upon this Middle-earth we have endured storm and gale, But now our long years begin to fade and fail, Upon the grey ships we must set sail. For the Sea calls us home.
O land we have loved through the lengthening years, Enriched by our labor, watered by our tears, Why now are you grown so cold and drear? Why does the Sea call us home?
This sorrow of our hearts is not feigned For in this land we have lived and reigned And with our blood is this land stained. But the Sea calls us home.
The Sea! Whose waters contain the memory of old, The eternal Music it most closely holds Our griefs and triumphs its voice enfolds. Thus the Sea calls us home.
To the straight road of the West we now turn, To the undying West for which our hearts now yearn Where the Evening Star begins to burn. For the Sea calls us home.
~~ * ~~
Numenor’s Lament
By: L. May
Life’s many treasures
Drowned in sea spray.
Waves cover memories,
Flooding, razing,
All that was great.
Floating bodies swirl,
Like wave-kissed pebbles,
Tumbling and spinning.
Water foams over,
In unending motion,
Advancing and retreating,
With relentless ruin,
Till flotsam drifts,
Upon restless waves.
Memory fades,
Born out to sea,
Drawn down into
Ulmo’s cold, dark realm.
~~ * ~~
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.
Welcome to The Great Hall of Poets, our poetry feature showcasing the talent of Middle-earth fans. 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.
“To Save a Friend”
by Caroline Flynn
Two red eyes, gleaming in the dark: Two eyes, filled with fiendish lust and desire. Not the light they hoped to pierce their prison stark! Not this end in torture and hellish fire.
Another gone, one more companion dead, In the dark dungeons of that accursed isle; Another werewolf cruelly fed While their master sits above with his triumphant smile.
At last, only two are left alive: Together, Beren and Felagund wait – Wait for the teeth and claws, sharper than knives. How can they escape their terrible fate?
Two red eyes appear in the night. To Felagund they rove, but on Beren they land. But lo! The evil dark is pierced by light As Finrod takes against evil a last stand.
Black blood mingling with the red, Black fur and golden hair, A terrible price Finrod pays in Beren’s stead, There in Tol-in-Gaurhoth, in evil’s lair.
The chains are rent, the dark wizardry spent, And league of love and trust unbroken Unto the Elven-king great strength lent So that in the darkness hope was awoken.
But no! Defeat seems all their prize! The Oath’s doom strikes the Oath-bound. And mortally wounded, Finrod slowly dies, His breath and Beren’s tears the only sounds.
Then Finrod speaks as he in torment lies, And he touches the ring upon Beren’s hand; The golden flowers, the serpents with emerald eyes Such a heavy weight, that small band!
“Namarie!” I go now to the halls beyond Valinor. Alas, that I could do no more upon this quest; But remember me, when I am no more. Namarie! I go now to my rest!”
Beren mourned, and called his name, Finrod Felagund – fair, beloved, and brave. But his last stand was not in vain: Blood for blood was rendered, a friend to save.
~~ * ~~
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.
Welcome to The Great Hall of Poets, our regular 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.
Forth rode Earnil, last king of Gondor
Upon the Witch-King of Angmar to make war.
There ensued a terrible fight,
In which the Witch-King appeared and showed forth his might.
None could withstand the terror of his onslaught,
But Earnil, undeterred, would have stood and fought
Had not his horse fled, being crazed with fear
When the Witch-King with a horrible cry drew near.
The Witch-King laughed, at what he saw as fright,
But then his eyes were stung by a blinding light.
Turning his horse, away he sped,
Even as he mocked, into the darkness he fled.
He who had subjected lands and realms to his rule
And of Sauron’s servants was the most feared and cruel,
Could not withstand one who had beheld the Two Trees
And walked in lands beyond the Sundering Seas.
For Glorfindel had come up from Rivendell;
Bright was his sword, his eyes fey and fell.
He who of old had grappled with Shadow and Flame,
Unveiled his power, and with renewed might he came.
As Earnil rode back, chafing with anger and hate,
Glorfindel, gazing into the dusk, foresaw the Enemy’s fate,
Stretching far into the long years ahead.
Turning to the captain, he withheld him and said:
“Do not pursue him – far off yet is his doom!
And much more must be accomplished before the gathering of that gloom.
Not by the hand of man will he be slain:
Rather, the unlooked-for will arise and be his bane.”
And so it was, that the prophecy was spoken,
Though many years passed before it was awoken,
During the great battles fought for the One Ring,
And the Nazgul were sent forth, led by the Witch-King.
Despair and darkness he spread, wherever he went,
And the body of Theoden King apart he rent.
But then with an opponent he stood face to face,
Who was unafraid of the unseen eyes and deadly mace.
“Begone foul lord of carrion!” the clear voice spoke. “Let him lie in peace!”
“Stand not between me and my prey,” came the cold reply, “else you will go to where there is no release.”
There was sharp ring as was drawn a sword.
“No living man may hinder me!” laughed the lord.
Thus was spoken the prophecy of long ago,
The selfsame one spoken by his deadly foe.
Doubt entered the Nazgul’s mind as sun gleamed on golden hair,
And he was reminded of Glorfindel the fair.
“No man am I!” a woman’s voice returned,
And in Eowyn of Rohan’s eyes a fearless light burned.
The fell beast of the Witch-King reared up and rose,
Its rider furious that anyone should dare him oppose.
But Eowyn leapt aside, and clove off the beast’s head,
And from the ruin rose the dark and deadly Dread.
With a mighty stroke he broke her arm and clove her shield,
And it looked as though he would triumph upon Pelennor Field.
But in that hour Eowyn stood not alone,
And in the darkness another desperate courage shone.
From behind a sword pierced the sinews of the Witch-King’s knee,
And with a despairing cry, from his terror the world was set free.
Neither swordsman tall nor warrior strong
Had done this deed so worthy of song.
Only Merry the Hobbit, from the humble Shire
Out of love had helped the maiden in her need so dire.
And so it was: not by the hand of man did the Witch-King fall
But at the hand of a woman of the Golden Hall
And by a dagger taken from the tomb of a barrow-wight,
Wound with spells for his demise, in that long-ago fight.
~~ * ~~
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.
Welcome to The Great Hall of Poets, our regular 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.
Memories of the Second Age
By H. Wiggins
We look to old days, and hold to them fast.
When woodlands were green, and Arda still young,
From Autumn to Spring, and days now long passed.
Of rings and their lords, and sonnets once sung.
Before Elves crossed the west in ships of grey,
And Fellowships were formed to follow their road.
When Dwarves delved deeper into the fray,
And men’s lives were long, the seas their abode.
The shadows linger, though chained they were thought,
And the light of two trees fades into night.
Peace will not last, though for long it was fought.
Alliances form to carry the light.
Free folk will stand true and Sauron will rage
For these are the days of the Second Age.
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.
Welcome to The Great Hall of Poets, our regular 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.
Winter Kings
In the heart of lonely winter, beneath branches bare, wearing thorny crowns, they dash through frosty air. Kings of the woodlands, royal with noble grace, among dark trees they run, finding sport in the chase. Over tall hills they travel, winding through misty glens, these wild stags of the forest, racing in the winter winds.
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.
Welcome to The Great Hall of Poets, our regular 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.
Lament for Númenor
by J. Newsom
Before the surging seas were bent
and Ulmo's fury fully spent
and Númenor in all its pride
to doom was sent,
sweet Elvenhome could still be seen,
it's peaks aglow in silver sheen,
by Kingly eyes both clear and keen
from the peak of Meneltarma.
Oh Númenor, oh Númenor!
Precious gift of Valinor!
The creeping fear of mortal tide
estranged your folk from wisdom's guide
now lost for evermore.
The faithful trod with reverent step
the road which round the mountain swept
to reach the view that far and wide
their senses wrapped.
Overhead the eagles soared
while on the summit stillness roared
and none could voice a single word
on the peak of Meneltarma.
Oh Númenor, oh Númenor!
Precious gift of Valinor!
The creeping fear of mortal tide
estranged your folk from wisdom's guide
now lost for evermore.
The land is lost beneath the wave.
From tower tall to quiet nave,
into the depths did each one slide.
None were saved.
Elendil and his faithful few
with nine ships fled the ocean's spew.
Into their sails the torrents blew
from the isle of Meneltarma.
Oh Númenor, oh Númenor
precious gift of Valinor
the creeping fear of mortal tide
estranged your folk from wisdom's guide
now lost for evermore.
~~ * ~~
A Silmarillion Haiku
by Henry Herz
In the beginning,
Grew trees, golden and silver,
Lighting the heavens.
Ice bright and cold the mountain seemed
The sun was shining bright
Yet from faraway the darkness came and soon began the night
With the moon reflecting on the cold hard way every scene so clear
Reflecting the hearts of many men when love was no longer dear.
~~ * ~~
Lament For Hurin
by mimiï
Oh Hurin, Hurin,
now thee set free,
oh Hurin, Hurin,
how can it be?
You will never know,
what a dreadful sin,
you will never know,
you have doomed your kin,
Oh Turin, Turin, Turin,
why must your sad fate befall?
Oh Turin, Turin, Turin,
beckon to Thingol’s calls,
Beleg did try,
to heal the curse,
Beleg did try,
Turin only got worse,
Oh Hurin, Hurin,
why has fate turned this way?
men bewitched by greed,
of the line of Hurin, Morgoth needn’t slay…
~~ * ~~
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.
