The Great Hall of Poets – August 2015

Entish Dreams (A Hasty Poem)

By Braag, Son of Balin

Looming loamish languid forms
Deep sleep I, amid the storms
Storms of ken and storms of cloud
That batter bark encrusted shrouds

The draughts I’ve drunk, the rays lived under
The stones my seed has riven asunder
Have crafted core, branch, twig and leaf
And muddled mind absorbed in grief

Much is lost to forest floor
Decaying carpet of ageless lore
The crush of memories pressing down
Smothering desire of sight or sound

Yet walked I once from sea to sea
Shaded by endless canopy
Glinted by scintillating stars
Slanting home in shimmering bars

Effortlessly I mastered earth
And witnessed lesser beings birthed
Wide my branches gathered in
The pulse of life and choral din

But rapture sought is sorrow found
The Ent-Wives ache cut wounds profound
As axes scoring trunk and root
Pain unsuccored by Entish moot

With witless whim, my self withdrew
Like cruelest winters palest hue
Endured but n’er again embraced
Consciousness bereft of time or space

Unburdened by this treasonous soul
With waiting my most mortal goal
Worried not, as just a tree
Until at last eternity

~~ * ~~


By Lydwina Marie

Fairest world ever seen,
washed by springs of water clean,
Flowing with fountains of mirth,
the world: fair Middle-earth.

Trees and grass and hills full fair,
Elves, with shining golden hair.
Men in their tall mighty halls
and Eagles, with piercing calls.

Dwarves a-delving in the deep,
heights and hills that rearing leap
sunny peaks from end to end;
Their tops the fluffy clouds mend.

Hobbits in their sandy holes,
living somewhat like the moles;
Food, pantries, and other things,
caring not for rich bright rings.

But Middle-earth remains fair,
fairer than the brightest star;
Unworn by great thought and care,
and sorrows flee upon the air.

The Elves sing and dance by streams,
their sleep is blest with fair dreams
Of Valinor, the Elven Home,
and crashing waves with silv’ry foam.

The Men dream of fame and pow’r,
not of grass and golden flow’r.
Helpless in their misery,
in their silver livery.

The Eagles of the heights see far,
and nothing can their eyesight mar.
Free: the creatures of the air,
untouched by thought, word, and care.

The Dwarves’ dreams are of rocks and jewels,
uncovering great sights and pools.
Thinking thoughts of golden lore,
never dancing on the moor.

The happy Hobbits have no cares
of evil cruelty and lairs;
They live a life of perfect ease,
revelling in the grass and trees.

The Dunedain, the dour Men
scour the Shire and many a den.
Silent and watchful in the dark of night,
they’re seldom seen but at twilight.

The stars in the bright-studded sky
look down on all the world’s sights.
The whole earth from end to end they see
from stream to rushing Sea.

The great Sea rushes and foams,
and the golden sand it combs.
With gentle, peaceful waves dark blue,
while tiny shells the tide saves.

People of the mighty Sea
in their seawashed weather lee;
Living in that tall stone tower,
ruling Dol Amroth with power.

The secret Elves live in high lees
revelling in the shade of trees.
Leaving, not seen by many
passing o’er the untouched fen.

~~ * ~~


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