{"id":104632,"date":"2018-01-28T23:31:17","date_gmt":"2018-01-29T04:31:17","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.theonering.net\/torwp\/?p=104632"},"modified":"2018-01-28T23:31:17","modified_gmt":"2018-01-29T04:31:17","slug":"the-great-hall-of-poets-53","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.theonering.net\/torwp\/2018\/01\/28\/104632-the-great-hall-of-poets-53\/","title":{"rendered":"The Great Hall of Poets"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"\"<\/a>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\u00a0Great Hall of Poets<\/a>.<\/p>\n

So come and join us by the hearth and enjoy!<\/span><\/p>\n

If you have a Tolkien\/Middle-earth inspired poem you\u2019d like to share, then send it to\u00a0poetry@theonering.net<\/a>\u00a0\u00a0<\/em>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.<\/em><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

SONG OF THE WOODMEN<\/strong><\/h4>\n

by: Brian H.<\/em><\/p>\n

In ancient times Three folk began:
\nThe Elves, the Dwarves, and the race of Man.
\nBeckoned by Light alive in the West,
\nThey came by sunset paths to rest.
\nThe Blessed B\u00e9ma and his steed Nahar
\nWere hunting our forests by light of star.
\nThen darkness grew and sought to curse
\nThe goodness of this Middle Earth.
\nThus first division of the Brave;
\nElf-friend or shadow-slave.
\nBanners of houses noble and sure
\nBeor, Haleth, and Hador they were.
\nMuch lore is lost of the times back then,
\nWhen our folk were cloven once again.
\nMany Men to Westernesse left,
\nAnd Middle-earth was long bereft
\nOf heroes to fight against the Dark.
\nAll was wild, yet ears would hark
\nTo hunting horns and village halls
\nWhere fires warmed, and story scrawls
\nIts glorious deeds on wooden walls.<\/p>\n

Good was the day when faithful oars
\nBeyond the mountains, returned to shores
\nOf Middle-Earth, from Numenor.
\nKingdoms arose! While Greenwood the Great
\nGrew and throve with a different fate.
\nFree men lived in the Eastern Eaves
\nWhere autumn winds blew crimson leaves.
\nTheir halls were built from mighty trees
\nAnd shaped the stables for their steeds.
\nWe ruled the plains, Rhovanion,
\nAnd of that land, lived many on.
\nThen Gondor\u2019s foes from bitter East
\nWith swords and cries they broke our peace.
\nWainriders strove with Northmen, yet
\nWe made them pay their own blood-debt.
\nBut in those days a plague befell
\nAnd slew our people, a killing spell.
\nHearths were cold, bodies buried;
\nBairns not born, maids not married.
\nA tenth of our strength remained to wander
\nAnd from those days we lived asunder:<\/p>\n

Men of Dale, Rohan, and our Wood.
\nYet still we served the Light and the Good\u2014
\nThis third division broke our speech
\nAs one forest holds oak, elm, and beech.
\nOur Greenwood changed, by Sorcerer\u2019s will
\nIn Elvish ruins: Dol Guldur\u2019s hill
\nMade it Mirkwood; in deepest clearing
\nWebs were woven for our fearing.
\nOrcs and wargs from mountain lairs
\nPoured out to catch us unawares.
\nThen mighty halls were built to stand
\nDefiant in the Middle Land:
\nWoodmen-Town, there lit by Lamp
\nAnd filled with life, our ancient camp;
\nWoodland Hall, with bowmen bright,
\nAnd clever carvings for second sight;
\nThe Mountain Hall, a fastness grim
\nTo shake a goblin\u2019s knees and shins;
\nAnd Rhosgobel, the Wizard\u2019s seat
\nWhere wisdom lives, and our folk meet.
\nMay all be merry, and the mead be sweet.<\/p>\n

Brian Huseland \u00a9 2017<\/p>\n

~~ * ~~<\/p>\n

The Walls of the White Tower<\/strong><\/h4>\n

by David McG.<\/em><\/p>\n

‘Flee! Flee for your lives. Abandon the walls
\nGo home to your wives’
\nThe Darkness is spilling over Pelennor field.
\nWe watched and we saw poor Osgiliath yield.
\nFaramir, our Captain, the Stewards last son, has failed to return, now we’re ordered to run?<\/p>\n

Row upon row of our enemies come crawling
\nOne by one our defences are falling
\nLike ravenous insects they won’t stop til they’re sated
\nAnd the White City runs with our blood unabated.
\nWhilst high up above, death screams in the air
\nThe Nazgul are filling stout hearts with despair.<\/p>\n

Lord Denethor saw this in dreams in the Tower
\nHas it stripped him of courage and relieved him of power?
\nWhy does he come now to talk of defeat?
\nWhilst down on the Pelennor the war drums they beat.
\nOh where is Lord Boromir ? Oh why did he fall?
\nWhat will become of the men on the wall?<\/p>\n

The darkness grows deeper now, no light at all.
\nDeep as the despair that runs on the wall.
\nFear, it is gripping the hearts of the men
\nResolve it is fading as the cry comes again
\n‘Abandon the walls . Go home to your wives’
\nShould we give up our post? Will they spare us our lives?<\/p>\n

But wait! Somethings changing! A new voice rings clear.
\nCommanding the men to ‘Stand fast. Show no fear!’
\nIt’s Mithrandir, the Wizard he has taken control
\nTo face down the war machines as slowly they roll
\nOver the Pelennor, approaching the wall.
\n‘You are soldiers of Gondor. Now fight Men, or fall!’<\/p>\n

The darkness is shifting to the White Wizards light
\nAs we stand there beside him, ready to fight.
\nThe great gate is broken but the walls they hold firm
\nDefended by Men now with courage returned
\nAnd up from the docks comes the Flame of the West
\nThe blade that was forged for dark deeds to atone
\nOur King! He’s returned to reclaim his throne!<\/p>\n

Dark clouds now are fading to the light of first dawn
\nBlown back to Dark Mordor by a Rohirrim horn.
\nOaths honoured, not forsaken, our allies are here.
\nAs from the great wall, the danger breaks clear,
\nWhilst the enemy’s mad bloodlust turns slowly to fear.
\nThe walls they run red now as we give forth our all
\nFor united we stand knowing Gondor won’t fall.<\/p>\n

~~ * ~~<\/p>\n

Spawn of Ungoliant<\/strong><\/h4>\n

by: Luke T.<\/em><\/p>\n

A deadly lady,
\nwho lives on her own.
\nShe waits patiently,
\nin her halls of stone.
\nHigh in the mountain,
\nlies her evil lair.
\nShe hates all lifeforms,
\nand doesn\u2019t like to share.
\nShe feeds on her prey,
\ncaught in her sticky cob.
\nYou\u2019ll never escape,
\nfrom the lair of Shelob.<\/p>\n

~~ * ~~<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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