by: The Grey Elf<\/em><\/p>\n#1
\nA stooped trio peered into a kettle
\nWiped clean from licks many and spittle
\n“It’s empty,” observed tall one-ton
\n“So’s yer ‘ead” said Bert Sr.’s son
\nA grocery list indeed they must settle….<\/p>\n
#2
\nScabby carrion and pickled summer moss
\nFungal goo drops, very pure, plus vermin dross
\nFrom rabid jaws, fresh squeezed slaver
\nFor a blood sauce, marrow of cadaver
\nAnd gray mouse tails so they can thoroughly floss.<\/p>\n
#3
\n“Me apron’s on, Tom, get yer to market”
\n“Kindlin’s cold, Bill, grab a flint and spark it”
\n“‘Where’s me purse?” cried simple Tom
\nUpon his face, Bert slaps a palm,
\n“T’were written out!” and clouts his slow target.<\/p>\n
#4
\nBy and by, Bill raised up from his latrine
\n“Did yer wash yer hands? Are they squeaky clean?”
\n“Did I wha’?” asked wafty Bill
\n“Good lad! Yer can have yer fill.”
\nSee, Bert wasn’t all couth-less and mean.<\/p>\n
#5
\nA fetid soup sat reeking before them
\n“Time fer grace,” Bert said, discharging some phlegm
\n“Give us gold, give us grog,
\n“Give us grub and a mad dog ” —
\n“Now fall in, lads, let us swill to the brim.”<\/p>\n
#6
\nWith bellies bulbous, three trolls digested
\nTheir pastime was now closely contested
\n“Oi’d like a tale!”, “‘Oi’d like a smoke!!”
\nTom piped, ” ‘ow ’bout kara\u014dke!!!”
\nAn all-out brawl proved what answer bested.<\/p>\n
\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n~~~~~<\/span><\/p>\nTHE ELVES LAMENT<\/h4>\n
by: RangerLady23<\/em><\/p>\n[1st Age]<\/p>\n
This land is beautiful
\nso untamed
\nso many lands
\nthat have no names.
\nTrees to plant
\nand grass to grow
\nand other things
\nwe’ll never know.
\nSongs to write
\nlike none before
\nthat shall be sung
\nforever more.
\nBirds and beasts
\nto fill the land
\nthings to awaken
\nwith a gentle hand.
\nElven kind
\nso young and brave
\nhave much to learn
\nbut many days.
\nAnd so we danced
\ncontent with peace
\nknowing not
\nfear or grief.
\nThe age’s end
\nwas drawing near
\nwe felt that good
\nwas always here.
\nFirst age is past
\nand next begun
\nbut two will be
\nas good as one.
\nOr so we thought
\nbut we were wrong
\nour downfall’s sung
\nin many songs.<\/p>\n
[2nd Age]<\/p>\n
The Elves were blind
\nhe tricked us all
\nand now we fear
\nthe world shall fall.
\nWhat have we done?
\nWhy did we trust?
\nHis kindly words
\nhave turned to dust.
\nHis evil ways
\nwere always set
\nand we have naught
\nexcept regret.
\nSeven rings
\nhe has them all
\nnine for Men
\nobey his call.
\nThe Elven three
\nare hidden well
\nand not an Elven
\nsoul will tell.
\nThe One is His
\nand His alone
\nOne for the Dark Lord
\non His Dark Throne.
\nAnother age
\nis passing by
\nand very soon
\nthe Elves will fly.
\nTo the Havens
\nthen set sail
\nand trees will die
\nthat once were hale.
\nBut ere we sail
\nto peace and calm
\nwe’ll help the Men
\nto right our wrongs.<\/p>\n
[3rd Age]<\/p>\n
The One is lost
\nor so it seems
\n“It’s mine! “It’s mine!”
\nwe hear him scream.
\nSearching near
\nand off away
\nit will return
\nto him one day.
\nOur days grow thin
\nour glory fades
\nour happiness
\nwill pass away.
\nLothlorien
\nand Rivendell
\nMirkwood fair
\nbut also fell.
\nAll will pass
\nwhen we are gone
\nbut be remembered
\nin our songs.
\nThis age will fade
\nand fourth draw near
\na King will come
\nin battle gear.
\nThis age for Men
\nand not for Elves
\nwe’ve saved the land
\nbut not ourselves.
\nThe Three are safe
\nand so we planned
\ntheir powers faded
\nfrom our hands.
\nwe give our blessings
\nto mankind
\nand hope that they
\nwill someday find.
\nThe beauty of
\nthis Middle-earth
\nthe living things
\nand all their worth.
\nTo the Havens
\nwe go in haste
\nbut do not weep
\nthis is our fate.
\nSo here at last
\nwe say fare well
\nto Lorien
\nand Rivendell.<\/p>\n
~~~~~<\/p>\n
\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\nSon of Gondor<\/h4>\n
by: Shannon C<\/em><\/p>\nSon of the steward of the white city,
\neldest of his father’s heirs
\nwarrior and defender
\nprotector of Gondor<\/p>\n
Marshaling his garrisons
\nkeeping Mordor’s onslaughts at bay
\ncourage unequaled
\nstrength to fend off the shadow<\/p>\n
Mighty was he in strength and stature
\ntall and grim
\nthe blood of N\u00famenor ran in his veins
\nhe bore a horn made from that of a wild ox<\/p>\n
United with other free peoples of Middle-earth
\non a quest to oppose the enemy
\nto hinder the ever-growing malice
\nhe set out from the land of Imladris with eight others<\/p>\n
Long and terrible their quest seemed
\ndefeated by cruel Caradhras
\nthe fall of Mithrandir in the Mines of Moria
\nthe Orcs pursuing their company<\/p>\n
Upon Amon Hen his will was corrupted
\ndrawn by lust for the One Ring
\nseeking to use it’s power to protect the people of his city
\nthus it was that the Ring corrupted Boromir son of the lord Denethor<\/p>\n
He endeavored to seize the Ring from the halfling Frodo
\nto snatch that which would give him power
\nhe attempted to undo what the council at Imladris decided
\nhe tried to take the Ring from the ring-bearer<\/p>\n
His lust to save Minas Tirith was too great
\nand the Ring’s power made his lust grow
\non Amon Hen he faltered
\nthe halfling escaped his grasp<\/p>\n
The revelation of his great mistake came ere the hour of his death
\nhe could not find the halfling and was told to look after the halfling’s kinsmen, Meriadoc and Peregrin
\nupon the struggle to help the halflings, the enemy’s forces were on the move
\nthey reached Amon Hen
\nthey slew the mighty warrior<\/p>\n
Upon the great ox horn he blew mightily
\nalas for he was not in the boundaries of his homeland,
\nno help came
\nhe fended his companions as long as he could
\nbut at last he fell
\npierced with many arrows
\nwounded many a time
\nin a valiant attempt for redemption,
\nthe great son of Gondor fell<\/p>\n
His time in the world was ended
\nupon his death bed, he received redemption from Aragorn, one of his companions,
\nand thus did Boromir depart from Middle-earth<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Welcome to The Great Hall of Poets, our regular monthly feature showcasing the talent of Middle-earth fans. Each…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":82,"featured_media":78710,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"inline_featured_image":false,"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[198,197,159],"tags":[1788,2145],"class_list":["post-78709","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-fans-creations","category-fans","category-torn-community","tag-library","tag-poetry"],"aioseo_notices":[],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/www.theonering.net\/torwp\/wp-content\/uploads\/2013\/09\/BoromirReadingYeats_Rev-e1454044695840.jpg","jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p1tLoH-ktv","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.theonering.net\/torwp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/78709","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.theonering.net\/torwp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.theonering.net\/torwp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.theonering.net\/torwp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/82"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.theonering.net\/torwp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=78709"}],"version-history":[{"count":8,"href":"https:\/\/www.theonering.net\/torwp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/78709\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":78720,"href":"https:\/\/www.theonering.net\/torwp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/78709\/revisions\/78720"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.theonering.net\/torwp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/78710"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.theonering.net\/torwp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=78709"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.theonering.net\/torwp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=78709"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.theonering.net\/torwp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=78709"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
![\"BoromirReadingYeats_Rev\"](\"http:\/\/www-images.theonering.org\/torwp\/wp-content\/uploads\/2013\/09\/BoromirReadingYeats_Rev-300x282.jpg\")
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, while the rest of the submissions will be available in a new Poetry page we’re currently working on.<\/p>\n