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 Ride of Dernhelm
by: J Houdart
Across the sea of golden-grassed plain
Sails Windfola, swift, bearing two without name
In day yet darkened by menace unspoken
Gentler lies are soon to be broken
As on with the company, racing toward doom
At the walls of yon city, be-circled with gloom
Dernhelm the Silent keeps hidden his face
But hides not his passion, his strength and fell grace.
To War! beats his heart, to Death! sings his sword
But rides he in silence, without leave of his lord.
Cloak-hidden, shadow-ridden he takes all care to be
For the secret he keeps, his brothers must not see
That secret he holds and another he bears
Before him on Windfola: a small hobbit shares
His duty and destiny, to great deeds they are called
Upon Pelennor’s vast field before the prize thus high-walled.
For there in that doom a dark Power lay,
waiting and coiled, whom no man can slay.
How then can this man, fierce and strong though he be
Strike true? End the terror? Make the walled city free?But that deed will soon come. Two wounds will be wrought
One by hobbit, brave and true, a man and yet not
And Dernhelm the Silent will give voice at last
Striking true, Death banished back into the Past.
At great cost, that blow giv’n, yet hope will remain
For the hero to sing and ride out free again
But proud, hair unbound, laughter ringing and strong
For the secret is done, surprise mingled with song
As his helm is then moved, and his kinsmen find there
True hero yet no brother: Eowyn the Fair.
~~ * ~~
Untitled
by: A Plume Cox
Your shields break beneath our blade
We invade your sacred home
Prepare to be crushed by our one crusade
As we move along and roam.
You call this land the southlands
Now hear our volcano roar
In the end you will not stand
In the new land Mordor.
Here the orcs roam all free
In the fiery dark land
Any human, elf or dwarf who enters will have to flea
Or be scorched by Sauron’s hand.
~~ * ~~
