A Land Between Sea and Rivers
by: William D
A land between sea and rivers
Hills with no names were to be found
She clad in gold, trees in silver
Singing and starlight were the sounds
He saw her on a sunless day
Sounds of joy dispelling despair
Deep enchantment took him away
Desire grew and filled the air
Her flawless voice healing the world
She looked for love from light that shone
The whippoorwill could not be heard
and wind unfelt to him alone
He was firstborn with power
His heart was not found with the sea
His realm would be without towers
Among the wood this king would be
Together they ruled among elves
A child like no other was born
A girdle kept peace to themselves
Yet it would fail and she would morn
Evil returned and men appeared
The enemy marred land and water
Great was his might and had no fear
No more sons and no more daughters
Trees were gone and globes sailed above
Seven sons swore an oath to kill
Doom only shaken with true love
The Two Trees in the Silmarils
Light of the Two Trees in those gems
Fortress of Iron, Walls of Stone
King of All wore the diadem
An iron crown for him alone
From mountains of woe and friendly snare
He saw her on a moonless night
Sound of music filled the fresh air
There she weaved her dance in his sight
Her shocked at her father’s bride price
A Silmaril given by hand
Aid provided from a device
To the throne room was his doomed plan
She was firstborn with power
Her fate would not end over sea
Spells threw down high walls and towers
Brokenless her heirs with the trees
Both feel to death and came to halls
Her song of love became great lore
Return to life, but again death will call
Living man would see them no more
A land between sea and rivers
Son with a name isto be found
Her hair of gold, his of silver
Singing and laughter are the sounds
Copyright 2018. All Rights Reserve.
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My Heart lies in the Shire
by: David McG
My heart lies in the Shire
The gentle rolling hills and lush woods under clear, warm skies.
Tell tale plumes of smoke drifting lazily upwards from secluded little Hobbit holes,
dotted like colourful sequined buttons in a velvet cushion of green.
No sight of a Lordly monument or Kingly spire.
My heart lies in the Shire
Gardens overflowing with an array of scents and colours.
Lovingly tended by fussing little Hobbit’s
who flit from rose to petunia like overly spoilt bees.
Vegetables to honour the grandest of tables or humblest rabbit stew.
Beauty tenderly shaped from heath and brier.
My heart lies in the Shire
Bagginses and Boffins, Tooks and Brandybucks, Grubbs,
Chubbs, Hornblowers, Bolgers, Bracegirdles and Proudfoots.
Good folk, proud folk. Folk of the earth and the meadow.
Loyal in friendship and strong of will.
A deep lust for a life to which I aspire.
My heart lies in the Shire
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