Just popping my head in to say hey! and also– I just found, whilst digging through my computer files, a poetry collection that I put together awhile ago, called ‘Of Middle-Earth’. It is a collection of all the poems I’ve written based on J.R.R. Tolkien’s wonderful books, and most of the poems I wrote probably four or five years ago, but I still think they’re not too bad, haha! So I wanted to share them with you, and see what you think. Please be sure to let me know in the comments below!
Never did I awake, ‘till music reached my ears. All the day I was captured By fears. My eyelids fell, and did not see The sun— Only the breeze could I feel. Grey monotony and voices loud, Only increased the shroud Over the day, Where weariness gloried in its sway.
I heard unhappy wives of desperate thieves— Tears falling like Autumn leaves, Receive but satire from their host Who leering makes laconic boast, But beneath, I hear his pain. When, when will come the rain? Wash away this pain, oh rain! Sooth our hearts with your grey skies— And of pleasant things we’ll surmise.
All the way home I could not speak, Mercy awaiteth but the meek. All around me was the cold, Melting in the heat of anger old. When will you come, rainy day, And wash this filth away? Noise, you are detestable; Jocularity, you are unbearable.
Home, sweet cage, I am back. Your inmates are fast asleep— Why am I surprised? In tears you were baptized. “Did you get paid?” “No, it was delayed.” “It’s dinnertime.” “There’s only a dime.”
When will you come, oh rain, To wash away the shame? I must shake off that hideous strength.
Wind chimes—was e’er there a sweeter sound? Its gentle mastery can through my soul resound. Moon or Sun—a conductor each, The quiet wind gives silver speech, Crickets make a chorus fair, Or gentle birds in springtime air. All of these charitable contrive, To saturate my soul—make it alive, With sweetest melodies to make, My laughter again awake.
She woke suddenly, dew baptized her brow. Where was the blood— what had happened now? Amethyst replaced red as heather, her feather bed, and diamonds gave place to leaves. A forest cathedral the castle’s place took, she gazed about thinking her eyes mistook. Liquid eyes reflected liquid sky— “What happened, O sky?” “Am I dead? when did I die?” No, little skies—trusting, frightened skies, you did not die— you’re very much alive. Bird’s music takes place of solemn minstrel, somehow this music is more hopeful. Sleep is more peaceful, stars are more beautiful than diamonds and purest gold.
She sat up slowly, and placed her back against a tree. “How can this be?” “What happened to me?” You are free! You are free! Become who you were born to be! Walnut leaves caress her soft hands, so delicate, so beautiful— they remind her of pages… pages of a book— was it not the Book of Life? She breathes quickly at the remembrance, beautiful words, sharper than swords— sharper than the sword that pierced her. With a cry of pain, she remembers now, and goes to her side, a hand to her brow, “what, O what shall I do now?”
Cast out from all she had known, the harvest of foul seeds sown— how sin looked like gold before! “O, had I known what was in store!” Yet as tears flow mingled down, so descends peace, like a crown, how so fast does pain gasp, and drown?
The dark and water meld in cohesive air, carried on a midnight breeze give life to my lair, as I sit in love, alone here, not with a man— but with the moon, stars, air, of this midnight in which I sit and could forever delight.
Enjoyed this poem? There’s a lovely collection of 2019 poetry just waiting for you to read!
Liquid memories fall all around me, that calming sound which soothes the soul; the skies’ tears, they wash away the dirt of earth and mind, and when I see them I soon find I’m reminded of a tender picture— taken not long ago; not desecrated by paper common or bright ink, but in my mind whilst I breathe and think. This memory is written in the rain. It’s paths, indeed, are marred by pain, but like the broken fragments of the Oriental’s vase, the pain serves not the memory to efface, but to make it more lovely yet, in this case. There is a memory (this one of which I speak) which I often struggle to recall— it is the face of a man… and oft I cannot find what I seek. But then I close my eyes and think of a sandy raincoat, hanging long, a voice upraised in holy song, and peace, as pure as the day is long— then I see his face. I see it as he smiled, a memory by fears undefiled; I see him as I said farewell— his eyes, his eyes… and the raincoat bay. I see him that way to this day.
Enjoyed reading this poem? There are lots more to be found on the 2019 Poetry page!
We fall—ever like tears we fall, joyful in our weeping, poignant in our steeping of earth and life, in liquid clear. Downward tumbling, always near, graceful in our stumbling, never fear— we each fall at our appointed pace, at last reaching the chosen resting place.
Liked this poem? Be sure to check out all of the latest 2019 poetry, including this poem, on the new 2019 Poetry page!