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The Great Hall of Poets


Dec 26 2017, 4:04am

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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 Great Hall of Poets.

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.

A Dragon Comes to Call

by David McG

Oh what former glory lies in ruins and shattered embers.
Monumental feats of craft now scorched and touched by death.
Silent now the chanting halls once filled with mirth and friendship.
Ripped and torn by furious lust to seek it's bed to rest.
No remorse for legacies stolen for ancient lines now broken.
In the hurricane of wrathful fury where not a word was spoken.
Mighty valour, strength of arms, a fortress hewn of stone.
Treasure laden, gluttonous hoards lit by living flame.
None withstood the daggered claw, the glistening spears, the withering roar.
None save the honoured few,
The spared few,
The broken few.
Lost now and desolate to wander far and wide.
In mourning, stripped of pride and laid bare in the surrendered throne room hall.
Abandoned, forsaken, alone.
The Heart of the Mountain pierced and left to fall as a trinket, a bauble, a prize.
Repossessed and coveted now by a King of ancient malice.
"Tragu" cried the Men of the Dales.
"Worm!" spat the Dwarves of the Hills
"The Terrible" shuddered the Halflings of the Shire but all to no avail.
"The Mighty"..."The Magnificent"..."The Golden" preferred he.
For He is Fire.
He is Death.
He has arrived!

~~ * ~~

The Call of Valinor

by: Mithril Tinu

Sometimes at the break of day,
I hear a voice, softly calling,
Whispering from far away:
Come, come, come.

Here in Middle-Earth I dwell,
And with the Elves I find my home.
I walk through field and shady dell;
Far I roam.

I wander far by star-filled streams,
Flowing ever to the sea.
The sea and stars they call to me:
Come, come, come.

And sometimes in my dreams at night,
I see upon a distant shore
A golden light: the light of

And when, at the break of day,
I once more hear the gentle voice,
I turn my eyes to the sea.
Come, come, come.

My heart tells me that I must go,
And so I leave fair Middle-Earth,
To sail across the silver sea,
To my home.

~~ * ~~

A Shire Party

by: Becky A

One morning in the Shire so green,
came many knocks on a door.
Bilbo Baggins was soon to be seen,
later on near the old moor.
Down came a wagon on a path;
an old friend was coming.
Young Frodo gave out a laugh
and soon took off running.
They met at an old oak,
He saw Gandalf happily walking,
and wearing his grey cloak.
His wagon steed tied on a fence,
the two walked forward hence.

Later in the evening,
Bilbo's party was in full swing.
So amazing, no one even thought of leaving.
Gandalf's fireworks were bright green,
and the feast was the finest ever eaten.
Of the party everyone was very keen,
for every other party had been beaten.

~~ * ~~

(This post was edited by entmaiden on Jan 2 2018, 3:25pm)


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