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Showing posts from October, 2009

Six Years Old

Blue eyes peering
Through a screen of yellow hair; Glances with smiles That twinkle in their stare.
Red lips laughing, Brightly flushed with ruddy hue, Tiny white teeth, And such soft, pink cheeks, too.
You are lovely, But blushing pride does not show; At six years old, You do not really know.



Music

Spellbinding music, Cordant and whole, Filling my ears And stirring my soul.
Faraway places Mind's eye can see The music has Brought them close to me.
Crackling fires, Wisps of grey smoke, Vagabond camp Of some gypsy folk.
Close by the fire Sits an old bard. His dark features marked By life long and hard.
In his withered hand, An old violin, Placed reverently Beneath his chin.
One lingering note Floats off with the smoke, The camp becomes Hushed, the wild folk Gather around him To hear the old songs Of homeland and heartland- For every soul longs  To see it once more. The old fiddle sings Of bygone times. The melody rings Sweet, sad and clear, Songs of their pain, Cries from the shores They won't see again.
Out of my vision I wake with a start, I have no place In these peoples' heart.
I have no place in The songs of their home, I do not walk The roads that they roam.
I must go my way, They must go theirs, Apart, save for What everyone shares- The longing for some Home, fo…

A Curse on the Pooka

The Pooka is a creature of Irish mythology. It can appear in several forms such as a horse, human, or eagle. For more information, you can go here: www.irelandseye.com/paddy3/preview2.htm
My hens lay no eggs
An' my cows yield no milk, A curse on the Pooka An all o' his ilk!
In darkness o' night I heard him rushin' past, Now my livestock won't eat; They're goin' down fast.
I left him a gift At the top o' the hill, So he'd not fright my stock Nor do me an ill.
I prayed to the saints To protect me from harm, But my poor beasts are in A state o' alarm.
There's naught I can do Wi' a creature so rude, Who will frighten my kine, An' poor chicken brood.
My hens lay no eggs An' my cows yield no milk, A curse on the Pooka An' all o' his ilk!

The Pooka

Riding, riding, riding,
Riding through the night. Riding, riding, riding, 'Til the morning light.
Gallop toward the village, Canter up the hill, See the frightened faces Peep o'er window sill.
Riding, riding, riding, Riding through the night. Riding, riding, riding, 'Til the morning light.
Who will be your rider On this moonless night? Who shall sit astride you, Gripped by chilling fright?
Riding etc.
Stopping at a cottage, All inside is still. Luckless folk are hiding From your iron will.
Riding etc.
Stamping in the dooryard, You call out a name, The cot door cracks open, Out creeps small Etain*.
Riding etc.
Rearing on your haunches, Snorting clouds of steam, You leap quickly forward, Etain chokes a scream.
Riding etc.
Tearing through the pastures, You begin the tale, Of young Etain's fortune- All she does will fail.
Riding etc.
Etain has no chances For a happy life. Your keens eyes have foreseen Misery and strife.
Riding etc.
Seasons of great hardship, Days of loss …

Sam

Here are four LoTR-inspired poems that I wrote.

What would I do without you, my Sam, what would I do without you? Alone in the dark, grey mists in my soul, The Shadow of Evil taking control, What would I do without you?
What would I do without you, my Sam, what would I do without you? Alone, quite alone in this hostile land, Without the aid of your kind, faithful hand, What would I do without you?
What would I do without you, my Sam, what would I do without you? A simple gard'ner you seemed to me, A great-hearted warrior you proved to be. What would I do without you?

Lady of Rohan

Pale and fair, pale and fair,
Lady White with golden hair, Lady of Rohan.
Pale and fair, pale and fair, Torn by love and worn with care, Lady of Rohan.
Pale and fair, pale and fair, Keep up hope, do not despair! Lady of Rohan.
Pale and fair, pale and fair, Bravely facing battle's stare, Lady of Rohan.
Pale and fair, pale and fair, Healed at last, love finds you there, Lady of Rohan.

Light

This is from the scene in LoTR when Galadriel appears to Frodo in Shelob's lair.

Alone, I was alone and afraid, The dark pressed in on me with hungry jaws. I fell, the evil 'round my neck weighed me down. Evil approached from all sides, gnashing its gruesome fangs. Then, suddenly, you appeared to me. Your light dispelled the darkness; The darkness ran from you, afraid. You lifted me up and encouraged me with your sapphire gaze. Courage you gave to me, and hope. Then you were gone, but your courage stayed with me And I was no longer afraid.

Gollum

Torn and twisted;
Your evil self rips you away From dawn of hope and light of day.
Beyond all hope, Your better self is filled with hate. For you, redemption comes too late.
You've made your choice; Smeagol was briefly in command, But Gollum snatched the upper hand.
Hate spurs you on; Obsession drives to Cracks of Doom, To perish there in sulf'rous gloom.
I'm not sure what I think about that sulf'rous gloom. :) Any suggestions?

Cold Winter Sun

Cold winter sun,
Withholding your heat, Chilly pale rays Frosting my feet.
You are unlike The soft sun of spring That brings the birds To nest and sing.
You are unlike The warm summer sun That smiles down on heated fun.
You are unlike The bright sun of fall, Blushing the leaves On branches tall.
Cold winter sun, Withholding your heat, Chilly pale rays Frosting my feet.

Change

Change...
Bright leaves of Fall Flutter and sway, Enchanting my eyes, But they will all Fall down to the ground next day.
Change... Cold Winter snow Chilling my bones But soon it will melt. Away it will go, And leave sodden earth and wet stones.
Change... Tender Spring flowers, Scent of of soft rain, Delicate beauty, Gentle showers. Next day, I'll seek you in vain.
Change... Summer of heat; Drowsy long days, Chirp of cicadas. Memories sweet, But not a single one stays.
Change... Seasons whirl 'round, Changing of leaves, Greening of grass, Freezing of ground, Stolen by next season's thieves.
Change... Seasons of men, Youth and old age Walk hand-in-hand. Sweet birth, and then Death's hand writes the final page.
Change...