Weep
For those seeking the Havens,
For the land will be barren of much that was fair.

Another 'musical' one, this time for the Grey Havens and if I were a writer of music I would perhaps place it to an Irish tune with a lilt for the sea.

The Havens
( There’s a waiting ship )

The Shire has flowered after the war.
Like waking from a dream...
Coming back to what is familiar

The shock of peacetime after the shock of war, how can the pieces of the old life be picked up again?

Falling Asleep Again
( Coming home in a windswept night )

We should not be here, Pip.

Merry's heart-wrenching inquiry to Pippin when he finds him in the war-torn streets, they were both so terribly beyond anything they were intended for. This originally was carefully formatted, I've had to make do with dashes here on LJ and hope they aren't too distracting.

Burial
( Are you going to bury me? )

All shadows fade eventually, don't they?

This is a longer prose-styled work, one of my first Tolkien poems and still one of my favorites. Pippin, so far from his home and in such a foreign land, waits for Gandalf in the room at Minas Tirith and looks out over the darkened, war-torn stone city.

Pippin in Gondor
( How lonely is the sound of this city at night )

Bless true friends who will not let another go into the night alone.

Conspiracy
( These are the ones you'll remember, )

Because short people should stick together.

( Peregrin: I'm Coming Too )

A sweet little verse formThe rondelet is French in origin, a short poem of a single septet (that is, 7 lines long), with only two rhymes, and one refrain, which is repeated. The result is, I think, very like flower petals working their way around a flower, small and soft but with a grace and closure I find lacking in some other short forms, such ( Read more... )

Easy to read but fiendishly difficult to write. I know of what I speak - this form is very arguably the most difficult poetic form I've attempted so far. A small number of these are 'not quite pure' double-dactyls taking license with syllable count rather than properly multisyllabic singular words ( Read more... )

I am contemplating the veritable mountain of poetry I have, trying to decide how best to present the portions worth presenting. Haiku is a bit like potato chips, really, tiny bites that can either be savored or crunched down quickly according to mood.

( A pile of Tolkien-themed haiku )

A/N: The drabbling continues! These are a few of the lighter ones I've come across in my digging through my archives. Some of these I really *can't* explain - I'm not even sure there could be a rational explanation for them, they're just cracky.

( Gollums )