Battle Cry

Dec. 23rd, 2009 11:14 am
written_leaves: (explosives)
Now here's a curiosity - I found this recently among my old school papers, having apparently written it back in 1983, my teen years, and then tucked carefully away - so carefully I forgot it. It's a bit over the top with the old-style romantic-era phrasing, a somewhat melodramatic youthful view of war, but I strangely like it. I was reading things like Tolkien, Dumas and Shakespeare at the time.

Battle Cry
Bitter wounds )
written_leaves: (booktower)
A challenge was given to describe something complex in words of only one syllable and no more - and still make sense and preferably rhyme! This poem on the battle of Helm's Deep was the result.

We Won
We had no hope, the foe was strong )
written_leaves: (writing)
The living mourn for the dead,
And are one day mourned in their own turn

A look at the loss and stories that will never be told in every life lost.

Untold Tales
Did they mourn for the death of their dreams )
written_leaves: (writing)
In such grieving as this is found wisdom,
And in wisdom you will find your strength.

A longer piece for Merry's being recalled from the darkness and grieving by Aragorn's skill.

Merry's Awakening
My heart has gone grey and still as death )


Dec. 20th, 2009 10:57 pm
written_leaves: (illumination)
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.

Are you going to bury me? )
written_leaves: (writing)
Great heart will
Be denied

A companion piece, of sorts, to Pippin in Gondor and one of my personal favorites.

MEFA First Place winner for 2008, Dramatic Poetry

Merry on the Pelennor Fields
A cold wind is rising )
written_leaves: (writing)
Chalice tipp'd, crushed lily-bud,
Spilling your gold among the blood,
To lay, a time unseeing.

For Eowyn, both her courageous stand over the dying Theoden and the war she fought in the heart.

Behold the honour of this house! )
Daughter of Kings
A winter-bourne lily, you were lovely but cold )


Dec. 20th, 2009 05:53 pm
written_leaves: (illumination)
You were made for one another,
The mount of a King

A poetic homage to Snowmane, his faithful service and the tragedy of his death and Theoden's.

Surely you were foaled for this very season )
written_leaves: (writing)
And guarding in the same blow.

Meanwhile, things were not going well over in Minas Tirith - one verse for the horrifying items catapulted in, one for my favorite brave Gondorian soldier who was dealing with his Lord's insanity. Beregond is interesting in that it is written as a layered piece, two poems in one.

these missiles that do not burn )
He burns - )
written_leaves: (writing)
The stone reaches its blackened roots into another time,
Holds the wound open
And remembers.

A consideration of the Stone of Erech, where Aragorn rallied the Dead.

This piece was a MEFA poetry finalist, 2004.

Erech Memorial
Every wounded sunset sees it face another black night )
written_leaves: (writing)
Evil counsel, sweeter than honey, came to you

A 'moral' poem comparing and contrasting Denethor and Theoden, a Steward and a King facing massive decisions and having to carefully choose whom they listen to.

Counsel of Lies
Two leaders of men in a time of dark war )
written_leaves: (writing)
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 )
written_leaves: (illumination)
Saddled and bridled
And gallant rode he;
Home came his brother.
But never came he

The first here has a horse-riding rhythm for Boromir's ill-fated journey, who would never come home again and whose father would never recover from the blow. The second mourns Osgiliath and its broken dome, the lost city by the river with its abandoned artistry and bridges.

One Son of Gondor
Out from the battle )
Dome of Stars
...extinguished lamp of Numenor’s desiring )
written_leaves: (writing)
I know you have a desire for death...
If you are weary,
Share our rest.

A shift in setting now, to that rather creepifying locale that must be crossed, an old water-filled battlefield with dead that do not quite die, from the viewpoint of one of its inhabitants.

The Dead Marshes
The foul reeds are my rushes, the silt my bed, the water, my shroud )


Dec. 18th, 2009 07:44 pm
written_leaves: (writing)
The land lies silent where once it heard singing

The story of Hollin / Eregion and its tragic downfall and scattering caught at my heart, but then, betrayal is such a powerful and terrible event. This is a longer poem, and darker.

Redder than the berries of their beloved holly trees, Their blood once ran )


written_leaves: (Default)

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