written_leaves: (booktower)
Caged by men, to foe unfearing
The bars give way with courage nearing
In lines of steel her fair face tearing
Sharp, bright-edged Eowyn

An adaptation of Tennyson's Lady of Shallot for Eowyn's story, the idea was started by someone else but caught my fancy so I ran with it. I remember spending the better part of a long Thanksgiving weekend trip with a notebook in hand struggling to work this through - and yes, it's just as long. For what it's worth, I've had a couple people tell me they preferred it to the original, which was a fine compliment indeed.

The Lady Eowyn
In hall of stone above the plains )
written_leaves: (writing)
Farewell dear Love, it's bittersweet...
One last look at the barren, cold grass,
The white-starred elanor long departed

Two more from the Appendices, as an aged Aragorn chooses the ending of his days and says farewell to his Queen, who then seeks an ending of her own, in her own way. The first is written in couplets, the second in a free prose that gives an overview of their lives together.

At the ending of all my days )
Falling Leaves
In an unending springtime she pledged her troth )
written_leaves: (booktower)
Though few can understand how we complete one another;
And they stare at us in wonder as we walk the city streets

One of those ultimate friendships in literature, the bond that grew between this most unlikely pair.

Two Such Friends
we are lessened when we are apart )
written_leaves: (booktower)
"Walk with me." He says, and I do.
Inside my heart I look askance at myself.
What of my own people? My own ambitions?
Yet... I want to walk in the garden with him,
To walk and wander and to have it never end.

An interlude among the war and darkness - this set has the same event from two different viewpoints and styles. The first is Eowyn's, and is a thoughtful, poetic prose style with longer flowing lines. The second is Faramir's and has been set to a more tightly patterned rhyming form with the intent of a military feel. The companion piece for this set would be Ithilien Sunset.

Strange Comfort (Eowyn in the Garden)
There is little green or open in this city of stone )
Faramir in the Garden
More open lands you love, perhaps )
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)
No doubts to touch their hearts, no fear however small
That you would ever lead them astray, no question
Ever shadowing their hearts to wonder at your honor.

A homage to Faramir and like The Red Book this is in the form of a sestina, where key words are shuffled and re-used in different order at the ending of each line in each stanza.

Sestina for Faramir
Though youthful for a Captain )
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: (Default)
Yet for all your wisdom, you did not see
That a wound cannot be filled with shadows

A pair for Denethor, who obviously was once a better leader than the unstable wreckage he was becoming by the time the narrative reaches him. The first addresses his pride and claim on the leadership, the other his clinging to it by choosing to use a poisoned tool as a source of 'wisdom'.

Lost beneath the banners and proud lineage )
Leader of ashes, Steward of secrets )
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)
Eowyn's despairing hidden love for what she could not have, and the final resolution of that hurt. With it I'm placing a character sketch of Grima, a strangely intimate look at the twisted relationship from Theoden's point of view.

Not for Thee
I'll numb my heart to set it free, drown in a blacker day )
Tell me again how the flames of this fire are sufficient light for old eyes...lest I awake )
written_leaves: (booktower)
Add one...add one... add one...

A rhopalic is a poetic form / word-play construct in which each succeeding word is one segment longer than the preceding one. It may be with increasing syllables, or (a bit more difficult) by adding one additional letter to each word as you go. In this sense, writing one feels to me more like carefully constructing a puzzle than flowing along with imagery as I usually do.

Merry: I by his dear grace... )
Merry: In planning honesty's conspiracy... )
Theoden: I, an age aged after deceit... )
Eomer: For Rohan, loyalty undivided... )
Thoeden & Eowyn: No battles; unheeded... )
written_leaves: (illumination)
The Ae Freislighe is an Irish syllabic stanza form, and this is an attempt to render one in English:


The Barrow Downs lie in the mist,
The wreathing wisps grasp the stones,
Call me now a pessimist
But this cold reminds of bones.

Long ago they fell beneath,
Dark the shades that crept within,
Heavy gold they shall bequeath,
Entrapping weight to stiffen.

Why did we stop, unthinking?
Now my plaintive cry resounds,
Answered only in clinking,
Far beneath the Barrow Downs.

With it I'm placing a trio in the form of a Burns Stanza, named for the pattern favored by the famous Robert Burns.

Not for Thee )
Eowyn Heals )
Grima's View )


written_leaves: (Default)

July 2012

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