Sorrowing Nimrodel & Watching over Lorien
Dec. 18th, 2009 10:35 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
written_leavesWhere has the silver maiden gone?
I was taken with Legolas' sad tale of Nimrodel and the stream named for her, one of Tolkien's many 'tales within a tale' that give his storytelling such depth. This is a 'shaped'/concrete poem on a simple scale.
With it is a poem experimenting with a ABba stanza, honoring Haldir and the others who spent so much of their time guarding their pocket of peace from the wars that surrounded them - this one could use some editing, I think, but has some decent turns of phrase.
Sorrowing Nimrodel
Shadowed, the small waters of the Nimrodel,
Dimpled swirling, dappled with twilight
Falling in silver whispers. A mourning;
A rivulet of tears that never ceases.
Where has the silver maiden gone?
An aching spirit forsaken, gone
Deep into the Golden Wood,
Grieving among the trees.
Our only memory
Her voice,
Her tears,
Falling.
The silver woods whisper: sun and moon.
Clinging to their former glory throughout
Cold winter, slowly falling to join
Deep silent drifts of forgotten years.
The newly budding life pushes
Them away to fall to their fate.
Falling with the Nimrodel
The softly rustling dead.
Their memories,
In the gold
And silver
Falling.
-
Watching over Lorien
Standing your watch throughout the years
Under the boughs, beneath the leaves
The land will dream its peaceful dreams;
You'll guard to keep it free from fears.
The years slip by with little change
A pool of light fading so slow,
Past this wood's eternal glowing
You have no cause to ever range.
Should dark foes stray within your bounds
Unwitting of their being watched,
When trespass'd over boundary crossed -
You'll hunt them as relentless hounds.
Reach back for deadly weapons swift
And signal many silent flights
Of well-fletched arrows for the plight
Of broken peace and soiled rifts
Anathema that blood is shed
Beneath gold canopy so sweet
Where you would bear but peaceful feet,
Begrudging leaves crushed by the dead.
They shall not pass your standing guard
Nor touch mirror'd silver water
Whose broken voice of Elven daughter
Sings her sorrows with liquid shards
Your Lady's trust you've rightly earned
The boundaries of her forest realm,
Appointed captain at the helm,
Will not be swayed, will not be turned
They sought to overrun but feared
The tales they'd heard of nets of gold:
The way even their strong and bold
Entered that wood and disappeared.
So keep them wary, keep them low,
Make them shy away from seeking,
From ever in this woodland sneaking
After any Elf-friend or foe.
Into your hands, decision hangs
To take beyond the silent bounds
This one whose heart quietly pounds
Beneath great evil strung on chain.
Obedient to your Lady's thoughts,
You let him come, and gave him aid
This one a heavy price had paid
Before and will again, for naught.
A guard who opened up the gate
You let the fugitives find peace
Until the hunt should finally cease
Giving respect instead of hate.
May your shelters be well hidden,
May your arrows fly ever true
May hand and heart e'er be renewed;
Joy taken in what you're bidden.
-
I was taken with Legolas' sad tale of Nimrodel and the stream named for her, one of Tolkien's many 'tales within a tale' that give his storytelling such depth. This is a 'shaped'/concrete poem on a simple scale.
With it is a poem experimenting with a ABba stanza, honoring Haldir and the others who spent so much of their time guarding their pocket of peace from the wars that surrounded them - this one could use some editing, I think, but has some decent turns of phrase.
Sorrowing Nimrodel
Shadowed, the small waters of the Nimrodel,
Dimpled swirling, dappled with twilight
Falling in silver whispers. A mourning;
A rivulet of tears that never ceases.
Where has the silver maiden gone?
An aching spirit forsaken, gone
Deep into the Golden Wood,
Grieving among the trees.
Our only memory
Her voice,
Her tears,
Falling.
The silver woods whisper: sun and moon.
Clinging to their former glory throughout
Cold winter, slowly falling to join
Deep silent drifts of forgotten years.
The newly budding life pushes
Them away to fall to their fate.
Falling with the Nimrodel
The softly rustling dead.
Their memories,
In the gold
And silver
Falling.
-
Watching over Lorien
Standing your watch throughout the years
Under the boughs, beneath the leaves
The land will dream its peaceful dreams;
You'll guard to keep it free from fears.
The years slip by with little change
A pool of light fading so slow,
Past this wood's eternal glowing
You have no cause to ever range.
Should dark foes stray within your bounds
Unwitting of their being watched,
When trespass'd over boundary crossed -
You'll hunt them as relentless hounds.
Reach back for deadly weapons swift
And signal many silent flights
Of well-fletched arrows for the plight
Of broken peace and soiled rifts
Anathema that blood is shed
Beneath gold canopy so sweet
Where you would bear but peaceful feet,
Begrudging leaves crushed by the dead.
They shall not pass your standing guard
Nor touch mirror'd silver water
Whose broken voice of Elven daughter
Sings her sorrows with liquid shards
Your Lady's trust you've rightly earned
The boundaries of her forest realm,
Appointed captain at the helm,
Will not be swayed, will not be turned
They sought to overrun but feared
The tales they'd heard of nets of gold:
The way even their strong and bold
Entered that wood and disappeared.
So keep them wary, keep them low,
Make them shy away from seeking,
From ever in this woodland sneaking
After any Elf-friend or foe.
Into your hands, decision hangs
To take beyond the silent bounds
This one whose heart quietly pounds
Beneath great evil strung on chain.
Obedient to your Lady's thoughts,
You let him come, and gave him aid
This one a heavy price had paid
Before and will again, for naught.
A guard who opened up the gate
You let the fugitives find peace
Until the hunt should finally cease
Giving respect instead of hate.
May your shelters be well hidden,
May your arrows fly ever true
May hand and heart e'er be renewed;
Joy taken in what you're bidden.
-