The Ride of Oromë

The stars were young upon the heaven's dome
and darkness dwelt under the shade of trees
and in the darkness evil creatures roamed,
when a horn sounded clear and pure in breeze.

Like thunder rode there Béma on his steed
and Nahar's mane shone bright with silver light:
glistening dream, the music of his feet,
before them fled the creatures of the night.

Now hoofbeats silenced, Béma rides no more
in Middle-earth under the rays of Sun,
but Nahar's children still stay on this shore
and on the grass of Rohan freely run.

The lords of horses, Mearas free and strong,
the steeds of kings that came out of a song.

For the B2MeM prompts:
O68: Oromë: ... makes the horses of Rhovanion (Powers of the World)
O67: sonnet (Poetic forms)
B10: history through songs (Forth Eorlingas!)
B10: Nothlir (family line (esp. as family tree, genealogical tree) (Quenya and Sindarin) - if family lines of horses count as well :D

(Béma was the name used for Oromë by the Rohirrim)

Shadows of Nan Elmoth

The White Tree

Sleeping...
The lineage of old
Dreaming...
Embraced in soil.

The seed in soil
The secret in heart
Hiding a tender
silver leaf curled

Hiding and waiting:
Through a Dark age
will rise a light:
Nimloth's lineage

Sleeping...
The lineage of old
Dreaming...
Embraced in soil.

The ancient lineage
of Elendil through
darkness will emerge
with the heart true

Broken sword renewed;
In field of stone
I wake to new life
Forgotten, lone

Sleeping...
The lineage of old
Dreaming...
Embraced in soil.

I stretch to the Sun:
In the cold snow
it's rays will give me
the strength to grow

Till the time comes:
"Yé! utúvienyes!"

(reuploaded into the collection)

Eagles of Manwë

From the thought of Manwë and from the free sky
Song of soaring heavenly space far and high
Eagles were born, majestic wings and free cry
Star shining brightly

Nests in clouds and all-seeing eyes that can pierce
Shrouds of shadow, attack it with talons fierce
Eagles' song sounds, knowing no darkness and fears
Thorondor mighty

World is reshaped, cry of the eagles still sounds
Mountaintops white - Gwaihir Windlord there soars
Did not forget Manwë the sorrows and tears
Middle-earth's Children

I tried to write a poem about the Great Eagles, created by J.R.R.Tolkien in a sapphic verse. (Quite difficult form for me in English)

B2MeM prompts:
O64: sapphic (poetic forms)
N32: Rare characters (Landroval) - the topic of the poem was inspired by this prompt, although I didn't manage to include him...

Rochallor

Like blue ice a flame

in darkness shone desperate

Horse returned alone

On green grass faithful steed died

heart-broken mourning his lord

The 1st poem for NaPoWriMo, and for the B2MeM prompts:

O70: tanka (poetic forms)
O70: Rochallor, Warhorse of Fingolfin (All Creatures, Foul and Fair)
B13: Ringil (Fingolfin's sword, which glittered like blue ice) (Artifacts and Weapons)

Éala Éarendel

Sleep, my child...
Close your eyes under the blanket of night
A little longer
A little more time
Until you know how unfair the fate has been to you
Until you know what time you have been born into

Sleep, my child...
In sweet ignorance of dreams
Just for a while longer you can be
Like the Lords of the West who do not care
For you, for us
For your unfair fate

Sleep, my child,
And please...
Do not be angry at me
For bringing you into this dark world
Where hope is far and future dimmed
By the black wings of smoke
From Thangorodrim

-o-

Look, my child!
A new star is rising!
Sailing on the waves of sky
Gil-Estel
A holy flame
A spark to ignite new hope for tomorrow

They did not forget...

Éala Éarendel engla beorhtast
Ofer middangeard monnum sended!

Éala Éarendel engla beorhtast Ofer middangeard monnum sended! - "Hail Earendel, brightest of angels, over Middle-earth to men sent!"
- the lines in the Crist written by Cynewulf which can be taken as the inspiration not only for the role of Eärendil in Tolkien's work, but also for the term Middle-earth

The 2nd poem for NaPoWriMo and for the B2MeM propts:

B13: Free verse (Poetic forms)
G59: Hope (Emotions)
B13: "And they looked up and saw a star..." -The First Noel (Here We Come A-Caroling)

Heavenly Dance

Anor
Arien's flame
in bright glory rises
blind towards all but her duty
cold Sun

Ithil
Tilion's love
pursues her through darkness
the lunatic devotion of
full Moon

Two cinquains about Arien and Tilion.
The 3rd poem for NaPoWriMo and for the B2MeM prompts:

G59: Cinquain (Poetic forms)
G59: The Land of the Sun (Off the Map's Edge)

Music of Ainur

Create and sing!

Your mind has wings from Music wrought

In an eye's blink to being brought in Timeless Hall

What you can think to the last dot, that I will call to make a world

                   The horse's trott, the fir-trees tall, the heat and cold

                                         The creatures small, and big and bold

                                                                         Just as I've told:

                                                                                          Eä! Be!

The 5th poem for NaPoWriMo (The 4th is in Slovak)

This is an experiment with form - as you can see, I like rhymes =)

The rhyming scheme is

a
a b
a b c
a b c d
   b c d
      c d
         d

with every rhyme containing of 4 syllables.

Caves of the Forgotten

Now sing the song of dreamers under stone
In Caves of Damned forever they will sleep
And wander ever in their dreams alone

Now sing the song of dreamers under stone
In place forgotten where Sun never shone
There Ar-Pharazôn landed with his fleet

Now sing the song of dreamers under stone
In Caves of Damned forever they will sleep

The 8th poem for NaPoWriMo (No. 6 and 7 are in Slovak), a triolet.

The Caves of the Forgotten is a place in Aman where Ar-Pharazôn and his army are imprisoned. It is here that they remain until the end of the world when they are prophesized to arise during the Last Battle, Dagor Dagorath.

Gondor

Glory of past, memories
Oaths of faithfulness
Now arrived the hour of
e
e
Dark is the path the dead guard
Out of danger will
Rise the long lost kingly line

The 9th poem for NaPoWriMo, an acrostic haiku

Halls of Mandos

Stories hung upon the walls
Every thread a single fate
Whom Mandos to his halls calls
Must pass through the iron gate

Every thread a single fate
woven into tapestries
Must pass through the iron gate
Who has died in shade of trees

Woven into tapestries
All the stories big and small
Who has died in shade of trees
Will see them hung on the wall

All the stories big and small
Written by the hand of time
Will see them hung on the wall
Stories of love, courage, crime

Written by the hand of time
Fate of every Man or Elf
Stories of love, courage, crime
Each of them can find himself

Fate of every Man or Elf
Whom Mandos to his halls calls
Each of them can find himself
Stories hung upon the walls

The 16th poem for NaPoWriMo, a pantoum (I like this form, it's twice as much poem for the same price =))

I paint your face in my mind

I paint your face in my mind
On the canvas of my dreams
A picture of hearts entwined

When to duty I'm confined
Loneliness louder than screams
I paint your face in my mind

I see your eyes - loving, kind
Beauty that from the soul streams
A picture of hearts entwined

That's where I can new strength find
When yoke of fate so hard seems
I paint your face in my mind

When the resolve stays behind
It is the love that redeems
A picture of hearts entwined

Even if I would go blind
In the darkness your light gleams
I paint your face in my mind
A picture of hearts entwined

Aragorn's profession of his love to Arwen, and what it means to him.
A villanelle, written for the Teitho topic "Stories and Pictures"

Yavanna's lullaby

Beloved children, you must sleep
In a sleep dreamless and deep
The black night fell
Like evil spell,
But you will your strength keep

Darkness spread over the land
The Lamps that fell we cannot mend
With poisoned sting
Now Arda's Spring
Has ended, its time spent

Close your eyes and do not fear
To my heart you are most dear
When you wake
The night will break
Sky again will be clear

Rest under the wings of night
So you can wake in new light
Waiting seed
A tree or weed
When land again is bright

24th poem for NaPoWriMo

Through long ages the Valar dwelt in bliss in the light of the Trees beyond. The Mountains of Aman, but all Middle-earth lay in a twilight under the stars. While the Lamps had shone, growth began there which now was checked, because all was again dark. But already the oldest living things had arisen: in the seas the great weeds, and on earth the shadow of great trees; and in the valleys of the night-clad hills there were dark creatures old and strong. To those lands and forests the Valar seldom came, save only Yavanna and Oromë; and Yavanna would walk there in the shadows, grieving because the growth and promise of the Spring of Arda was stayed. And she set a sleep upon many things that had arisen in the Spring, so that they should not age, but should wait for a time of awakening that yet should be.

- J. R. R. Tolkien, Silmarillion

The Last Mallorn

-o-

I saw

A tree stood alone

For him the wind played a song

I know

Wide is its crown

Its roots through centuries strong

-o-

I saw

A trunk proud and tall

Like temple-pillars of old

I know

The leaves that don't fall

But turn to purest of gold

-o-

I saw

The sprouting young leaves

Like gems of green light in spring

I know

And then my heart bleeds

A dirge is the song that I sing

-o-

I saw

The last Elven tree

Upon this darkened grey shore

I know

Over the wide Sea

They're gone to return no more...

(reuploaded into the collection)

The Ride of Rohirrim

The beacons lit
The oath gives speed
Horses and riders tall
The sparkling shield
On bloody field
We answer Gondor's call!

Kisses to wives
The last goodbyes
Who returns, we don't know
This is the day
When we can't stay
The King calls, we follow

The sea of spears
The sun sheds tears
Eorlingas ride to war
To the red day
To glory, fame
In the ancestors' hall! 

The Song of Aragorn and Arwen

He:

Among the songs of waterfalls

in a valley green and fair

I sang the song of Lúthien

and spring was in the air.

She:

Among the birches’ silver trunks

I heard your silent song.

And I saw youth and innocence…

…and I felt something strong.

He:

In that moment I lost my heart:

forever it will dwell

enchanted in your tender palm

in spring in Rivendell.

She:

The wind sang in the mallorn leaves:

each blade a small green gem.

I found no peace with summer breeze

in dreamy Lórien.

He:

From distant lands under strange stars

I came weary, my feet sore.

I sought only rest from the war –

- and I found so much more…

She:

You came to me like an elven king,

a white gem upon your brow.

And what I saw was a noble man.

And what I felt… was love.

He:

Autumn has come to Rivendell,

the leaves will die and fall.

And I must go: to victory,

or to the end of all.

She:

I watch you leave: as strong and wise

as a mighty king of Men.

And behind darkness, winter’s chill

I hope we meet again.

He:

The path is dark, the shadow grows,

on the edge of hope I stand.

But I don’t fear, because my heart

lies safely in your hand.

She:

The river sings about the Sea,

but I stay on this shore.

For, without you, there is no joy

for me in Valinor.

He:

My Evenstar, you are my light

when darkness spreads its wing.

And after winter cold and bleak

I still have hope for spring.

She:

Like in the woods of Doriath

the spring will come again.

You are my Beren, you’re my love,

and I’m your Lúthien.

Beren walked lonely in the woods of Doriath for the whole winter, until Lúthien returned with the spring. Now Middle-earth is falling into darkness and winter again - but there is love that reaches through it with hope. A poem for Teitho: Elven Realms (reuploaded into the collection)

Herblore

(Written by a bard of Rohan, inspired by Merriadoc Brandybuck's talks with king Théoden)

-o-

In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit,

Gardener thoughtful, in the ground digging,

from sunny Longbottom in the Southfarthing

Called Tobold Hornblower, to Bree he travelled,

Wondered what plants grow there, wanted to see them

Interesting herbs he saw growing up on the hill

Small seeds carried with him back to Southfarthing

Planted them in his garden, from pests protected

With harvest plentiful was he rewarded

Leaves he lay in the sun, left them to dry there

Thinking to make a tea, then try and taste it

But as he brought the leaves to kettle boiling

Some of them slipped on the coals smoldering

As Tobold smelled the smoke, he smiled broadly

Better than boiling them were the leaves burning

He pondered it and fashioned a pipe from prune wood

So he could smoke the leaves, sweet and refreshing

Pipe-weed he called the plant, plenty he planted

Since then the Hobbits hold in high esteem

The art of smoking, by Old Toby discovered.

-o-

A/N: Written for this task of Tolkien Mailing Competition (TLV by the Hungarian acronym):

Topic: a story set in The Shire, starring any known or unknown hobbit character;

Form: serious style, alliterative verse (I know that has a lot of other rules but here all what is expected is to have at least two or three alliterating word in every line).

“Anyway by mid-winter Gandalf and Bilbo had come all the way back, along both edges of the Forest, to the doors of Beorn's house; and there for a while they both stayed. Yule-tide was warm and merry there; and men came from far and wide to feast at Beorn's bidding." (J.R.R. Tolkien: The Hobbit)

For the 3rd round of this year's Tolkien mailing competition, one of the tasks was:

Write and record a Yule-song that could have been heard at Beorn’s place

Sorry I post it so late after Christmas, when it would be more appropriate, I had to wait for the results of the round before posting it. It is sung with the melody of "Jingle Bells", and I will not give you the recording, because my singing is terrible, so here is just the text.

Westu Théoden hál

Wind blew cold in the horse's mane
East ran the horses through the plain
Stalwart rode there a faithful king
Through shadow of a dreadful wing
Unafraid when blood fell like rain

Through a dark morning without dawn
He led his riders, now they're gone
Eorl's sons in their helmets tall
Oath bound them to heed Gondor's call
Dark was the morning, red the day
Ere evening came, the king dead lay
Now to the bright halls leads his way

Hail Théoden, o mighty king
A song of glory as swords ring
Let now the riders sing!

Orc and Spring

Stupid flowers, stupid smells

„Go hunt Hobbits!” Sauron yells

What am I, a stupid bee?

I’ve got pollen allergy!

Awakening of Hope

(The fathers of Men meet Finrod Felagund)

The night swooped down on dark wings of cold dread
with nightmares circling the flames - the faint light
can't chase away the memories and fright
that lurk in mind and in lands that we fled.

Towards the sunset our journey led,
but within us we still carried the night
and to the past we don't turn our sight,
but don't dare to hope for future ahead.

Suddenly nightmare turned to pleasant dream
of distant land with shores from pure white sand
as waves of song carry us like clear stream
and strings of harp are touched by gentle hand.

And when dawn blushes with the first sunbeam
with hope in heart facing the west we stand.

(A sonnet written for Blackwell's Bookshop Middle-earth poetry contest)

Gandalf limerick

There was a wizard titled Grey,
with his party he wouldn't stay.
Soloed boss fight:
"Now call me White,
how I leveled up, I won't say."