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YavannaIn Valimar, on hilltop fair
I dance on lawns of ageless green.
In pasture, field and whither there,
be blossom bright and eagle keen
I find my power and delight:
a Queen I am of all that grows.
Green as beech and summer-bright
the living robe that from me flows.
Sown and raised by my own hand
the shining Trees have given light:
great lamps we hold above the land
by Aulë's craft and Varda's might.
By Elves I am the Mother Earth
for from me, all woods came to birth.
Sulimo and TintalleThe greatest of the Aratar;
the kingly Lord of Valimar
sits upon a snow-white throne
carven from the palest stone,
beside the dark-haired Valië
whose eyes are winter starlight grey
and shine with knowledge of the night
and darkness, which she put to flight
with Valacirca; Melkor's ruin,
with Carnil, Luinil, bright Wilwarin.
Highest of all on Eä they are:
the King beside the Queen sees far
and she with him hears far beyond
the Blessed Realm, from Aglarond
to Neldoreth her mind is cast
to broken Angband where, held fast
the Dark Lord Melkor, bound with chains
of Aulë's craft still there remains.
Manwë, the King with silver crown
will rule till time comes falling down
and at his side the Queen will be;
the star-smith Elentári.
UndomielThe world has changed forever, the trees come without leaf;
the starless skies fade high above in endless wasting grief.
In gardens of grey she dwells now, in Lórien once bright,
but all who lived beneath the trees have passed to the Twilight.
Across the Western sea to the land that never dies:
her people took the Haven road but in Dwimordene she lies.
In love she found her hope, but now her hope is waning;
the loneliness of mortal life brings heartache never-fading.
When all is gone and silent and she has wandered far,
upon the earth she takes to rest and so dies Evenstar.
Lady of the SeaFor all I dwell beneath the sea
I know the hearts of men and Elves,
from north to south in starlit Ea
I lie upon the ocean swell.
In times of need to me they call
to save them from the howling storm;
from wave and from destructive squall
sent by my mate, in ire born.
Nymph some call me; siren too,
but Maian I was born and though
the storm in me beats loud and true
I hark to none but great Ulmo.
When Morgoth's call is hard to fight
a check I am to Ossë's might.
The WeaverWritten by her silver loom
are all the ages of the world
in ever hall and every room
her tapestries, like flags unfurled.
She, the Weaver of the West,
Queen of Fate and spouse of Death,
plots the pathways with her weft;
each footstep, heartbeat, thought and breath.
Vairë of the Valar bright,
she charts the course of each new life.
As each new heart begins the fight,
still no one can avoid her knife.
As first she spins, so then she ties:
the ages of the world, she knows.
And all of time 'cross her gaze flies,
to gild the fair walls of Mandos.
Lady of the Lasting Loom,
until the end will she weave on.
In her webs are writ the dooms
of Arda, and the Firstborn ones.
The self-cursed have regained the world;
the tapestries are changing shape.
No longer will the Elves have word
in great events of war and state.
No longer will they walk the paths
of Lórien, of Mirkwood grim:
their shadows fade from Arda's tracks
and Twilight's flame forever dims.
They sail across the Western Sea
Tulkas and NessaAs Nahar races with the wind,
upon his back rides Oromë.
Yet steedless goes his female kin;
as bright and cherished as the day
the godly huntress and her train
of hind and hawk and untamed mare,
as they run wild through hill and plain.
To chase her, only I would dare.
No darkness comes where I am found,
no evil dares approach Astaldo
but fire, light and strength abound
wherever I in Earth should go.
Of Nessa not a lot is said
so I will seek to amend that:
fleetfooted is her soundless tread,
as silent as a hunting cat.
She is the passion of the sun
that spears like gold through forest glen,
and all the creatures with her run
but none can match her, even then
when Eä was young and few good folk
would ventures forth from Valimar.
Oblivious to fearful talk -
or maybe fearless, as they are,
those Valar queens, so brave and bold
and full of Eru's majesty.
Despite the dread of ages old
my Nessa still went proud and free.
As russet bronze her hair in flight
caught in the wind about h
The DownfallenCan you see the ships? There
beleaguered in the doldrums of the night
so white, so blue, so lost
staring down the thousand yards
look up, stare back, draw from
the light that stops all hearts
falls and spears like stars,
so can you hear the call, the cry
from out there in the endless, wayless sky?
Step out on the water, lift your arms
and touch with hands and feet those
Slam into the night-time splendour
of those great deceitful waters -
reach for the illusions of the stars
but stumble at the last,
there are no stars where
human hands may grasp,
may clutch and so defile
may drag onto their ships
like mermaids, hauled onto the land
to wither, dying all the while
you hunt for more, you demand more
and so your ever-dreaming
reaching hands fall short,
and fall so very far.
Dream-KeeperShe's the only one who knows
the paths across the trackless sky:
the lake of stars whereon her toes
skimming the surface lightly fly.
The midnight hopscotch is her game,
her playground the star-fields and moons
that shine like a necklace of diamond flames
as she dances to her own hidden tunes.
Far below her the worlds slumber on
half lit by a hundred-score suns.
The others to darkness and dreaming belong
and here the adventure is barely begun.
She tiptoes above them, a princess of stars
to wander and float through their dreams,
and when they awake in the new morning hours
her face in their memory gleams.
She is the keeper of all that they see
when the world is closed off from their gaze,
when their minds and their spirits are roaming round free
she lives in that cerebral haze.
A garden she has in the meadows of heaven,
the long grasses silvery in the moonlight;
bordered by trees with leaves fir and feather
and cluttered with poppies that glow in the night
blood-red and soft white, they
the lost daysWe, who fell so far
into the world's embrace,
and bore with smiles our greatest joy
of trembling laughter, season's end
and earthly wakenings...
of light and sound undone.
We, the voiceless, sing.
And in our nervous voices,
brought to life by our awareness
of the days that never fade
of the years we'll always know,
though they're nothing more than bones,
alive in memories, here with us,
and in our song, the stars awoke.
You were in the choir of days,
as like to summer as the blue
of earth's clear veil and laughter's eyes
and a world, of times gone by
that live no longer, that poor world,
that fair green earth,
in which we lived and died.
The Passing of ArwenThe water rippled silver
The trees all shone with gold.
White elanor was blooming
In Lothlórien of old.
Elvish voices laughing
Silver music in the air.
But I hear now only silence
In Lothlórien the fair.
The mallorn leaves have fallen
Where once the flowers grew.
Time has touched the forest
Gone Lothlórien I knew.
Tear-stained face and empty fingers
As cold as stars above.
Memories, only memories
In Lothlórien, I loved.
No singing; naught but echoes
In the groves where phantoms tread.
Like the trees, the Elfstone faded
My Lothlórien is dead.
But they say beyond this world
Grief and darkness, light dispels.
With the spring, I pass forever
Boromir's Farewell - purgatori
there he lay upon the ground
last emblem of Gondor
arrows speared through his flesh
that glows a pale grey
the horn shall never again
his sword stained with victory
lays over his defeat
the woods mourn the loss
as his spirit is carried away
proud man of Gondor
the everlasting warrior
:Trust:Trust is the glass wall.
Some smudge it, others crack it,
some, shatter it completely...
Broken by red hands.
Pieces are lost, glittering in
Some are found,
but still, the wall cannot be complete
SmileShe only wished to see the light of day.
She only wished the pain would go away.
She sat in the darkness,
the evil in which she resides.
The innocence lost.
The tears she cannot hide.
The smile which refuses to show.
The happiness she cannot hold.
The hope the slips through her grasp.
The boy who grabs it at last.
The light that shines through.
The kindness that makes her heart anew.
The shattered dreams are here to stay.
The smile comes back, here to last.
Lament for the White Tree.
Sign of kings and Numenor's power,
Born from Celeborn's white flower,
Nimloth fair, tall did you grow,
But in Ar-Pharazon you found a foe.
Oh, Nimloth fair, blessed Tree,
The axe did fall, thrice times three,
Nimloth, who Yavanna adored,
Fell to blow from axe and sword.
Yet praises be to Elendil tall,
Who took, before Numenor's fall,
Nimloth's child, small and fair,
In Minas Ithil it blossomed there.
Though thrice it died, to plague or war,
Thrice the king a sapling saw.
Nimloth! Nimloth! Your name is fair,
Your children live whilst kings take air.
But now that time is gone and dead.
No king to lead the country's head.
Nimloth now has no heir,
Gondor has no king to care.
In the Steward's courtyard bright,
The last White Tree, no longer white,
Waiting for the king to come,
There are no Ages of the Sun.
The line of Numenor is gone,
Of those old kings there is not one.
Nimloth bright, you wait in vain,
The kings will not come again!
Ai, Nimloth! Fairer than Tinuviel,
In Numenor once you f
A GiftMy memory I considered a gift,
But nightmares soon proved I was wrong.
Visions of past and future might-bees
Penetrated my sleep before long.
Haunted by life and regrets of lost deeds
There is nothing I can leave behind.
O, power and glory, forever I sing,
Of a curse, yet a greatness of mind!
Being with youIt could be better.
Maybe I could be taller or stronger
but you don't care.
I could be handsome and nicer
but you don't care.
You just love what I am.
You just love what I have.
I never thought somebody like you would love me.
I'm that simple, that silly.
I thought I'd be the last you'd look at.
I thought I didn't deserve you dreamed of me like that.
I'm just a crazy lonely man.
Maybe you're crazier, maybe you're blind.
No, my sweetheart, I'm not wrong.
When I say you're the most beautiful,
I don't lie.
I think all of you is perfect.
I think your eyes can see my soul
and your lips can make a poem just calling my name.
Your hair can dance
and your smile can heal my heart.
You already know what I'm gonna say.
You know the colour of my thoughts.
You know my past, you know my goals.
You know my fears.
You know my love, my dreams, my faults.
You paint my life wiht your kisses.
You draw a landscape on my chest
everytime you stroke my feelings,
everytime you touch my cheeks.
You have me in yo
Lay of the Grey Pilgrimone Tuesday morn upon Bag End,
much to our Bilbo's chagrin,
Grey Pilgrim called; the door was mauled.
so do burgling careers begin.
three trolls turned to stone mid-fight
held four-teen sacked and in dread plight;
but vagrant choice from Greyhame's voice
unsacked them all and lead their flight.
of the white stones that mark the trail
to Elrond's stead, fair Rivendell:
Mithrandir's mind, it did divine
where dwarves and burglars did fail.
set upon by goblin hosts
with baggage gone and ponies lost,
Stormcrow took wing bearing Glamdring
and saved the day with ne'er a boast.
with fire, goblins and wargs impede
fifteen poor birds in five fir trees.
Gandalf, with sparks, raised howls and barks;
and so by eagles birds were freed.
ElberethWalking through the lea of gold
I saw the pale queen rise.
I felt the starlight on my skin
as she sailed through the skies.
In her train came others;
a billion points of light,
but none were there as lovely
as the glowing Queen of Night.
And glancing at the countenance
of Varda, Elbereth,
I lost my way and found myself;
my path, I did forget.
Like twilight's child Tinúviel
the star did catch and flee,
and in this darkened meadow
I was left, alone with me.
Bereth vanui, my star has gone:
where are you now, Gilthoniel?
No longer does your light shine down;
where do you go, tar-míriel?
In that far land b'yond Belegaer,
she dwells on matchless mountain high
Yet when the sun is dead and gone
she reigns supreme across the sky.
You Were Not An Aquarium BoySea-glass became your bones,
brine your blood, and seashells
melded into your skin.
You were not quite an ocean
when you said "This is your sign to love me."
My body was like a building;
tall, cold, almost unbreakable.
I was metallic and sharp,
towering over your waters.
I remember taking your hand in mine,
conch and coral shells scrubbing
my skyscraper wrists, and laughing
about how one day you would
submerge every last bit of me.
Your lips, riddled with argonauts,
found my cheek and I cringed
at the coarseness.
You asked if they bothered me
and I finally told you "I
think I love you."
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