Oh Leeeeelss come back please
We miss your encouragement so much and your kind words and opinion
Grondy would have wanted you to come back and keep PT alive.
Oh Leeeeelss come back please
We miss your encouragement so much and your kind words and opinion
Grondy would have wanted you to come back and keep PT alive.
After reading a bit of the first page in this thread, I came across a poem occasioned by gossiping friends, and promptly went to write my own, which is, ostensibly, occasioned by a similar theme, but after re-reading, seems more dark than that. Perhaps gossip is darker and worse towards its objects than we normally like to think when in the midst of gossiping to one another.
"it" throughout the poem does not refer to the gossip itself, but rather to the effect of the gossip on the mind, heart, and emotional state of the one being gossiped about. "Your voice" is not the gossipers' voice but again, the voiced response of the one being slandered.
The design is a verse containing a single 8-syllable line followed by an end-rhymed 7-syllable line, and then a repeating chorus of 12 syllables. If you think in terms of a song, the form is verse, chorus, verse, chorus, verse, bridge, verse, extended chorus, verse, verse, extended chorus. If you were going to sing it, it might be a heavy metal or very hard rock or, perhaps, alternative rock ballad. More yelled in rhythm than sung, until the very last line.
Cover – Cover - Cover it now;
Do your best, and smooth your brow.
No one knows, no one can see: No one but God - God, and me.
Contain – Contain - Contain it there -
Do your best, and do not share.
No one knows, no one can see. Oh God - Dear God: Why? Why Me?
Quiet – Quiet - Quiet your voice!
Do your best, you have no choice.
Quit it, Kill it, Quell it, Still it
Bury it here
Do your best, and don’t show fear.
No one knows, no one can see, no one but God: God, and me.
Years pass. Leaves fall. I can't forget. But I will not recall.
Hear it – Hear it – Hear it well-told;
Tell it best, and then unfold
Layers – Layers – Layers of scar
Heart knows best, and tears aren’t far.
No one knows, no one can see, no one but God: God, and me
Years pass. Leaves fall. I am finally starting to recall.
Hey there, Elanorraine, I haven't seen you around here before, but hereby, I welcome you to the realm of poets. And about your song, I didn't quite get all of that 'too professional' talk, but I somewhat liked a bit of that song. Though that certain repeating in the verses, I'm not so sure about that, and also the continuing use of word 'god' - made it sound like a gospel song. So, be in peace, and post more poetic stuff. - Oerath.
A little add to my last post: That was just my opinion, and since we're here to give feedback (and also to receive any feedback), and to post our own works - I somewhat feel that I must give you something more positive.
So, your song was well made (also lyrically), your explanation matched and it certainly followed the strict line of the mentioned verses and choruses. Even though I'm not a christian, I still wouldn't ever say anything offensive about that matter/religion, so I hope you didn't take me too seriously when I said that it sounded like a gospel song.
strange - although I do (now) think of the thing in terms of it being good news (not for me, but for someone else) - I was not trying to express gospel or redemption in the lyrics.
I suppose that is a compliment - someone once said of an author I admire "somehow, everything he thinks about everything comes out in anything he writes about anything" - if that is in some small way true of my writing, then I am pleased.
Perhaps the refrain (chorus) is too repetitious without music behind it. I'm never sure about such things as this.
Elanorraine, Welcome to our realm of poetry. It is a gift that has eluted me so I live vicariously through others.
I loved the rhythm of the repetitive verse. It is one of my favorite styles. Interestingly enough, your poem reminded me of those nights that my mind keeps obsessing over something that was said (could be recent or ages ago) and from which I struggle to find relief.
Thank-you for your contribution and I look forward to reading more of your creations.
Odette: Wow, you never cease to amaze me with your amazing gift. Your words are so well chosen that, I become lost in the visual images and smells; your pain and healing. It feels as if I am there.
Leelee, I have noticed your absence and share your pain in our loss. I have had a very difficult time dealing with Grondy's untimely passing and have found little heart for posting. He was very committed to Planet-Tolkien and an excellent moderator. Odette is right. Come back soon, dear Leelee.
Thank you Rednell for your kind words.I'm glad you like what I write...it's a perk
Elanorraine your poem or verse,reminds me of that song by Enya called Orinoco Flow,atleast the way she sings it.Very catchy and very profound.It also reminds me of incantations...like in Macbeth,but I'm so ignorant.I don't get much technical stuff since I'm a self-taught poet(striving),but I do like to learn new ways to better my work.So please tell us about poetry and poetry writing,whatever you know, and would like to share.Thank you for posting.This thread is really dear to me.
Oerath you have been very very silent.Looking forward to your next.
And Leelee I'm counting the days...(getting angrier)
Oh, Odette thinks I've been too silent (can't a writer have any break at all!?), well, for the sake of your words and for the fact that winter is already coming, and soon this autumn will be nothing, but a sweet memory of falling leaves and beautiful colors of nature. But that alone, is something very precious and good. Oh, I got lost in words, through this lyric, you shouldn't forget the meaning of nature, nor how beautiful the year has been so far, and remember; when the night falls, shortly after it you can see that whole nature is already sleeping. Hailed be The Mother Earth.
Whole Nature is Sleeping (Silent whispers, Flowing forest rivers)
Once again the sun is shining down upon us and every land and forest of this world
It’s gleaming and soothing light is like a song of awakening, a silent whisper in our ears
And as the sun has risen high up to the sky, down below we awake to the call of life
All of the rivers begin to flow, and as I look up to the sky, I can see the same old black crow
It’s the one from my dreams… Holding essences of lost time in it’s claws
While flying towards the rise of a new dawn.
I take my wandering staff, clothe my robe and begin to walk towards the grey shores
Many hidden reefs lies in depths of the ocean. And far in the horizon I can see many once forgotten and nameless lands, I can see the spirit of a sea maiden holding glowing lamp in her hands.
And as evening falls, I light a fire and play my old wooden flute, and so I play a song for the moon
I am sitting on sand and watching far away to the dark seas, it’s waves are carrying many kind of voices and whispers to my ears. Some of them I’ve heard in dreams of mine, dreams that seem to last for eternity, they’re like last remnants of a long fantasy.
And finally the morning sun rises from beyond the horizon
It’s time to wander to the forest, for this journey must go on
All of the trees awake to my call, all of the birds and other animals come to me when I sing.
Even the sky is clear and blue, sun is smiling at me from high above, and all of the forest rivers are flowing.
Silent whispers in the howling wind, only one could hear them and be one with the nature itself
Cry of an eagle echoes in the forest, and the mother earth is watching how her children are growing
Here I wander with the trees and animals of all kind, with folk of the woods walking by my side
We have to enjoy of the day before it ends, because when the night falls, shortly after it you can see.. Whole nature is already sleeping
‘One who chooses the path of the nature, will be granted wisdom and knowledge of the ancient guardians and will to keep watch upon all of the living creatures and mortals of this world.’
Written by: Otto ‘Oerath’ Timonen
Also, here's a little part taken from my upcoming story, which will be called: 'A Tower That Lies Within The Heart of Storm.' - this is just one little lyrical part of the actual story, but it's still good.
Spoken by Serannah:
Welcome to my home, the gallery of lies
This is the hall of emptiness and demise
I've a tongue of poison, I've a mind so dim and cruel
I'm the face of every mirror, I'm the serpent's truth
Oerath, for some reason that's very chilling, thinking of that short verse alone and without context; is the story equally as terrible?
The only thing I know about poetry is that the stricter the meter, the harder the sculpting - some metres are like clay and others like chipping away at granite. Also, meters are meant to be broken but not unless it's important.
And learning by example is good; I've been subscribing to http://www.daveysdailypoetry.org/
Heh, thank you Elanorraine, I've surely written some 'horrible' stories before, but I doubt that will be one of them, though the whole concept of the story itself is about snakes, in a mythical and powerful way, it will tell of a child, who was destined to be bitten by an ancient snake, and this snake had foreseen that this certain child (in this case, a girl) - would accidently find her way to the snake's hide-out, and in my myth, snakes are very powerful creatures, and it is rare to see a snake, 'cause they're always hiding underground, or in bottom of a lake or pond. Snakes are being kept as forbidden creatures, and one who gets bitten by them, will eventually gain magical powers and transformation abilities, and the snake who bites this person, will fuse with the person itself. So, the snake will become the heart of that person. And main character of this story, being Serannah, a ordinary fourteen year old girl, will eventually become a great sorceress, but the will of the snake cannot be denied, it will drive her towards a fate more darker, than any shadow of the world is, or will ever be.
hello my dear ones.
I have tiptoed in to this home of homes once or twice to catch up with your stunning works and there is little I can say except that they took me out of myself and transported me into new and awesome worlds.
Thank you very much.
I have a challenge for you all.
Let us pretend that you have never been thru middle-earth. Let us suppose that you woke up and could not quite remember where you had been before, and there were only shadows and fleeting moments of who and what and where you had dwelled previously upon the planet.
Now your attention is on Middle-earth and you begin to wander.
I would like to hear something of your very first impressions of the very first place you are in. Perhaps you awoke beside the base of the Misty Mountains, or on the edge of Lothlorien, perhaps you found yourself strolling through the wonders of Imladris.
tell me about it. Make my heart beat in time with yours.
Hey, Leelee, and I must say that I like of your idea, and I shall follow the instructions properly; so, I'll suffer from a strong amnesia, In the story itself, I've just awaken, and noticed that I'm somewhere in the deepest corners of Mirkwood, I just remember that my name is Oerath, and as I look at my own clothes, I come to an conclusion that I'm a wanderer, I also carry with me the following things: a fine dagger, wooden staff, a couple of handmade flutes and of course, an old pipe. So, may I assume that I'm a kind of wizard, who smokes pipe, handles both spells and close fighting, sings and also plays flutes. Who knows, but surely, Mirkwood is a little bit too dark place for me, and by The Lords of West - what has brought me to this gloomy and dark forest? Anyway, after I've fully recovered, and risen up, I suddenly remember a land called 'Mordor' and mountains called 'The Misty Mountains', but I'm not sure which one of them has a ringing sound to it, maybe I should go and ask a little from a local town, if there's just any around. And.. Rest of the story can be told in the actual story, which I'll write once I've enough time. But until then, see you, Leelee, and all of you others too!
And oh, be sure to read my newest works, they're nothing special, but I hope you'll enjoy of them.
(PS. I've bought myself train tickets, and I'll be off from this week's friday, which is 22th day of this month - until 30th or 31th day of this month. So, over a week of holidays. And I'm going to spend them wisely, since I'm going to a town called 'Keminmaa', and it also takes over 800 kilometres to get there, so that's why I'm using a train, basicly.
So, those of you who are enjoying of your holidays, you've my blessing, and remember to have fun! Explore, explore, write, write, sing, sing and drink x4!
This is a good idea Leelee.I was going to ask you to give us a challenge.Thanks will think of something and post when it's ready.
Alright.. Let us begin then; I've already entitled this work with the following words
'Oerath's journal : Strangely, all of the pages seem to be empty, and so is my memory'
Sentences or parts which are simply inside a pair of ' - are either words of the storyteller or speaking parts.
Part I : A dream of dreams, and awaking from such is surely a waste.
It is morning of a new day, all of the birds are singing, rivers are flowing so peacefully and silently. There's nothing to break the complete harmony of this moment.. Oh, wait a second, who's the person over there - lying on the green grass, is it.. me? Oh well, luckily this isn't a dream, ah, time to take a good turn to right.. sleepy, sleepy, here we go.. *snoring*..
But only a few moments later he awakes as a huge drip of water falls from the leaves of a tree, which is sadly enough tall and wide to cover his entire sleeping area, and by showing some signs of frustration and wrath, he cries it out clearly and loud: 'Damn it.. It was a dream after all!'
'Well, as it finally seems that the hero of our story is awake, should we tell a little about him, or tell him to do it by himself?'
Part II : I remember.. some things.. but not that much
And as he shakes his head and wonders what is going on, he suddenly notices something more important: 'Hey, this isn't the beautiful and peaceful forest full of green grass where I was in my dream. This is totally the opposite of it! It's so dark.. so gloomy, by the gods - what am I doing here? And by the way, what is my name?'
Four hours and twenty three minutes later.
'I cannot believe that I was taking a afternoon nap or either way, but it still doesn't make any bloody sense!' said the man to himself - 'But now I at least remember something. My name.. is Oerath, and as I took a careful look at my own clothes and equipments (and yes, I even checked my own face from the surface of that small pond, what about it!?) - I came to an conclusion that I'm a wanderer. And from my large back-bag, I found following items and artifacts: a fine elvish dagger, dragon shaped candle, a couple of handmade flutes, an old pipe, some tobacco to it, a small bottle of some weird drink that has a mark on it's side, which says: 'Finest Forest Spiritual Moonshine. Drink on your own responsibility.', a writing book, some pencils and last, but not the least - from lying on the ground, I found a nice hat and a long wooden staff. So - I'm Oerath, and I'm both a wanderer, and a wizard, and it seems that I can handle both close combat and spell casting, I think I can sing and play flutes, drink a lot, smoke pipe and write. What else? I don't know, but this is certainly a good start. I also recall to remember such names as: 'Mirkwood', 'Mordor', 'Lothlorien', 'The Misty Mountains', 'Silvershade' and 'Inn of Prancing Pony'.
I may just be guessing, but this dark forest must be called 'Mirkwood', there's no doubt of it.
Oh well, I'd better take my stuff and be going, and if or when I find my way out of this forest, I'll try to find a common road and that way I could just maybe find my way to a nearby town or village - if there's just any around, that is.
Part III : And so the journey of Oerath; a clueless wizard - finally begins.
'So, Oerath took his belongings and headed on. The forest of Mirkwood seemed to be darkening all the time, and he didn't want to stay for any longer. But minutes turned quickly to hours, and even seconds seemed to last for one great eternity, as he tried to make his way through all of the thick lines of bushes and trees, while occasionally stumbling into nasty roots and rocks.'
'And at some point, Oerath began to hear things. Voices and whispers of some kind, and for a while he even thought that was he losing his mind? Or was there something more to those disturbing voices. Sadly he didn't know the answer, so he had to go on and find it out.'
'And when he had walked for two hours straight on, he came to an open area. Wind waved gently all branches of the trees, and even sun shone a bit through the thick and grey sky, but it's brightness wasn't enough to penetrate through all of those dark clouds. And as he sat down on small stump of a tree, he finally felt some peace and serenity, but still, he couldn't stop thinking about one strange thing.. At some point of his journey, he had heard something, maybe silent footsteps, and the sound of them had come clearly from behind him. And back then he had thought it to be only the wind, but now it was quite obvious. Someone was following him. He didn't know what or who, but he just knew it.'
And as Oerath suddenly arose and reached out for his dagger, he yelled:
'Come out, whoever you are, I've noticed your presence!'
'And then only a moment later, a shadowy figure ran from behind the trees, with a kind of weapon in it's hands. Oerath couldn't see who or what it really was, because it was still so dark, but he was prepared for a battle. And then his enemy jumped to air, bringing it's two-handed weapon down at him. Luckily Oerath was quick, and he blocked the attack with his staff, and as a result of the attack, both of them fell back a bit, and the shadowy being almost lost it's balance. It's weapon also broke, 'cause Oerath had somehow hardened his staff, and now it was fairly stronger than finest mithril.
And smiling a bit at the clumsiness of his opponent, Oerath said: 'I don't know who you are, but I've no intent to fight you, for you see, I'm quite tired. I've just walked for over 7 hours, and I want to rest a bit.' So Oerath just sat down and began to smoke his pipe. And this seemed to relax his enemy greatly, and the shadowy figure finally spoke with soft voice of a female: 'So I was right after all. I was just merely testing your might, oh great one.' - now Oerath got quite confused and yelled: 'Who are you!? Step forth from the shadows, and show yourself.'
And so the shadowy figure stepped forth from the shadows, took off it's hood and to Oerath's surprise, it was a woman. And as she had bowed to Oerath, she said: 'Greetings, Oerath, The Elder of Woods. My name is Alyssa, and some people call me 'The Silvershade'.
Written by: Otto 'Oerath' Timonen
These were the first three parts, I hope you enjoyed of them. I'll write more when I return from my trip.
(PS. there may be some spelling mistakes - corrected!)
That was most entertaining, absorbing and I like that you fill our senses with what you are seeing and feeling and we get a nice glimpse of you. well done.
Join this glimmering start the rest of you. come, let us travel through this wondrous space together and learn and grow.
Many thanks, Leelee, I really enjoyed of the writing of those first three parts, and there'll be more. I've left enough works to half-way, it just happens at times, and when it does, I just need to get back to those works later on when both time and inspiration meets the requirements. Also as you may've noticed, I just love the style to take the role of a storyteller, and throughout the story, to comment about the main character or side/partial characters. It'll be a great help in my book writing once I'm able to get so far.
Next three chapters will contain more about Alyssa 'The Silvershade', and it will also reveal the source of those whispers and voices that Oerath heard, and a lot more. Also, as Oerath finds his way out of the forest, he and Alyssa will begin a very long and dangerous journey.
Oh lovely, I can scarce wait.
You would have made a sensational bard in the days when they were so revered even kings were afraid of them in case they should said a bad poem or story about the monarch. In fact many rulers gave huge and handsome gifts to these bards. Great job if you were qualified.
Oh thank you very much, Leelee, and yes, what you said is true. Poets were highly needed and respected in the times of old. And poets who succeeded to impress the monarchs and higher ups, were able to gain a lot of dignity, gold, and of course fame among the ladies. Like they sing in one of Mötley Crüe's songs; 'Girls, girls, girls!' - Here's a little poem, which I figured out some minutes ago.
Am I a king of good will and honor, or am I a king of chaos and fools?
Do I create my own laws and rules, or do I follow every single of my chancellor's petty instructions?
Is my court's beer and wine supplier elegant and does he have a good stance?
Or is he just a regular drunkard, with an oak barrel in place of his own head?
Well, at least one thing is certain, for I'm not a lonely man.
I've lots of good wine, comfort and delight, and a gorgeous woman beside me in my bed.
So I think everything should be fine, as long as I've this kingdom, and women who'll make me smile.
Written by: Otto 'Oerath' Timonen. - (Don't give any drinks to the poet, he doesn't know when to stop.)
Hey, folks, why all this silence? ;/
Anyway, as you may've noticed, I've managed to pay visits to this site more than often, 'cause my friend gave his laptop to my royal use. Everybody's working, except me. So superb.
I haven't seen that much activity here in the poet's section for quite a while, so I hope that fact changes along as the days pass. Also, I haven't seen Odette for a long time, and I greatly miss her poetic and somewhat realistic work.
It has been a good holiday so far. (though I've used up a lot of money as always)
And If I get to the right mood, I may accidently happen to write the next three chapters to my middle-eartish side-project. So, catch ya! - Oerath.
i am very happy for you, I hope you keep having a lovely holiday to the very last second.
It is not easy to always come on to the computer and then just sit down and right a poem, that is only your province it seems! And people get busy with non Middle-earth life and don't come on for a while. It happens.
Still I encourage any of the inhabitants of this dear site to try your hand at poetry.
I HAVE MISSED YOU ALL LIKE A PERPETUAL SWORD THROUGH ME AND I AM SO SORRY LEELEE AND OERATH.
Back to business folks.By tonight I will finish Leelee's assignment and Oerath dear yours is amazing.You are just unhindered and wow.Leelee I have no words for your patience with weird people like me but you will have to bear with me because I'm not leaving
And oh Leeeeeeeeleeeeeee I love your poem for Grondy.You write too well to give it up.I want more of your poetry here
I am so very glad you are back, I missed you so much.
I do not write poetry actually, and if the truth be told I don't understand it at all. I write prose, I became an editor at the age of nineteen and was only in concise news writing, then finally went into stories for children, some adult.
I have never understood the reason even for putting words the way poets do. And yet I am enthralled with poetry, it seems magical to me.
I was thinking of having just a thread for fifty words or less prose., That I could do.
That is why it is such a wonderful thing for me to come here and listen to both of you and the others. I am so thrilled to be carried away with your words.
Time for some surprising poetry. It's quite fictive and short story, which tells of a character who tries to escape the hunting shadows and finally finds his redemption through his own death, when the spirit of storm answers to his cries.
Broken is the door
And by glancing into the restless eye of storm, he knew that the unending night would come
could he escape, would there be enough time to see another day, or would he just silently pass away.
He was wondering how long the shadows would hunt him, and how there could ever even be a night this cold and dim
where should he go, would he be safe at his house, or should he just run away from the reaching hands of his own downfall.
Suddenly he came to a conclusion
'This must be a mere illusion! Why shouldn't I return to my home?'
But he didn't even knew, what he would've to go through
Shadows are moving too quickly, catching up with him, as he slowly opens the door.
Broken is the door, shattered are all of the windows
even all of the bookshelves have been brought down to ground
He just collapses and falls down on his knees
while the shadowy and gruesome creatures are moving towards him
But he cannot no longer hear their footsteps, nor feel the shivering touch of their scythes
there's only one thing left to do, for he cannot fall into the never ending dream of ghouls
He calls upon powers of the storm, and a bolt of lightning cuts through his every bone
'I can still see the broken top of my roof, but I cannot feel the beating of my heart
and though the power of life no longer flows in my veins, I'm not tainted by the shadow, nor the plague
I do not know how it came to this, but now I can finally leave my past and all of my worries behind
by entering through this broken door for one last time..
I can seek out the realm of the gods, who stand silently in the rain and darkness of every night.
I can seek for peace from the worlds that lie beyond the magic of day and light.
I'll be in eternal debt to the spirit of storm, for he granted me the keys to my own redemption.
And this wish shall be my last.. Do not ever run away from the shadows of your past.'
Written by: Otto 'Oerath' Timonen
Extricating my dress and hair from a tumble of homely wayside brambles I stand up to find myself on the side of a road.Both ways it ribbons away into dust and mouths of shapeless shadows.It is late afternoon and the trees are sleepy and brooding.I look up at the sky, a deep pink in the west and greying along the east and figure that I have to find an inn or some lodging before night falls on this desolate pathway.
I move along the road,west to the sun,my mind like a child’s empty canvas,like a sieve,without remembrance or regret,holding nothing and no one.Yet I’m not afraid for the land is quiet without being sinister and the air is cool but not chilly.
All of a sudden the steep banks of tree roots and dusty rocks on either side of my path falls away to give way to expansive woodlands on either side while the road itself tapers off to nothingness.I stand awhile in the shadows of the trees and the sky,listening intently for some hopeful sound; but there is none except the dumb lips of silence smothered in some veiled grief this land holds secret.So I decide to keep moving on my way and as I take a step, my breath catches in my throat,my heart stops to beat.
Out of the red western borders of the woodland comes a cloaked figure walking.Instinctively I hide for who knows what lies beneath the mask?
In the dark mat of leaves fallen in an unknown autumn I wait,nervous and curious.As the silent figure approaches I see it is a woman and her gait is sorrowful and lost.Her head is lowered,occasionally looking around,possibly reminiscing and as she passes by she turns her face to me and although quite some distance away the full unearthly,withchlike radiance of hers hits my soul and I gasp without meaning to for she is possibly a queen,impossibly beautiful,satiated in the dawn of the first morning yet her face bears a pallor of death,a fear yet a longing hindering her precious features and I wonder what troubles her.
She passes away into the folds of another darkness while I sit mute and stunned by this apparition.
Slowly I gather myself and begin to walk again,hopin to find someone before I am lost and hungry in this bleak,unfamiliar land and wait...what do I hear...hooves on gravel?
Firstly apologies because I am the worst prose writer ever born and more so when threatened with a challenge.Dear Leelee and whoever cares to read the above hocus-pocus I wrote ignore me and carry on.
My piece is set in Lothlorien,after the departure of the elves and Arwen is mourning Aragorn.Later I might try to to expand the prose for my own entertainment,I kind of like this part of the books.
Leelee it will be wonderful if you start that preci writing thread you are telling us.Will be glad to contribute
I very much liked the feel of both poems. Oerath, the being chased by shadows is marvellous, and the rescue of you, how wonderful. It has so much depth and imagery and it was rather thrilling to go along with you on that journey.
Odette, the imagery of the queen, the sorrow and remembrance instantly gave me Lady Arwen after her soul mate Aragorn has laid down and died. It was heartbreaking and beautiful and I shared your feelings as you hid and watched. Wonderful.
I am convinced if our dear Professor Tolkien was to read your works he would agree that the feeling you have both captured matched very well the feeling he put into your works. Thank you for reaching down and bringing up those two marvellous pieces.
Odette, I liked of your story. It had the usual good feel to it, and same goes for all of your earlier works.
I'm somehow glad to find myself here day after day, being accompanied by fellow poets, readers and other people, who at times pass by, and shares something from their own precious locked archive-like minds.
I'm pretty sure I had something else on my mind, but it doesn't matter much at this point of evening. I've had some drinks, and I'm still quite tired, because of my 8 h and 30 min journey with da train!
So, off I go.. for now.
Odette I can completely relate to some of your words, very vivid.
Listen, can you two keep things going for about a week. I am broken hearted as I just heard last night that my little sister has died.
Please keep strong and write and keep Middle-earth moving in its ethereal beauty. hugs.
Oh I'm so sorry to hear that Leels *big hugs*Take your time and sort things out.Will be waiting.
An Elven Journey
Silken gown of blue
atop Elven crafted shoes .
Quiver of gold cord,
Mithril from the Mountain Dwarves
To house the arrows
given by Lord Elrond once.
I am ready now.
My violet eyes
study the dim horizon
of gathering blue
mingled with pure gold.
I spy a faint path
that mortal man could not see
and begin my stride.
Middle-Earth takes shape
under the quickening sun,
with its wondrous rare beauty.
Comes into view
a hideous urukai
his eyes full of hate
for all that is Elven pure-
We fight, I am not afraid
of his wicked eyes
nor appalling countenance.
I win at long last
and cover him with elven leaves
and then I move on.
A day and night
I move swiftly on to Home,
Imladris so dear.
Lord Elrond stands there
under the starry black sky
and all of my kin.
Arms encircle me,I weep;
At last I am Home.
Good evening to all of you. I've been off for quite a while (about a week, eh), and well, tomorrow's my birthday! I'll be back in action by sunday, but for now I gotta just enjoy the ride. And to Odette; I'll continue your story in near days, I have been too excited about my birthdays, so I haven't written that much in the past days. I must apologize for that, but now, let the journey begin! - Oerath.
Ps. Leelee, I liked of your poem, and you know that you should write more. I'm also sorry about your loss, and sorry that I didn't say this earlier.
Thank you dearest Orath Windsoul (funny but each time I sound your name out in my mind I hear the wind and feel the excitement of a starry night pregnant with adventure and drama waiting to come.)
I have temporarily lost all my poetic chickies it seems, but life does that to us. One minute we are walking in the warm sun and there is a hint of a smile playing about our faces, our eyes glow with interest and wonder at the day; the next minute we are shattered by time and unforseen occurances and we bow low, wracked with pain and grief, or anger or just plain bewilderment. The sun has hidden her face and will not listen to our entreaties, the mind will not settle and return to pleasant thought for a while, and the heart stumbles and groans in the dark mist and cloud surrounding us.
So, I suppose I will write a teeny tiny poem once more. If you have read any of my little journal entries below, you know I am strictly a prose writer. I neither understand the workings of poetry nor grasp whatever it is that makes it so wondrous. I am just er....filling in a gap for right now.
But if there are among you out there, any wandering Elves, or Dwarves, any of the mysterious creatures roaming Middle-Earth, please , come and etch a few lines of feeling and make our day that much more satisfying. pllllllleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeze.
Once there lived a dwarf
bathed in blazing mirthril light,
a joy to behold
Craftsman's hands had he
and the things that he brought forth
brought praise from the elves-
their magnum opus.
Flashing eyes of blue
and braided beard down the chest
studded with rare gems;
He was Mountain King.
But the Dragon did come forth
and laid the king low.
Though the dwarf did craft
blazing wild axes to shred
the serpent's dread mouth ,
he could not prevail.
Now he sleeps with his brethren
under mountain cold.
Well well well...it seems Leelee's creative side just went overflowing
Beautiful poems dear Leelee..so vivid..I enjoyed them a lot.Plus the ones in the journal section are amazing.Treebeard is one of my most favourite Tolkien characters and so is Sam and his relationship with Frodo.Come Leelee write more..am waiting
Love it, Leelee!! Your words are so visual that I could easily see the images in my mind.
Although, there is a difference between writing prose and poetry, there is, also, a close relationship. It is when one recognizes that relationship that your creative flow can take you in either direction. I believe you have discovered that relationship. I look forward to more.
Oh thankyou very much. I smile at this because one of my teachers thought I was so hopeless she called me a 'wilted piece of celery'! I asked a family member who is so awesome at poetry he breaks my very heart, to explain it to me. He patiently spend a great long time explaining poetry in its varied forms and gave me countless examples and afterwards I could not only remember a thing he said, I was worse off than before!
Greetings to all of you, oh daughters and sons of the northern winds
tonight will certainly come, and with it comes the whispers from the depths of the deeps.
Hereby I declare, that it wasn't the end, 'cause on the evening of this day, we'll meet once again
may the sun fall down, far beyond the mountains and the sky, and may it give way to the moon
'cause when the time is at hand, I'll return to this magical land, and then all of the flowers shall bloom.
And a He-Hey to you too dear friend. I look forward to your return, the woods seem a little lonely, the hills a trifle melancholy and the plains just a shade too grey without my dear friends here. Hugs to you all.
It's very good to see you, Leelee, and all of you others too. I hope that you enjoyed of my little poem, I used pretty short time to write it, so it isn't actually that good as it could've been, but anyway, I've a lot of unfinished works, but tonight I'm going to finish one that I began yesterday. It's going to tell about one of The Mother Earth's sons, Domir. It's a tale about how Domir was born, and what he found on his journey towards his fate; to become the lord of winter, and to rule The Throne of Four Winds (One wind represents one time of year), so once he would be sitting on the throne, he could control all winds and storms of all four seasons of the year, and there's a good explanation to this, 'cause he's the most powerful of The Mother Earth's sons after all, and a good friend of the guardian me.
Until then, let your thoughts flow, 'cause despite all of the breaks and failures that I may encounter in future, I'm never going to quit! So, do just the same, write and forget the matters of this world, 'cause it's a vast universe, and you can't never know when a dragon lands on your backyard, or when a wizard walks through the doors of your home and says to you: 'We need to go, my friend, we must save The Middle-Earth!'.
Merry wait of christmas to all of you, and be seeing you later tonight.
And a little add: I'm too tired to write more, and as usually, this story was supposed to shorter than most of my stories, but it seems that it isn't. So, I'll take one more day to finish it with style.
Ah, never mind dear one, get some rest. Your shoes must be worn right down with all your travels and intrigues in Middle-Earth and a few other places.
That is absolutely true, for such is the life of a wanderer. Anyway, I think that I'll take some time to write this current story, 'cause it's interesting, how I suddenly came to a conclusion that this story must have a little bit of romanticism. =)
So, let's see what comes of it, and when I am able to finish it.
Alright, so I decided to give some more time to that new writing of mine, and I'll finish it, and then pursue to continue my other projects (there is quite a few of them), but now, I just re-wrote one old lyric and I added some new material to it, and it'll be my christmas gift to all of you here on PT, it has been a very good year, and I hope that next year will be even better.
So, for the one with the heart of fire!
Son of Ash and Fire
”This tale will take you back to the time when dragons ruled in this world.”
One nameless child was found from the top of the mountain of shadows
He had no will to live, but somehow light didn’t leave his eyes
He was raised by three mighty and friendly dragons, and they gave him a name
But even they were afraid of the fire that burned inside his heart, the fire of fate...
He lived with those dragons, day by day his strenght grew, and they always fought together
And all of that despair and sadness began to disappear from his life, until one day it faded away forever
One of them taught him all of the skills, knowledge and history, and the second of them taught him spells and the arts of sorcery
And the last one told him his name ”You’re Caen, the son of ash and fire... I'll teach you how to control your burning will and desires.''
Where all rivers shall flow, where all trees shall grow
There he stands on the great stone, looking at the restless sun
When he sings, the whole nature listens to his song
There he gazes up to the endless skies, waiting for the moment of time
Where all of stars fall, where even daylight answers to his call
On the back of the scarlet dragon, he flies across the sky
When he whistles, he gathers all other dragons to fight by his side
And in the end he is the one who was born in ash and flames
He's the one with the burning heart, a heart that cannot decay
''From fire Caen gained all of his powers, and long ages passed as he stared at the burning flames of his dragon-shaped candle, no wind couldn't make it's flames to falter, no rain couldn't put them off and no night couldn't stand against it's vanquishing and shining light, and forever it would burn, until Caen himself would put an end to it’s flames.’
Listen to the softness of wind, it'll ease your thoughts and calm your mind
Even as silent as this night is, you cannot get lost, just follow the paths of gleaming moonlight
Here I'll stay for the days to come, and as long as the fire of my candle burns, this will be the house of all light, the sanctuary in the darkness of night
My heart knows no coldness, my eyes will not tire, my soul burns forever with flames unfaltering and bright
My fate is to live with dragons, they're my family and my only hope.
Remember what I said, and tomorrow we shall all joy once more
This is my promise, this is the promise of Caen, The Dragonlord.
Written by: Otto ’Oerath’ Timonen
Christmas Edition: Merry Christmas to all of you here on PT! Oerath cheers.
Nicely done sir.
and Happy Holidays to you as well. May all in Middle-Earth take some time now to relax, refresh and spend time with those that matter in this life. You are all dear to my heart. hugs.
A Christmas Candle
Copyright 1975, 2010 by Gandalf
Oh, light a Christmas candle
Upon the Christmas tree,
And leave it there a-shining
For someone else to see.
Oh, sing a Merry Christmas
For everyone to hear it;
There is nothing so miraculous
As old-time Christmas spirit!
Caroling under bearskin
On a twilight cutter ride,
While all around the white goose down
Swirls as we glide.
Looking up we see on high
The star of Bethlehem,
Remembering that first Christmas
When shepherds worshiped Him.
As homeward-bound we turn,
The gladden church bells ring,
Announcing far and wide once more
The Day of which we sing.
Infant Christ in manger humble
Smiles upon this joyous sight,
And grants peace to all His children
On Christmas, yes, Christmas Night!
So light a Christmas candle
Upon the Christmas tree,
And leave it there a-shining
For someone else to see.
Well Christmas as it is a time of togetherness,it also brings to my mind the thought and the absence of many well-loved and some ill-loved near ones who have for many years lived and worked in different places and the many who have crossed the big river of Saint Christopher.So,
I wish you would come now,
Instead of scowling at traffic and waiting in hotel lobbies,
In bizarre countries,hooded or shining,
Come back you lost,exiled and unhappy,
Parent,child,brother,spouse and lover,
Odette! How wonderful to see you back here on PT, and I liked of your short poem.
I wrote something yesterday by myself. Just before I left and drove to a nearby town, I went to take a peaceful forest walk, and it renewed my mind and thoughts, eased my heart and gave me new inspiration, and so, I spent 15-20 minutes writing, and the result can be seen here.
Enjoy. And PS. Thank you very much, Leelee. I wish you merry christmas and be seeing you around. I really miss chats with you two.
And last, but not the least. Merry christmas to Galdalf, your poem was enjoyable and good.
The Cold and Gleaming Morning Sun
And this journey goes on forevermore
it goes on and on
I still remember the day when it began, and now I won't lose my track
'cause soon this winter will be gone.
And this road will never end
it will never ever end
I still remember the times of old, when I used to sing this song
and it's sad that soon this winter will be gone
And as long as I can, I'll always stay here with my family and my friends
together we shall wait for summer, we'll all be there as it finally awakes
But now, we all must thank the spirits for this wonderful year
'cause soon this winter will be gone
And as long as I can, I'll always remember to greet
The cold and gleaming morning sun.
'Embrace the coldness, hear my words, and see it for yourself
Do not worry, this darkness won't stay, you've to be calm and brave.'
This night will be eternal as the moon and the sun
This night will be colder, than all of the ages to come
This night will be white as the snow on mountains and hills
This night will be a gift for all of us to keep
It will be a memory of this winter, so beautiful and so dim
And as long as I can, I'll always remember to greet
The cold and gleaming morning sun.
And as long as I live, I'll promise to keep
the memories of this winter inside my heart.
'Tales and legends are meant to live forever, and so it should always remain.
And by telling these tales to others, they won't ever forget your words, nor your name.'
Written by: Otto 'Oerath' Timonen
This silence is a shame, and I don't like of it.
Anyway, I'll be off until the first day of the coming year, and now, I finally have a good writing book, and a two set of Parker's pencils, so splendid, so marvellous. Now I'm going to mark my first writing unto that book, which shall be my treasure from now on.
Happy new year to each and everyone of you. Thanks to the old gods of North, and thanks to The Mother Earth, thy winter is cold, but henceforth, it shalt take a new course. In my vision, I see the fields of pure and green grass and forests of blooming flowers, and in time that vision shalt be given birth, and so we shall wait for the prophecy that was declared untold years ago. Oh mighty spirits of nature, thou shall wait with me for the new dawn of this world.
Your cold and gleaming morning sun shall always be stored away in my heart to look at when I need to and think of you Oerath as you journey along. Lovely
And , Odette, can there be a more picturesque and poignant poem about Christmas than you have written here, absolutely splendid. Thank you very much.
This is a poem to honor my little sister who has just died.
I remember you
and your wide, dark eyes that sang
of life's beauty dear.
And your perfect skin
that glowed in the morning sun-
a soft dew drenched rose.
I remember you
talking softly at the park,
sharing your dear heart
hoping for a good future,
My sweet little elf.
I remember you
so thin and tiny,
little bird shiv'ring in wind
my arms around you.
I remember you.
Rest now dear little angel
Watch the road for me.
Leelee, my heartfelt sympathy for the passing of your sister. I shall include her in my prayers. I know what you are suffering through, and your poem does honor her very much. RIP.
Leelee I've never known your sister but your poem is so beautiful and so peace-radiating,I could picturise that park and feel how you two shared your lives.I've never known a very close sibling and your loss is so genuinely heartbreaking its brought tears to my eyes.It is wonderful to have your love and time Leels,I hope you know that and I'm sure your sister will be watching over you and smiling down at your beautiful words.