The Change of Time . . . and Other Musings

Writing is a passion many people experience after reading Tolkien's works. Come here to discuss and share your experiences with writing.

Postby SilverScribe » Sun Sep 28, 2008 8:30 pm

Celebrendir wrote:poetry--did you ever formally study it? Or what is your poetic background?


Thank you for the kind compliments . . . I have not "formally" studied poetry, at least not at a graduate or Univeristy level. I did study it in High School, having the great fortune to have an English Lit teacher who was a world class scholar. :) I will always remember her for fanning the flames of a love affair with Shakespeare that still burns bright to this day . . . ;)

But to be honest, I really don't claim to have a great deal of classic knowledge of the art form. I know a little bit of something here, and a smattering of something else there . . . ;) I've just always loved poetry and began writing it very young . . . and I've continued to write, on and off for many, many years.

If I break a few poetic rules, well, so be it. I've always written strictly for pleasure and it soothes me, no matter how rough or smooth the finished piece ends up. Of course, I've turned out, torn up and torched ;) my fair share of drivel too . . . LOL! I guess that's par for the course . . .

:D:D:D
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Postby A_Simple_Poet » Sun Sep 28, 2008 10:18 pm

If I break a few poetic rules, well, so be it.


Speaking as a repeat transgressor of said rules, I would invoke the famous line of Admiral Farragut, but then I would probably draw the wrath of Luthy. :roll:

I didn't know about this thread, probably since I pursued my own vanity and retired and got all mixed up with a lot of well...

:drink:

But I did enjoy what you wrote here, especially The Rebuttal to the Hack Writer. That was fantastic to me. :rofl:

I forgot about the Bard's guild. I'm sure I've been ex-communicated by now. Probably a good thing. :shock:
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Postby SilverScribe » Mon Sep 29, 2008 8:22 pm

A_Simple_Poet wrote:I forgot about the Bard's guild. I'm sure I've been ex-communicated by now. Probably a good thing. :shock:


Oh no Will. Once a Bard, forever a Bard. There's always a mug with your name on it hanging behind the bar, and no matter how long you've been away, you'll always be welcomed back with a cheer, and a beer because as you know . . . "It's good luck ta buy a Bard a beer!"

Don't be a stranger there . . . (says the Scribbly One that is often long absent as well . . . ) :whistle:

And I'm glad you enjoyed the Rebuttal piece. I have to admit, the night the muse gave me that I sat up here and laughed myself silly. I'm sure my hubby thought I was having a nervous breakdown or something . . . ;)

Just wait until you see what she gave me "Concerning Hobbits". Bilbo would probably faint.


:D:D:D
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Fur meine Mutter . . . Sie sind für immer in meinem Herzen . . .

A song for our Fallen, but not Forgotten . . . Galadriel's Lament
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Postby SilverScribe » Tue Sep 30, 2008 7:13 pm

And in the spirit of continuation, maybe it's best to put that "Concerning Hobbits" bit next . . . I wrote this for a Bard's Festival where the Theme was Humour . . . luckily the muse was right into the idea . . . ;)

An Ode to Hobbits


I should like to tell you, a wee, tiny tale
of a burrowing folk, rather fond of their ale.
And to make it quite clear, somewhere down the line,
that they are also well known to be fond of their wine.

But before I get going, slip too far along,
and get all confused by the words to this song,
Just one tiny fact, please keep this in mind,
This tale is about only the males of their kind.

Of fair Hobbit lasses, I would not venture to rhyme,
to do right in their praises would require much time.
Suffice it to say, that their virtues belong,
All by themselves, in another long song.

So back to the subject, from which I have strayed,
of stout little creatures, bright eyed and brave.
They're short and they're fat, they love comfort and fun,
and look rather comical, whenever they run.

Neat of habit and house and garden they be,
their pantries a wonder, for any to see.
Cold pies and tall cakes and cheeses so ripe,
though I have to confess, I doubt they like tripe.

Second breakfast they love, since one is too spare,
and tea and elevenses just have to be there.
Since by now you have guessed, they do love to eat,
so on to larger matters, that of their feet.

Great whacking stompers, all furry on top,
means no need for slippers, or boots or warm socks.
They can trudge on forever, over any terrain,
through marshes or meadows, in sun or in rain.
(And, I must add, hardly ever complain.)

Now you've heard what they say, the way things are fixed,
between the size of the feet, and the er, unmentionable bits.
Suffice it to say, before you worry and squirm,
It is not this tale's purpose, to deny or confirm.

Instead we will touch on other known facts,
like how they love waistcoats, but seem to shun hats.
They wear short little trousers, and most wear suspenders,
to ensure that their pants don't go south of their genders.

Now I've sung of their pantries, and talked of their feet,
discussed all their clothing, and the fact they are neat,
So what else shall I say, do you think I am done?
Not quite I'm afraid, there is still 'Hobbit Fun' !

Now if you recall, at the start of this tale,
I mentioned that Hobbits are quite fond of ale.
Well fond is a word that might be too tame,
For the capacity of halflings is part of their fame.

They can down ale in pints, with hardly a quiver,
serve a trickle for some, but for them, pour a river.
There's nothing like seeing this all-halfling club
of happy little Hobbits, getting tight at the pub.

So what is the point of this long-winded tale?
Am I hoping myself, for a few pints of ale?
How clever you are! I can't say you're wrong,
I mean why should the halflings be the only ones bombed?

But I have to admit, that I would be remiss,
If I forgot something else, and it goes just like this,
"Lift up your glasses, be you maid, lord or squire,
In a toast to the halflings, the Hobbits, the Shire!"


:D:D:D
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Postby SilverScribe » Tue Sep 30, 2008 7:29 pm

I guess this next one falls under the "Tolkien Themed" poetry class, since it was a song the muse gave me for a wedding here on TORC, that of Hobbituk and the elf-maid, Turelie_Lurea . . . ;)

And yes, I seem to have a thing for silver . . . :blush:


The Silver Thread

1st Chorus:

A silver thread is all you need
to bind my heart to you.
A single silver thread for which
you have nothing left to do.
If you should ever loose this silver
thread that binds my heart,
Then would this fragile silver thread,
tarnish and grow dark.

Verse 1:
A maid who held the contents of her heart,
too close for far too long,
Until she saw just what it was,
that she was running from.
To feel the brimming love of life that
she longed to share again,
and sad to find that after all,
there was naught but pain.

Verse 2:
But time and and circumstance conspired,
and caught her in their game.
That once she played it to the end,
she would never be the same.
But the faithful Hobbit, her courtier, awaits,
with a love that ever stands,
beside his one true hearts desire,
her heart cradled in his hands.

Verse 3:
Now the days and nights have slipped away
and there is no hurt anywhere.
Two lovers destined, turned 'round to see
each other standing there.
They see within each other's eyes
what they have never seen before,
and recognize exactly what
the Silver Thread is for.

Final Chorus:
A silver thread you give to me,
as I give my heart to you.
A single silver thread for which
we have nothing left to do.
Never,will I loose this silver
thread which binds my heart,
My love is giv’n, forever yours,
‘til the silver stars go dark.


:D:D:D
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Postby SilverScribe » Tue Sep 30, 2008 7:33 pm

Sometimes the muse turns dark . . . I'm pretty sure this was written for the Reckoning RP . . .


The Tempering

The road stretches out before me,
and disappears into the future's mist,
a ribbon of infinite possibility,
in equal measure cursed, and blessed.

I stand in the darkness and muse,
over the endless games of chance,
and agonize over which to choose,
a beckoning grave, or the dance.

The forge is filled with refining fire,
and prepares to temper this blade,
with equal parts of duty and desire,
for of these is my future made.

Oh walk with me, ye gods of fate,
don't abandon me nor leave me bereft,
but tell me true if the choice I make,
will reclaim my honour in death.

My heart, into the billowing flame,
Despite my fear, must it go,
To buy a life, and cleanse my shame,
tho' none shall ever know.


.
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Postby SilverScribe » Wed Oct 15, 2008 8:29 pm

Aha! I found an old subfolder on my computer and what should I find lurking there? LOTR poems . . . ;)

SPRING IN RIVENDELL
==================

A song of spring, as she tip toes in,
what better tale to tell,
Of how she scatters the gently scented days
of Spring in Rivendell.

She calls, she calls, like the silver sound
of a softly ringing bell.
The birds do sing in tribute blending
with Spring in Rivendell.

How soft with mists does the eye behold
the green and verdent dell.
Clothed in velvet, the woods seem to dance with joy
for Spring in Rivendell.

When the height of Spring, sweet Beltaine
graces this place as well.
Then passion fllares, the spark of life lights
fair Spring in Rivendell.

So then do arms and limbs entwine, and lips
sweet secrets tell,
while the lovers dance and the stars smile down
on Spring in Rivendell.

And when the whispering droplets come,
more gentle, than ever fell.
They stir sweet memories of softest showers from
past Springs in Rivendell.

Her pure, ageless beauty with beckoning arms
does the heart compel,
to lay down life’s burden, and watch the returning
of Spring in Rivendell.

How soft, how sweet, how quicksilver now
the murmuring breeze does swell.
And soothes the fractious heart by singing
of Spring in Rivendell.

The peace of ages, of mystic time unending
does soon the soul indwell.
And smoothes the brows, no cares to stain
fair Spring in Rivendell.

I will still my heart, and thus it becomes
a deep and echoing well.
Where pure and clear the waters reflect
this Spring in Rivendell.

So come my love, lay down beside me,
and fall under the ancient spell.
Come wander the waking dream of beauty that
is Spring in Rivendell.


:D:D:D
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~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~
Fur meine Mutter . . . Sie sind für immer in meinem Herzen . . .

A song for our Fallen, but not Forgotten . . . Galadriel's Lament
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Postby rwhen » Thu Oct 16, 2008 2:47 pm

Well look what the cat dragged up from the basement and added to as well.


Excellent schtuff my friend Scribbles.

I love all your work...gave me good reading today. Don't know how I missed you before. But a great idea. I have probably written a hundred or more poems and songs on TORC in my time here and I know I could never round it all up, so job well done and keep digging up your jewels.

I love your Hobbits Tale and your Rebuttal to a Hack of a Writer ;)

and I sing of my Love too.

You are great with imagery, as you have been told by many much greater than myself.

I will remember to check the thread more often.

Ah the ABC's...how long ago did I do that....*thoughts trail off*
Love is as big or as little as a hug!!

vison! Alex!Rowanberry!OldToby

I will always treasure and remember your appreciation. Thank you. -2007 WCA's
Overwhelmed by your support and appreciation. Thank you. - 2008 WCA's

The Expected Party!! is now on the road to Gondor to celebrate. Join us.

And getting into trouble with Rally The Eldar.

Time out of Mind, forever bound to my Knight Ayslhyn

Vanadarlin', my SSOTH - 143 forever :hug:
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Postby SilverScribe » Mon Dec 15, 2008 11:36 pm

Gadzooks, look how time flies!

Sorry to be so late in replying rwhen, but you know . . . MoME and the WCAs (and now all the pre-Christmas Jazz) has kept me away from most everything . . .

Thank you for the kind compliments my friend. I plan to continue to add to this thread, perhaps over the Christmas break when I'll have some free time, LOL.

:D:D:D
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~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~
Fur meine Mutter . . . Sie sind für immer in meinem Herzen . . .

A song for our Fallen, but not Forgotten . . . Galadriel's Lament
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