Shelob's Cinquains
Tom Bombadil
Old Tom
Bombadil and
his river daughter, fair,
gather lillies in the autumn's
cold morn.
Master
he was named,
by the legends of elves,
evil holds no power to harm
the wise.
Ringwraiths
Old ghosts
once, kings of men,
corrupted by their greed
for gold and power over men,
doomed.
To ride
in the stillness
of night, tall, dark shadows,
ever seeking the lost ring of
Sauron.
Shelob
She was
evil beyond
all knowledge of darkness,
whom guarded Cirith Ungol's pass,
always.
Spinning
silken designs
with sticky, poison webs,
listening for lost traveler's
footsteps.
Daughter of Ungoliant
She waits,
hunger growing,
dreaming of sweeter meat
the creature had promised he would
provide.
Darkness
surrounds evil
intention to slay those
caught in her tangled web of black
deceit.
The Inn of the Prancing Pony: a selection
Old inn
at the village
of Bree, under-the-hill
welcomed hobbits, dwarves and men
to stay.
Near fire
and drink their fill
of coffee, tea or ale
to sing and dance a little jig
or two.
Until,
by light of moon
and stars shining, softly,
in the night, wrapping cloaks tightly
around.
Walking,
along, as one,
like friends do together,
after an evening of joyful
laughter.
For Boromir
Captain of Gondor
Horn sounds,
calling Gondor's
son to his last battle,
protecting the Ring-bearer's life
with death.
River
flowing swiftly,
carried the small grey boat
into the current of his dreams
lost hope.
After All These Years
Tall ship
sails away to
distant shores happiness
leaving good friends whom love them so
behind.
Although
such fellowship
can never disappear
because our memories still live
today.
The Tomb
Cold stone
of ancient tomb.
They lay, still, like white ghosts,
gold and silver belts around them,
as chains.
October Night
Cold mist,
on Weathertop,
shrouds the night in terror.
They cower against high cliff walls,
trembling.
Shadows
rise from the dark,
vanishing into fear.
Cloaked form of white skull and bones,
stabbing.
Firelight,
flashing bright blade,
makes them all disappear.
He lies very still, not dead, but
wounded.
Rivendell
Sunlight
filters through leaves
of Rivendell's forest,
shining on the home of Elrond
the Wise.
Singing
elven voices can
be heard from high up in
branches of tall grey trees, soaring
skyward.
Firelight
flickers softly
against stone walls in the
great hall, as elvish lords recite
poetry.
Merry
Walking
the streets of Bree,
a black mist envelopes
him, as consciousness fades away,
like death.
Found, by
the stable boy,
he runs to the Pony,
shivering, from a fear beyond
madness.
Entish Cinquains
The Missing
Tall Ent
wandering through
lost lands of grey sorrow,
searching for lovely old Entwives,
always.
Seasons
pass so quickly,
spring, summer, winter, fall.
"Where, oh where can they be?" echos
his call.
Walking
in cold north woods,
he seeks from east to west,
til' only the warm south is left,
for dreams.
Fear
Waiting
in dark shadows,
the Nazgul creep forward,
watching hobbits sleeping alone,
dreaming.
