Light Verse for LOTR 2
Verses Index 
Contents of this page, alphabetical by title:

A Dribble for Middle-earth - Vison
A Silly Old Orc - Lindorie
A Tiny Ode for a Humble Kitchen Implement - Auntkimby
The Best Hair - Lothithil
The Dwarvish Delegate Speaks out on Hair - Lothithil
Gimli Gloin's Son Took His Axe- Mathom
Gollum's Hair - Dinledhwen
Haldir's Lament - halavana
Hey Ho to the Oscars He Goes - kiwifrodo
Inspecting - Tori*Took
The Last Word on Hair Istari Style - Lothithil
Legolas' Rebuttal to Boromir- Lothithil
Merry on Hair - Lothithil
The Muse is Loose - Isilme
Ode to Sam Gamgee by Mr. Smeagol - faye
Once Upon a Shire Sleeping - Auntkimby
Orcs - Auntkimby
Squish - starlinguk
Triolet for Legolas - Flip the Supercat
Wraith Drinking Song - Morgoth

 Haldir's lament

Here I sit on my high flet,
Where all can see, I'm not dead yet.


Sipping some wine and eating my lembas
Watching all that happens on Caradhras.

News of my demise, somewhat premature,
Spread by so many, so hard to adjure.

Such tales of wonder, bravery and woe,
Reach me in Lorien, from whence I don't go.

Oh well. Such is the life of a fictional elf.
Now, just a few words with this Peter Jackson,
I'd have for myself.

Just wondering, exactly, how fast can he run?
Archery practice, with him, might be fun... >:-)
- halavana


A Tiny Ode for a Humble Kitchen Implement

I am a fry pan, dented and battered
To you I'm not much, but to Sam I mattered
He lost me in Mordor and how he mourned
I'm a very important character- I'll not be scorned!

So now I make an earnest plea-
For next "minor character"- how about me?
Who says the character must be living?
I am the fry pan- I did much giving!


Wraith Drinking Song

Loud is the sound of the flying worm . . .
Oh Lord Sauron how do I make it turn . . .
No hobbits here, no Ring is there . . .
Don't venture back with pockets bare . . .

Spent all day over marshes dead . . .
Where have the the two halflings fled? . . .
Wanting now drink from elves that bled . . .
But how to drink without a head?
- Morgoth

~~The Muse is Loose!~~

I sit at the computer, which word to use?
Then a voice from nowhere softly says, ‘Try puce.’
Puce I think, how can I ? What colour is puce?
Laughing the voice says ‘It’s what Royalty use.’

Sensing I’m not willing to put it to use,
The voice cajoles me, ‘Boromir’s shirt was puce.’
‘No, burgundy it was. Me you can’t confuse.’
My grammar is incorrect, I’m not amused.

‘You’ll leave me alone if I consent to use,
the word puce?’ My words clear, ‘We can have a truce?’
Silence greets my last request, till she says ‘Spruce.’
I rejoin, ‘Spruce! You want me now to use spruce!’

This banter will go on till I agree to use,
each word or phrase put forward by my muse.

~~(Isilmës' Muse)~~

Definition of Puce: a dark reddish purple.
- Isilme

Triolet for Legolas

On Mirkwood elves? A velvet dress?
At a council, which they wore.
It looks quite odd, I must confess
On Mirkwood elves, a velvet dress,
And yet their swooners are no less
And ever seeming at the fore.
On Mirkwood elves - a velvet dress
At the council - which they wore.
- Flip the Supercat

Once upon a Shire, sleeping
While the Gaffer's teeth were steeping
And taters rolled upon the pantry floor...
While he snored and shook the ceiling
Until the taters themselves were peeling
There came a knock upon his chamber door...
Quoth angry Marigold: "DA! NO MORE SNORE!"
- AuntKimby

(Galadriel Voice) If Peter Jackson doesn't win the Best Director Oscar, NO ONE WILL.
If he does not win, he may diminish, and go into the West, and remain Peter Jackson.

He is an Oscar Winner. To win the Oscar for Best Director is to be alone.

Hey Ho! To the Oscars he goes!
To win for his hard work and woes!
He should win, but then if not,
there sure will be... many angry fans!
Sweet is the movie which he did make,
and the cast that made it for Tolkiens sake!
Better than any other man,
is the one who made it for his fans!
- kiwifrodo

Gimli, Gloin’s son, took his axe,
And gave the Uruk-Hai forty wacks.
When Gimli bragged what he had done,
Legolas answered “forty one!"
- Mathom

I can't let a challenge go by,
I must somehow give it a try.
I'm not much of a poet
and most everyone knows it
"Here's my offering," I say with a sigh.

There once was a silly old orc
Slapped his head and said, "I'm such a dork!"
Though I'm not fond of chicken
one food makes my heart quicken
the other white meat, elf, not pork!

Wanted to get at least one poem in for my favorite orc ;-)

hard working
they have to be just right
getting Uruks ready to fight

warriors have to be tough
scar here
pierced nose there
making sure orc skin is rough

now him?
about this orc...
who exactly is he?
there inspecting
yet looking funny
But the coolest orc of them all!
- Tori*Took

Squish: a poem (ish)

How, oh how, do we kill this orc?
The SFX editor asked the director
Squish him! Squish him! PJ said.
What happens when the ladder falls?
Squish them! Squish them! PJ said.
What happens when the hook hits home?
Squish him! Squish him! PJ said.
What happens when the Ents attack?
Squish them! Squish them! PJ said.

The editor sighed
And decided that for once
The orc would step aside
- starlinguk

We hate orcs.
Pelt them with corks.
Stick them with forks.
We so hate orcs.
- auntkimby

A dribble for Middle Earth.....a drooble?

When Mrs. Bean was younger she had twins. She named one Sean, but she couldn't come up with a name for the dark-haired one and settled on Mr. Bean, since Mrs. Bean wasn't really Mrs. Bean, but Miss Bean, never having undergone the trifling ceremony of marrying the father of her twins. Mr. Bean went on to fame and fortune, although his fame was not without a price. One viewer of his TV show expired from laughing, and Stephen Leacock chuckled and rolled over in his grave. Sean Bean went to Portugal and fought in the Peninsular war under Old Hookey, and got elevated to the rank of Captain and had numerous hot romances with obliging Portugese and Spanish noblewomen who couldn't seem to keep their hands off his muscular torso, which was sure to be displayed prominently in every episode. So then he got to go to Gondor and wear posh robes and what not and ended up trying to steal a ring off a little guy and he died under circumstances that brought tears to the eyes of millions, but not me.

The end

ode to sam mr.smeagol

oh sam you are stupid,
fat and so smelly,
i find it amazing you have room in your belly,
for little bony rabbits,
i caught upon one morn,
but spoiled them with fire, you did,
and now there are no more.

you call me such names,
i would not repeat,
apart from the one about the stench of my feet,
for you are a hippocrit,
a nasty fat foot-smeller,
i weep every night into my bottle of stella.

and as the sun brings in the new day,
empty is my bottle, so i throw it away,
and i suffer yet more of your infinite mocks,
leading you on, in the paths in the rocks.

sob!....anyone come up with a response from sam??? LOL!!!!!

Gollum's Hair - A Lantern Poem

No body
Tried a comb over
- Dinledhwen

Legolas' Rebuttal to Boromir, a poem

What makes a hero stand above
The crowd of common ilk?
What makes them love him most of all...
'Tis blonde hair, like flowing silk

My arrows may be always true
My swords flash like the sun
But if my hair was ever askew
My fans might turn and run!

So, fellow heroes, hear my words
If your adorers you would retain.
Take good care of your brain-mop
Lest you end up needing Rogaine!
- Lothithil

The Best Hair

Hobbits may not be the fairest ones
In Middle earth to see,
"Good natured" rather than "beautiful"
Our features are said to be.

Sweet faces like the cherubim,
Our bodies round and small,
Not even by the Metric System
Can we be considered tall.

So when it comes to games of war,
Or strength, or some other sport,
Just like we measure next to Men...
We come up rather short!

If you like tall, athletic Elves
Or noble Men, rugged and hearty,
Don't take the East Road through the Shire
Unless you love to party!

Yet, in one arena we hold the title
And never shall we be beat...
We have THE hair; rich, thick, and curly
On our cute little heads and tough little feet!
- Lothithil

The Dwarvish Delegate Speaks out on Hair

The life of a Dwarf in Middle earth
Is a life filled with passion and work
He mines and smiths and sings his songs
From toil, he never shirks.

He has no time for trivial persuits
(Not even the LOTR version of the game)
When there are gems to shape or ore to smelt
Or a dragon's treasure to claim.

Yet, amid his busy life a Dwarf,
Who is worth his salt and bread,
Takes the greatest effort to curry and shape
The filaments on his head.

A wealthy growth of reddish hair
And a long, forked beard to match
Will identify to the untrained eye
The ideal Dwarvish catch

But be wary, ye of little lore,
And peer carefully beneath the curls,
'Cause with Dwarves it's a little hard to tell
Between the boys and the girls!

- Lothithil

Addendum by Nororeiel:

Another ode to Dwarven hair

Oh, Dwarven hair is a luxurious thing -
From head and chin it seems to spring.
No female Dwarves, you may have heard,
But that, of course, is quite absurd.
For this, this beards must take the blame,
For we both wear them just the same.
It is the Dwarven thing to do,
Because they're great for catching stew!

The last word on hair, Istari Style

Now is the time for Wisdom to speak
In the friendly little debate
About hair, between these goodly folks
Who, up til now, have been good mates.

There certainly is, without a doubt,
Some virtue to be said
Concering each individual and race
On the status of their heads

Not all can have hair sleek and blonde
Like Legolas the Vain,
Nor need it become snarly and skanky
...Excepting now and again.

Curly and cute or straight and sheer
Or plaited in rows like corn
Hair doesn't make us who we are
It is just something to adorn.

Of course, my own hair is a marvel
If you'll permit one so wise to brag
If I never trimmed my beard
Upon the floor it would now drag!

And my snowy locks, once cleaned and pressed
(Following the Balrog thingy)
Are full and show no sign of thinning
And are never, ever stringy!

Hobbits, yes, are cute enough
And Valar knows they're full of heart,
And Dwarves, unarguably, have braiding
Down to a fine art.

Men are brave and lucky,
And Elves are pretty even in the dark,
But in a contest of "who's got the 'do"
The Wizard is first off the mark!

So save your arguments, my friends,
For as fair as each of you are,
When it comes to the finest hair
The prize goes to the maiar!
- Lothithil

Merry on Hair (no one gets the last word on Merry!)

Now that the others
Have had their chance to air
Their philosophical debates
On who's got the nicest hair

We can turn our attention
To things of greater import
(and give me suitable time
To think up a snappy retort!)

Strider brought up a touchy subject,
And Boromir made his point,
Legolas spoke most knowledgably,
And Gimli shook up this joint,

Gandalf spoke with wisdom,
Against him argument can be brought,
And Frodo gave a good debate,
But there are more facts here to be sought:

Of all the hobbits, I must claim,
If modesty should be discarded,
I would have to win the game,
If you counted all the broken-hearted --

-- Maidens, that is, I have left behind
All swooning over me
My rogish charm, my clefted chin
And my hair, unkept and free

They follow me; it's not easy,
To be this pretty AND smart
But I gave them the slip, with a lucky tip
And helped Frodo get his start!

You see, it's not the hair that makes the hero
Nor is it the sword or bow
It's not how long, or white, or bushy...
It's where you are and who you know!

- Lothithil