Bacon, sausages and tomatoes,
Mushroom pieces and fried potatos.
Hobbits love such simple fare,
Cooked just right, with plenty to spare.
Piled high on china plates,
The kind of food Ol' Gollum hates.
But Frodo, Merry, Pippin and Sam,
Ask for more and say "thank ye' Mam".
The best food in the village of Bree,
Served by Rosie, at the Prancing Pony!!
A Poem by Mervyn -- Dedicated to Gollum
Little fishy swimming by
Smoothly silver, sparkling eye.
Strongly muscled, juicy meat
For a second breakfast treat.
Flappy tail and stiff of fin,
Strong in water, not too thin,
Gills so red with promise sweet,
Darting wriggles, twists so fleet.
Crunchy bones and smooth edged scales,
Squeeze till movement slows and fails.
Linger on the salty taste,
Munch it all and leave no waste.
'Strider' by a Bree Tavern patron.
Always listening, never singing,
Tempers bristling, wisdom bringing.
Darkling corners, pipeweed smoking,
Never often laughing, joking.
Shattered, weapon, solemn marker,
Manner lately, sterner, darker,
Hidden purpose, splendor showing,
Telling nothing, simply knowing.
Fastest walker, swiftest rider,
Stranger, mystery, comrade, Strider.
Secret getaway, you can get there in a flash,
Buckleberry Ferry--follow me.
Take the ferry at night, and the ferryman's charge is free,
Buckleberry Ferry--follow me.
Float down the river, count the shooting stars,
Which log's an alligator, which one is just a stick?
Then we'll fire up Old Toby 'til we haven't got a care,
Buckleberry Ferry--follow me.
Secret hiding place, you can sneak away at night,
Buckleberry Ferry--follow me.
Take a flask of ale, and some bread and bit of cheese,
Buckleberry Ferry--follow me.
Dangle fingertips in the water cool and dark,
Touch a sunburnt nose with a drop of liquid fire,
Fire up your imagination, 'til it takes you from the Shire,
Buckleberry Ferry--follow me.
Ol' Fatty Lumpkin, plump as a pumpkin.
Along the trail, thru the woods.
Leading hobbits in bright hoods.
Of no old barrow-wight scared,
Charges them, teeth bared.
Go away you ghosts old,
Back where lands are cold.
Trouble poor hobbits, never more.
My master Tom, will even the score!
You came from the mud
Kinda like a spud
But more sexy.
Seven feet tall
Baby it's aaaall
Hotness.
That dark line of drooool
Makes me want to swooooon
And scream, "I'll be your Halfling!"
So hey Mr. Lurtz
With you I'll share my yurt
Till you get your head chopped off.
Rar.
Your black skin so scaly
It makes my heart achy
When you screech like a dying llama.
Peircings all up your nose
I'd like to get my hands on those
Clammy wrinkled biceps.
Those misshapen ears
Bring me to tears
I whisper, "bhub-hosh, skai!"
So Orc Number Seventeen
Let's go out for ice cream
Before Legolas shoots you in the face.
Nya!
Flickering images of you.
The outer physical reality of you portraying the inner emotional
reality of a caricature written and rewritten by some writer, who knows
how many times.
Not the true reality of you.
Does anyone? Will anyone see the true image of you?
The inner emotional reality of you?
Not the part you play to the world but, the man in the corner of a
small work shop bearing his soul through the physical reality of art
and the written word.
Even looking at your soul laying there naked could we ever understand
that to be you?
"Kill for it!
We must gets it, our preciousss,
We needs it!"
That's what He says, shoving for hate...
Torture, needing it, not having it
Such cold, dark, pain, so alone
Hate it!
And there...nice master...he has it.
And he also has the other -
cruel to me, but not like my Other
my hateful Gollum.
His other, his Sam...so caring for him,
comforting, holding.
No comfort for poor Smeagol -
No warmth, just cold fishes.
Nice master, maybe...
maybe he cares for poor Smeagol.
Dare to reach out, brush his knee...
So nice, the contact, not alone.
"An old, starved, pitiable thing"
but reaching out...maybe...
His other awakes.
"Sneaking!" he says.
Yes, yes,
Gollum the Sneak.
Little fishy swimming by
Smoothly silver, sparkling eye.
Strongly muscled, juicy meat
For a second breakfast treat.
Flappy tail and stiff of fin,
Strong in water, not too thin,
Gills so red with promise sweet,
Darting wriggles, twists so fleet.
Crunchy bones and smooth edged scales,
Squeeze till movement slows and fails.
Linger on the salty taste,
Munch it all and leave no waste.
Ancient lands play across our sight and we are lost
In your vision of ancient and mythic times.
Your art, presented in sound and light, captivates us
And for a while, we are not ourselves.
It is magic, this spell you have cast.
It is a celebration that leaves us wanting more.
From the soft words of the beginning
To the heroic and inspired ending, we are your canvas.
In creating, you inspire us to create.
In believing, you make us believers.
In dreaming, you enrich our dreams.
In touching us, we no longer fear to touch others.
So, we who have been enriched and uplifted thank you.
With words and songs, watercolor and oil, ink and crayon
We strive in our way to touch what you have shown as real.
Middle Earth lives and we shall never again be the same.
Fishhh for Gollum, fishhh for strength,
Fishhh of any size or length,
Silver fishhhes, soft and sweet,
Always Gollum's favorite meat.
Fishhh in moonlight, fishhh at night,
Rapid fingers stop their fight,
Into the mouth, though wiggling still,
Tasssty fishhh, too good to kill.
Fishhh all juicy, fishhh to taste,
Never lets thems go to waste.
Slavering, slobbering over fishhh,
Always Gollum's favorite dish.
A cheerful sound, a happy laugh,
He gives in the Shire so green.
He joyfully embraces his wizard friend,
Glad that his waiting is at an end
For the finest party they've ever seen.
His friend returns his warmest hugs,
Gladly enfolds this friend so dear,
In large and gentle hands he holds
One small of frame, with heart so bold
It lights his eyes to have him near.
The sound of innocence and cheer -
This is a valued treasure great;
For such a friendly, welcoming smile
Washes away the weary miles,
And lifts, for a moment, the hand of fate.
We'll start with Mark Ferguson, playing Gil Galad
His screen time's so short, it makes Al, Gil, and Galen sad
He was host of The Mole and New Zealand Big Brother
It's really too bad he couldn't have been cast as another
(with more screen time)
Isildur comes next, played by Harry Sinclair
And there's a certain DOTP who's not willing to share
Just cause he looks so HOT when he's got the ring round his neck
And that arrogant look that says you can all go to heck
(can I say heck?)
Hugo Weaving playing Elrond, lord of the elves
Galen, Al, and Gil fight amongst themselves
Over who gets to be Eldatari, loved and graced
