My birthday poem to JRD:
My heart has been captured by a dwarf.
The one with the soulful brown eyes and the rich, resonating voice.
His strength of spirit, his loyalty to his friends.
It makes me love him more.
And yet I wonder............How much of my love is for the dwarf?
Could some of my love be for the man inside the dwarf?
The man behind the mask and the long beard?
This man, who by all accounts, is kind and sweet and generous to his fans.
Methinks that if anyone else has been cast as the dwarf,
I would love him not.
That voice! That glorious voice! Perhaps I love the tree a little too........
Treebeard, some call him. I call him magnificent.
That voice could sing me to sleep at night.
That voice could soothe all my worries, and chase away all my fears.
Our dear JRD, how I love him so.
Yes, yes, Viggo, Orli, and Sean are loved by all.
But is there room in your hearts for John as well?
I know my heart has been captured.
The dwarf or the man, it does not matter.
He has at least one devoted fan, who would follow the dwarf to the ends of middle earth.
Happy Birthday, dearest John!
- samwisegirl
top(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
Valinor Poem
The Elves have all gone,
To glittering lands beyond the sea,
It’s there that I must go to,
And watch my friends say goodbye to me.
- Queen of Gondor
A Middle Earth Counting Rhyme!
Nine were a Fellowship, bound in love
To destroy a ring of gold.
Eight are the great of the Valar,
Since the greatest left their fold.
Seven, the sons of Feanor,
For his oath their hearts were sold.
Six were the sorrows of Turin,
By the stone of the hapless told.
Five were the Maiar Istari,
All but one, the truth still uphold.
Four were the elves, ents, dwarves & men,
All peoples fair & bold.
Three were the powers of Three elven rings,
And Three Silmarills of old.
Two were the trees of Yavanna,
Lights of silver & of Gold.
And One is Eru, who alone is Lord,
And knows all things untold.
note: there are some small "untruths" in this, but i thought i'd post it anyway. consider it poetic licence!
A Middle Earth Counting Rhyme!
Nine were a Fellowship, bound in love
To destroy a ring of gold.
Eight are the great of the Valar,
Since the greatest left their fold.
Seven, the sons of Feanor,
For his oath their hearts were sold.
Six were the sorrows of Turin,
By the stone of the hapless told.
Five were the Maiar Istari,
All but one, the truth still uphold.
Four were the elves, ents, dwarves & men,
All peoples fair & bold.
Three were the powers of Three elven rings,
And Three Silmarills of old.
Two were the trees of Yavanna,
Lights of silver & of Gold.
And One is Eru, who alone is Lord,
And knows all things untold.
note: there are some small "untruths" in this, but i thought i'd post it anyway. consider it poetic licence!
- Evermind
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
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
ode to sam gamgee...by mr.smeagolSquish: 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
The Shopkeeper
She lingers at the back of the crowd, following the parade of soldiers with her eyes. She longs to be closer, but allows those spaces to be filled with wives, sisters, brothers, mothers, fathers.
She is not related to any in the company today, but she knows their faces. She has watched them grow, running gleefully through the streets of the city, growing into strapping young lads and wooing their sweethearts.
Now they are riding to their deaths, with their solemn, resolved faces.
When the last of the company has passed, and the doors to the city are once again bolted, she creeps quietly out into the street and retrieves a single flower, its petals crushed from the passing hooves. It is enough to serve as remembrance.
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
The Shopkeeper
She lingers at the back of the crowd, following the parade of soldiers with her eyes. She longs to be closer, but allows those spaces to be filled with wives, sisters, brothers, mothers, fathers.
She is not related to any in the company today, but she knows their faces. She has watched them grow, running gleefully through the streets of the city, growing into strapping young lads and wooing their sweethearts.
Now they are riding to their deaths, with their solemn, resolved faces.
When the last of the company has passed, and the doors to the city are once again bolted, she creeps quietly out into the street and retrieves a single flower, its petals crushed from the passing hooves. It is enough to serve as remembrance.
- Elen Lilta
top
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
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!!!!!
-faye
Gollum's Hair - A Lantern Poem
Thin
Wispy
No body
Tried a comb over
Spare
Gollum's Hair - A Lantern Poem
Thin
Wispy
No body
Tried a comb over
Spare
- Dinledhwen
Legolas's 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!
top
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!
Legolas's 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!
top
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!
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!
top
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
a poem about lost sleep
It is the middle of the night
and all the days monsters still want to fight
I just wish I could sleep
and out the closet they do peep
go away leave me alone
I am dog tired to the bone
Alas these monsters they do growl
such as this I do not allow
so off I go to try once more
first I will close the closet door
to see those pale eyes shine no more
and let them know they are such a bore
for when tomorrow morning breaks
once again it will be all I can take
day after day after day I try
and night after night,I sit and cry
for my love has gone away
to be king for more than a day
gone are the days of the woodland trips
lost is the gown now tattered in rips
These must be my last of days
so I hope at least I can sleep
no longer doomed to weep
over love that has been lost
sweet sleep of death at such a cost
loss of the ancient ways
Oh Gandalf visit me
as you once did so long ago
when I was much younger with so much time to go
so we can speak of things needs be
return dear friend I no longer see
top
a poem about lost sleep
It is the middle of the night
and all the days monsters still want to fight
I just wish I could sleep
and out the closet they do peep
go away leave me alone
I am dog tired to the bone
Alas these monsters they do growl
such as this I do not allow
so off I go to try once more
first I will close the closet door
to see those pale eyes shine no more
and let them know they are such a bore
for when tomorrow morning breaks
once again it will be all I can take
day after day after day I try
and night after night,I sit and cry
for my love has gone away
to be king for more than a day
gone are the days of the woodland trips
lost is the gown now tattered in rips
These must be my last of days
so I hope at least I can sleep
no longer doomed to weep
over love that has been lost
sweet sleep of death at such a cost
loss of the ancient ways
Oh Gandalf visit me
as you once did so long ago
when I was much younger with so much time to go
so we can speak of things needs be
return dear friend I no longer see
- Halona Treeclan
Merry Merry not contrary
To the things Pippin wants to do
Eat some more food, light a big dragon
Gandalf isn't pleased with you.
Merry Merry quite contrary
What do you have in your sack?
mushrooms and apples, tomatoes and corn
Farmer Maggot wants them back.
Merry Merry not contrary
Follows Frodo whereever he will roam
Pledge allegiance to Rohan, fight for your King
Great your reward is at home.
- GondorianGirl
“Merry” said Sam, “You saved Eowyn.”
“Pippin” said Frodo, “You saved Faramir.”
“Frodo” said Pippin, “You saved Middle-Earth.”
“Sam” said Merry, “You saved Frodo, you saved us all.”
"Ringers" said Ada, "You saved Me"
- Onono Laivindur
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!
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!
