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[zlob]

Ummmm, this might sound childish and retarded, but this is a dwarven song I wrote some time ago:

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Seven brave dwarves went through the gate,
the old gate of Mountainhomes,
off they went, not knowing their fate
was to die in pain and gore.

Their trip was long, gruelling and harsh,
but then they thought they'd succeed.
Then they arrived to evil marsh
and doubt has started to breed.

A massive tower, with giant spikes
made of black iron and stone,
stood there, piercing the thick gray clouds.
Of this they haven't been told.

But brave they were, they had no fear,
they came for riches and gold,
oblivious to the threat so near,
they established a dwarven hold.

The fortress have grown, more have come,
lured by the gold shine of coin,
and tower still stood, feared by some,
believed to be abandoned.

The fort rose to power and wealth,
fortune the dwarves have amassed,
too long they were lucky and safe,
they let their war axes rust.

Time has come, that all were proved wrong,
the dwarves have met their demise,
this was the day for them to fall,
the day for dead to arise.

Walls did not stop foul undead wave,
the bridge did not close on time,
and fought for life, the soldiers brave
but all efforts were futile.

Such was the price of dwarven gold
of coin and treasure and jewels.
And tower stands, for men to behold,
and to ignore, for such fools.

(Pour us some wine, buy us a drink,
for that we surely have earned.
Sober and thirsty dwarf can't sing,
at least when we are concerned.)

I am not a native speaker so my vocabulary might be poor, but it's better to try than to do nothing at all.

[tuypo1]

Ummmm, this might sound childish and retarded, but this is a dwarven song I wrote some time ago:

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Seven brave dwarves went through the gate,
the old gate of Mountainhomes,
off they went, not knowing their fate
was to die in pain and gore.

Their trip was long, gruelling and harsh,
but then they thought they'd succeed.
Then they arrived to evil marsh
and doubt has started to breed.

A massive tower, with giant spikes
made of black iron and stone,
stood there, piercing the thick gray clouds.
Of this they haven't been told.

But brave they were, they had no fear,
they came for riches and gold,
oblivious to the threat so near,
they established a dwarven hold.

The fortress have grown, more have come,
lured by the gold shine of coin,
and tower still stood, feared by some,
believed to be abandoned.

The fort rose to power and wealth,
fortune the dwarves have amassed,
too long they were lucky and safe,
they let their war axes rust.

Time has come, that all were proved wrong,
the dwarves have met their demise,
this was the day for them to fall,
the day for dead to arise.

Walls did not stop foul undead wave,
the bridge did not close on time,
and fought for life, the soldiers brave
but all efforts were futile.

Such was the price of dwarven gold
of coin and treasure and jewels.
And tower stands, for men to behold,
and to ignore, for such fools.

(Pour us some wine, buy us a drink,
for that we surely have earned.
Sober and thirsty dwarf can't sing,
at least when we are concerned.)

I am not a native speaker so my vocabulary might be poor, but it's better to try than to do nothing at all.

indeed it is better to try the english is a bit broken but i can understand it its a great poem

[Urist Mc Dwarf]

Run from the shadow run from the light
Run from that that makes you fight
Run from the hate run from the love
Run from the hawk and run from the dove

Run from the pleasure run from the pain
Run from the honor run from the shame
Run from the market run from the house
Run from the eagle run from the grouse

Run from the in and run from the out
Run from the decision and run from the doubt
Run from the young and run from the old
Run from the dung and run from the gold

How can I live when I run
From everything under the sun

Then

Run to the shadow run to the light
Run to that that makes you fight
Run to the hate run to the love
Run to the hawk and run to the dove

Run to the pleasure run to the pain
Run to the honor run to the shame
Run to the market run to the house
Run to the eagle run to the grouse

Run to the in and run to the out
Run to the decision and run to the doubt
Run to the young and run to the old
Run to the dung and run to the gold

How can I live when I run
To everything under the sun?

Then

Run from the shadow run to the light
Run to and from that that makes you fight
Run from the hate run to the love
Run to the hawk and run to the dove

Run from the pleasure run from the pain
Run to the honor run from the shame
Run to the market run to the house
Run to the eagle run to the grouse

Run to the in and run to the out
Run to the decision and run from the doubt
Run to the young and run to the old
Run to the dung and run to the gold

Now I can live

[TD1]

Was rereading Return of the King, so wrote this:

King Theoden the Brave went wandering
Pine trees were blowing, streams flowing.
They came to wood and flowers growing
Beside the road, he went wandering.
Enemies came, fire surrounding,
Knives there were, blood there was falling.
Son of Eorl with lance came striding,
Over foes the Brave man riding
On back of horse came Theoden quickly.
There Light he bore, none more kingly,
And smote he did the evil enemy,
The Southrons and the Witch King’s Army
To Gondor wandered Theoden quickly,
Afore the world grew cold and horse turned sickly.

Wrote another LoTR themed one:

The horn of Merry in the wind of yore
Was blowing through the grasses green.
The horses on its bowl did dance about
And fling their weight about that scene.
No Bullroarer to hold our walls in peace,
But Ent-Draught makes Entlings and Hobbits sprout,
And so came Merry, Sam and Frodo
Singing through the gates in time of doubt.

They came across their fellow man
Who long had sold their souls for rules,
But uplifted were the hearts of the opressed,
When Merry rang his Horn of many tunes!
They flocked around the banner then
To fight the dreaded men.
There Sam, the loyal servant came and rode
The sun upon his mail did gleam and shine,
And through the grasses Pippin strode
A Captain of the Bywater Battle,
A dweller on the banks of the Brandywine
Where waters flow and the Brandybucks did settle.

No foe could stand against those four,
For Frodo also rode that road
Along a lane inside the shire
Without his evil Load.
No Beast nor man, Orc or Hobbit fiend
No harm inside his native land.
The call went up, the weapons they did wield
Were held aloft with calloused hand
And on their arms they bore a shield
That shone a light throughout the land.


@Zlob:
Your poem was good, and I liked it.

[TD1]

I'd appreciate it if more people would post their favourite/liked poems, but regardless here's one I wrote there now:

O’er field and fife, through toil and strife
Along this lane I gladly go.
The lowing of the cows I hear, that stick their heads
Brown-speckled over the hoary gate.
The sparrows flit in multitude,
In hosts most glory-filled with hope,
And know the gift that’s solitude,
A hand to those that cannot cope.

Yellow flowers, green-filled hedges,
Here comes the thunder to tear asunder,
The lines of brown before my eyes
The lines of rutted brown now fill with water.
Oh, little earthly lakes that fill
With water of the heaven’s tears!
For walking down that lane,
The sparrows flit and dive away,
And clouds come rolling in
That drives out sun and fearless day.

But yellow flowers will not dim,
The day will rise again.
So walk and live through sun and storm,
Come Light or falling rain.

[Fabulous death bringer]

My love
He loves me and I love him
But we have not touched.
He is text on my screen
And I, the same to him.

He says “You can do better than him”
I tell him, “You can do better”
He could have any one he wants.
But he wants me.

He is my support, for when I falling down
My happiness for when I am sad.
My company for when I am lonely
If I lose him, then I lose me, for he is my everything.

I am weird, random, socially inept.
He is plagued with many demons,
Many more then what he has told me.
We will remained fucked up, together
Hand in hand.

Made by me, for school, enjoy.....

[Fabulous death bringer]

My Pie
I sit in this café, eating a piece of pie.
At this moment I am the queen.
I am the picture of nobility
 my clothes are now the finest outfit in the city
and my manners are proper.
All the girls
envys my looks
    wish to be me,
while all the men
    feel desires of lust and romance.
Everyone’s job
 is to serve me
and please me.
I am perfect,
until I finish
my piece of pie

another by myself

[TD1]

Tuypo, next time you want to post something else, could you just edit your previous post? I don't want to sound rude, but I don't want double/triple posting to become too common a thing :/

Same applies, I'm afraid, unless some time has passed since your last post

Regardless, I think the Pie one was very well done.

[sjm9876]

To put a name to Tiruin's, it's If, by Rudyard Kipling.

And to follow with one of my favourites:

Spoiler: Invictus (click to show/hide)

Out of the dark that covers me,
black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be,
for my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance,
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeoning of chance,
my head is bloodied, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath, and tears,
looms but the horror of the shade.
And yet the menace of the years,
finds, and shall find me, unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
how charged with punishments the scroll.
I am the master of my fate.
I am the captain of my soul.

Written from memory, so excuse any errors.

[TD1]

Spoiler: Invictus (click to show/hide)

Out of the dark that covers me,
black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be,
for my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance,
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeoning of chance,
my head is bloodied, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath, and tears,
looms but the horror of the shade.
And yet the menace of the years,
finds, and shall find me, unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
how charged with punishments the scroll.
I am the master of my fate.
I am the captain of my soul.

That just became one of my favourites. It's always annoying to me that they can make it sound so effortless, almost easy. I envy 'em.

Ah well, here's another stab at it by me:

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

A tapestry of time,
No cloth so fair nor fine.
A net of woven strands to snare,
A gleam within a dead man’s stare.

Such is love and life,
Yes, even death and strife.
To each this tapestry will weave,
A tale of woe that can not leave.

But also hidden in the fold
Of time there lies some hidden gold-
Some recompense for all you lost,
Repayment for the dreadful cost.

A tapestry of time;
No cloth so fair nor fine,
For though the threads are dark
Its pattern’s not quite stark-

Some white amongst the black,
Some glimmer other weavings lack,
A smell of hope and taste of mystery
Offset by hate and misery.

Both in conjunction do so move
Within no preexisting groove
That time may lie within a fold of cloth
And we would not bemoan the cost.

[mastahcheese]

Dwarfy wants me to post here because he's lonely.
(If you want to drudge my other stuff out of the Writer's thread, you can.)

"So you think your lives aren't watched by the clock?"
He cackles and coughs, sputters and sneers,
"But when you reach the door, I know you'll knock.
I know three times, just like we did here."
And out he pulls his mysterious contraption,
"For the things we had, of knowledge, nothing,"
Meticulously measured, to divine infraction
"And even then, we never saw it coming."

[Arx]

I call these "stupid songs/poems get out of my head I'm trying to sleep". I cannot vouch for their quality.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

His boat floats down the river
Stained from the clearest snowmelt
Forsaking the trees, he wears purple
Living in his halls of stone.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Three AM comes and goes
Like the thistle and the rose
Is there purpose? No-one knows
Watch the moment, feel it flow

[TD1]

Ha, I get that too
Here's the one I posted in this thread:

In dagger hilt a flame of gold,
In silver blade a sheen of light,
On hilt of stone a gem of old,
In old mens’ eyes the gleam of sight.

In heroes’ hands a blade to kill,
In poet’s arms a force to keep
As in our minds a flame is still
That we have yet to reap.

The gleam of sword, the sound of coin,
The heat of flame, the flow of streams,
The heart of yore still beats its rhyme
Where heart and country deems.

Also, they flowed well, and let's face it-most poems are at best nonsensical

[Arx]

And cross-post from The Writer's Apprenticeship to keep Dwarfy happy: 

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Falling. Burning.
Tearing. Yearning.
White-hot sublimation,
Darkness' annihilation.

I hear the world calling
But calling not to me
Crying to the free
Or crying for the free

In the end it's no matter
Who they would have renewed
I am far the stronger
My might is raw and crude.

I will return from the light
Fight back to the blight
There can be no destruction
Of the hammers of night

[TD1]

Poems for the poetry God! XD

Your offering has been considered.

You may not be sacrificially killed.

Here's one I wrote after reading some Dark Tower Books, quite a while back:

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Where once I met a man of steel,
Now I see a flaw.
Where once a gun, a sword or knife,
He has no thing to draw.

His face is lined in years and grief
But blue, ah softly, steely blue!
His eyes are crowned in water’s hue.
Ah, blue, bombardier blue!

This man of Gilead comes nigh
And on his head is sat a hat,
Beside me sits he, and with a sigh
He speaks in voice his father had begat.

“Fools. All Fall, these fools,
While still there is a Beam,
A path to tread, I’ll walk along
And grin, and laugh, and sing.”

This last was bit off, he looked at me.
Blue. His eyes, harpoons struck me there
And all that I could think was:
A hope. A quest, both good and fair!

His chin, hard and stubble strewn,
Was strong, his figure cast a shadow, fell and long.
It twitched, his mouth, a smile shone through;
Ensnared I sat and heard his song-

“The wild will call ‘cross the waste
And you shall answer with your heart.
The land will call for speedy haste
And you will make a questing start!
All felled, these fools, but hear me out!
The Beam is strung along the world!
A strut! Support! A banner loose unfurled!
Join me. Help me. Nay, ne’er whisper, but fearless shout!
Roland o’ Gilead a-questing has gone,
And you could come along.”

Blue. The sea. A craggy face about me swam,
And then he nodded, saw my soul,
Then left that town where I was born;
I went, to quest, to search and to
Roland 'o Gilead am sworn.