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 Nov 2014
Don Bouchard
And you Gollum,
I'd say I am a spinner of apples
Hoping for pies,
A climber of trees
In October skies
And I would be telling
No lies.

And Gollum...
Poor Gollum,
Dweller under the mountain,
Avoider of Orcs,
Fugitive of men,
No longer hobbit,
Eater of pale fish,
You might pause...
Remember just a moment
Hands without claws,
Built for climbing apple trees,
Up in an autumn breeze...
Hands made for reaching
Apples ready for picking.

And you might remember
Cinnamon scents
Of apple tarts and pies
Bubbling fragrant spices
In an oven hot,
Waiting for
A slice
Of cheese,
And your pipe
After.
Apples are made for pies. Come have a slice! (the spinning is done on an old Norpro apple corer/slicer.)
 Nov 2014
Don Bouchard
Not all demons
slither hissing into view,
roar from fang-riddled maws,
slash their way to horrors,
unimaginable....

Grima Wormtongue,
One of our own,
Whispering servant of Theoden,
Enervating counselor of the king's ear,
Luller of restless sleep,
Side-leering gaper of fair Eowyn
from near closed eyes...
Lusting her beauty as Saruman's prize....

Sneaking and sly,
Harmless and weak
in appearance;
Dangerous as arsenic
Green and poisonous
At heart...

A demon?
No less,
No more.
A tool of the Lord?

A weakener of resolve,
A hardener of arteries,
Caster of doubt and fear,
Prince of febrile inaction,
Luller of all dreams noble,
Fool and leader of fools.

Worthy of death,
Gifted with banishment,
Eventual giver of Palantir,
Unwitting knife of justice
At Saruman's throat...

A demon?
No doubt,
But even so,
Luther maintained
That even the devil
Was God's devil.

Grima Wormtongue,
Unwilling tool
Of the Almighty.
All things work together....

— The End —