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"baggins" poems
Finally this day has come. To get another go with the sun, A year has it been since the daylight shun. The shadows of Mordor were almost to get me done. What a fine day to have an adventure. Having to save a princess as a departure. The signs are being obvious Birds are flying back to the Mountain, There is no time to be in bore, I need to hurry and reclaim back my Erebor. I’m in wonder of what she is doing. Probably she made plans already by now. Or maybe she didn’t decide on going. Thought that she might be Lonely under the Mountain. I have to get going to save her plain, Must get her out quickly of that fiery chain. But wait, What’s this? My legs are unable to move. Why is my heart trembling with fear? I’ve been waiting for this my entire time, I don’t get it. I don’t get it at all. I’m shaking pathetically, This is getting ridiculously annoying. Move it! Why is my body not responding? I can’t control my body no more It’s totally stuck! Is the sun causing this? But I’m no troll to be affected by this. I’m the Bilbo on this journey, I’m the appointed burglar To steal the precious Arkenstone So what’s happening now really? Am I scared that much That my own body is doing what I should be doing? If this fear is about the journey I’ll take, The dangers I’ll encounter, The perils I’ll meet. That wouldn’t be a serious problem for me not to go. But it’s different. This doesn’t make sense. I need to get rid of this fence. But It’s no use, I’m stuck in this hole in fuse. Stuck in this Shire, While that desolator Smaug is causing fire. I’ve forgotten the time. The shadows are back. Here I am underneath the moon’s refine, Standing still in charcoal leather black Not resisting anymore. I completely stood in my own accord. Tears are spilling down my face. I can feel in my veins the sorrow, And thinking about it made me wonder If I can make it til tomorrow. Then, So sudden it came to me in a flash The reason why I did not move Why I did not meet her. It’s because a year ago I was there. In front of her. My precious Arkenstone Under the Mountains The kings jewel. The jewel that rejected my tiny hands, That reached beyond the Middle of Earth Just for her. The same jewel that replaced me with a greed of a dragon. That burned the glow of what’s inside me. And now I remember it all. Clear as the sky above me. I am no Bilbo Baggins. There is no treasure waiting for me. No adventure as destination. Because this, This is just the Anniversary of my Rejection.
0
Feb 13, 2015
Feb 13, 2015 at 10:06 AM UTC
Anniversary of Rejection
Finally this day has come. To get another go with the sun, A year has it been since the daylight shun. The shadows of Mordor were almost to get me done. What a fine day to have an adventure. Having to save a princess as a departure. The signs are being obvious Birds are flying back to the Mountain, There is no time to be in bore, I need to hurry and reclaim back my Erebor. I’m in wonder of what she is doing. Probably she made plans already by now. Or maybe she didn’t decide on going. Thought that she might be Lonely under the Mountain. I have to get going to save her plain, Must get her out quickly of that fiery chain. But wait, What’s this? My legs are unable to move. Why is my heart trembling with fear? I’ve been waiting for this my entire time, I don’t get it. I don’t get it at all. I’m shaking pathetically, This is getting ridiculously annoying. Move it! Why is my body not responding? I can’t control my body no more It’s totally stuck! Is the sun causing this? But I’m no troll to be affected by this. I’m the Bilbo on this journey, I’m the appointed burglar To steal the precious Arkenstone So what’s happening now really? Am I scared that much That my own body is doing what I should be doing? If this fear is about the journey I’ll take, The dangers I’ll encounter, The perils I’ll meet. That wouldn’t be a serious problem for me not to go. But it’s different. This doesn’t make sense. I need to get rid of this fence. But It’s no use, I’m stuck in this hole in fuse. Stuck in this Shire, While that desolator Smaug is causing fire. I’ve forgotten the time. The shadows are back. Here I am underneath the moon’s refine, Standing still in charcoal leather black Not resisting anymore. I completely stood in my own accord. Tears are spilling down my face. I can feel in my veins the sorrow, And thinking about it made me wonder If I can make it til tomorrow. Then, So sudden it came to me in a flash The reason why I did not move Why I did not meet her. It’s because a year ago I was there. In front of her. My precious Arkenstone Under the Mountains The kings jewel. The jewel that rejected my tiny hands, That reached beyond the Middle of Earth Just for her. The same jewel that replaced me with a greed of a dragon. That burned the glow of what’s inside me. And now I remember it all. Clear as the sky above me. I am no Bilbo Baggins. There is no treasure waiting for me. No adventure as destination. Because this, This is just the Anniversary of my Rejection.
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Call me the greatest adventure of Indiana Jones. Call me the Graeters of tasty ice cream cones. Call me the Ed Rosenthal of relaxing stones. Call me the Natasha Trethewey of meaningful poems. Call me the Pauly Shore of Bio-Domes. Call me the Jack Hannah of Columbus Zoos. Call me the Martha Stewart of delicious stews. Call me the Bob Ross of independent creations. Call me the Dr. Phil of mending relations. Call me the Albert Einstein of mathematical equations. Call me the Captain Kirk of Space exploration. Call me the William Shatner of monotone greatness. Call me the Jim Morrison of open doors. Call me the Mr. Clean of shiny floors. Call me the Hugh Hefner of stupid ****** Call me the Bob Dylan of traveling trains. Call me the Samuel L. Jackson of snakes and planes. Call me the Arm & Hammer of tough stains. Call me the Blade of a vampire. Call me the Froto Baggins of the Shire. Call me the Firestone of a pumped tire. Call me a Christ of ignited passion. Call me a Lucifer of trendy fashion. Call me a Shiva of shattered illusions. Call me a Buddha of peaceful institutions. Call me the Ron Jeremy of KY Jelly. Call me the Emeril Legassi of food for the belly. Call me the Tupac Shakur of spitting **** Call me the Eminem of full sentences. Call me the Smoky the Bear of a campfire. Call me the Jim Carry of Liar Liar. Call me the That Guy of desire. You can even call me an *******
0
Apr 29, 2013
Apr 29, 2013 at 5:20 AM UTC
"Titles, Labels, and Names Part 1: Call me"
This seems to be a lifetime journey I'm sure more than a few can relate Doing my best in this formidable quest In search of the perfect toothpaste From grocery aisles to shopping malls To mom and pop roadside stands Standing in line at the 5 and dime There's no corner that I haven't been Looking for the flavor to which my teeth savor From blue to green to red peppermint I've tried bubblegum and for meat lovers, bacon Even the new cinnamon no rinse But it's not only the flavor that's concerning It also has to do with the foam While brushing my teeth in the morning I look like a rabid dog on the roam So it's back to the store in search of much more I feel like Frodo Baggins the Hobbit From top shelf to floor in this my Middle Earth Until the elusive paste I have got it Yes, my friend like you I'll keep trying For the toothpaste that removes any doubt But until then I'll toss them into the bin Saved up for the day I caulk my house
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Sep 6, 2015
Sep 6, 2015 at 7:40 AM UTC
~Toothpaste~
I used to swear I was born in the Shire right next to Bilbo Baggins. Not because of the allure of being a hobbit, their squat bodies and hairy feet. The shire was refuge from the eye of the witch king. I would rather be an elf like Legolas with a bow of rowan wood Arrows fletched with swan feathers, twin gold inlaid swords, and eyes keener than a hawk. My weapons in this world are a bleeding tongue and rusted teeth Maggot-filled reasoning, an understanding that middle earth is no more. The Shire never happened for a ******* child. The witch king came and raised me proud. Fantasy is all I have left. What could I possibly have for you?
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Feb 2, 2012
Feb 2, 2012 at 2:41 PM UTC
The Fellowship is Broken
Keep the fire bright as stars singe their hairy feet clean a Hobbit is bigger then a rabbit and three times as tasty The best kind are near Mirk Wood they are plump juicy and yummy and as you put them to flame they inadvertently call for mummy Oh what joy on dark trollish evenings to share a morsel or two with friends eat those Baggins squirming kind saving their chubby legs to the end Come toast a hobbit with me they do as well as chicken see how many your tummy will if you try hard to fit in By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
0
Dec 6, 2013
Dec 6, 2013 at 1:37 PM UTC
Toasting Hobbit's
I bet Bilbo Baggins Would laugh at the self-proclaimed; tragic-melodramatic Ass-backwards actors Who proclaim with a loud verse Recited, and well-rehearsed But in secret their hearts doeth curse The Creator; of Universe.
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Jan 10, 2016
Jan 10, 2016 at 6:16 PM UTC
One Ring...
I have an unusual friend. A small man with charms of a gentle redneck. He holds court in his garage for his acquaintances, those free or at large. His demeanour is rustic, but his wisdom self-taught. His name is Byron ( I know, it's too good to be true),  not lordly, but Byron likes the girls and light brew. Byron says, “I'll kick your *** every time we play golf. Not yet. His voice is chasmic and often influenced by distractions. And then on a cold, witch-tit, heathcliffe driving winter's day, with the wood stove well-fired, a rascally friend opens the door, and Byron yells, “Shut the door. Do you think wood grows on trees.” On leaving the same day he advises me, “Don't slip on the ice. It's frozen.” I didn't tell  you Byron has one eye. Better yet, a patch on the other. He looks more like post Frodo  ignoring the “Don't run with scissors" warning from Mother Baggins, than he does Lord B. I dropped my pipe once on his garage floor. A special pipe. It's my bowling pipe. I don't smoke tobacco.  Byron thinks it clever to call me at work and tell my secretary he and I are bowling after school. Byron mixes metaphors. So, my pipe has dropped. Byron says, “ Let me help. Three eyes are better than two.” His cleverness can backfire. I tried to be sensitive, but there was neither an honourable or dishonourable way out. Byron hung an oak wood sign near his stove. He makes his own stain, and rubs it evenly in circles with his wife's old nylons. “It's great for the *********** he'll quip. The two ***** of the sign are joined with leather straps and stainless steel studded to the wood. The letters painted within the stencilled lines are a dark, rich mixture. The joke. “Lift flap in case of fire.” Normally one lifts the flap. “Not now stupit. In case of fire.” I discreetly pointed out the t.The sign quietly disappeared and was never mentioned again. He'll never kick my ***
0
May 29, 2014
May 29, 2014 at 11:59 PM UTC
Byron
I have an unusual friend. A small man with charms of a gentle redneck. He holds court in his garage for his acquaintances, those free or at large. His demeanour is rustic, but his wisdom self-taught. His name is Byron ( I know, it's too good to be true),  not lordly, but Byron likes the girls and light brew. Byron says, “I'll kick your *** every time we play golf. Not yet. His voice is chasmic and often influenced by distractions. And then on a cold, witch-tit, heathcliffe driving winter's day, with the wood stove well-fired, a rascally friend opens the door, and Byron yells, “Shut the door. Do you think wood grows on trees.” On leaving the same day he advises me, “Don't slip on the ice. It's frozen.” I didn't tell  you Byron has one eye. Better yet, a patch on the other. He looks more like post Frodo  ignoring the “Don't run with scissors" warning from Mother Baggins, than he does Lord B. I dropped my pipe once on his garage floor. A special pipe. It's my bowling pipe. I don't smoke tobacco.  Byron thinks it clever to call me at work and tell my secretary he and I are bowling after school. Byron mixes metaphors. So, my pipe has dropped. Byron says, “ Let me help. Three eyes are better than two.” His cleverness can backfire. I tried to be sensitive, but there was neither an honourable or dishonourable way out. Byron hung an oak wood sign near his stove. He makes his own stain, and rubs it evenly in circles with his wife's old nylons. “It's great for the *********** he'll quip. The two ***** of the sign are joined with leather straps and stainless steel studded to the wood. The letters painted within the stencilled lines are a dark, rich mixture. The joke. “Lift flap in case of fire.” Normally one lifts the flap. “Not now stupit. In case of fire.” I discreetly pointed out the t.The sign quietly disappeared and was never mentioned again. He'll never kick my ***
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me : “hey what does love mean to you? how does it make you feel?” him : “Love is something two people share, it’s not something only one person can find. Love is zoning out of reality to find yourself subconsciously visioning you and that person building a life together. Love is taking a chance and giving up the one thing you can’t live without, to build a life around something else entirely. Love makes me feel as if I’m going on an adventure where my safety and well-being cannot be assured. I’m setting out on an adventure where the possibilities are endless. I feel like Bilbo Baggins signing that contract. Towards love I feel nothing less than thankful because I’d not be who I am without it today.” me : “i love you” him : “I love you too.”
0
Dec 9, 2013
Dec 9, 2013 at 12:58 PM UTC
i love you, i surely do
oddly, but not odd enough bilbo baggins fared a better adventure than frodo baggins... complicate your psychology further why so many more hobbits were involved, and why samwise gamgee accompanied the anti-hero to dissolve gollum thus dissolve sauron.
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Feb 22, 2016
Feb 22, 2016 at 10:05 PM UTC
furthered
This is the story of us, we were the heroes and the villains, we were the bravest one, the lions, a tight-knit group, a family so near, the kindred peers, for a hundred years. In your presence, the world feels safe, my steps find peace, through the highs and lows, I miss our journey, together we plowed. We are like Frodo Baggins, Hearts torn apart, fate's cruel hand at play, lives take separate ways, new adventures to lay new friends we now have, fresh memories made, though it all feels different, this is how fate fades, this is the story of us.
0
Dec 16, 2024
Dec 16, 2024 at 5:41 PM UTC
The Story of Us
I am a prisoner to the rings magic, As the elves sing a tale so tragic, A fellowship of friends embark from the city of elves, And on the path to a red glowing hell. He gave me this ring with fear in his eyes, A powerful magic that filled our heads with lies, I must throw it into the fires of doom, No matter the cost, Leaving the shire, i must depart soon. For I am a Baggins, And we may wander, But never get lost. Look for me in the sky, Look for me under the ground, Look for me on the back of an eagle, You will find me going westbound.
0
Apr 25, 2019
Apr 25, 2019 at 7:31 AM UTC
Road To Mordor
Wearing this heavy cape as Superman powered up I started to lose my innocence I tasted the kryptonite I fell from the skies I almost died from an overwhelming flight. The clouds rained. I shattered into pieces I lost two many pieces I fought my evil self. I triumphed Now Clark Kent Resurfaced....Smiling in peace. My double died.. Superman is better,again. He's better educated. Now who's the one who has cried? I carried my burdens until I threw them in life's heated volcano Like the ring of "Bilbo Baggins" This hobbit thrives .in his cave, like "the dark knight" as he defeated the joker. insanity died with his laugh. I carry on as a protector to those That I love and trust. This heart is made of true solid gold. Nothing on Earth can make it rust. This avenger stalks his prey at night. A starving wolf for creation...i endure and acheive. Now ends my fright. For tonight I feed. The hunger as I create. Inspiration and light. I am the next big artistic thrill the world shall receive.
0
Mar 12, 2016
Mar 12, 2016 at 3:15 AM UTC
Superman Part 3
I followed the Pied Piper to the mountain went with Bilbo Baggins on adventure but the mountain closed before I got there while Bilbo's adventures came to an end Two influences two escapes and along came a man called Jesus Jesus who gives the reality to the tale and set me free in real time Over mountains to live out my very own unique adventure.
0
Mar 4, 2015
Mar 4, 2015 at 9:00 AM UTC
set me free in real time
“See you later alligator.” “In a while crocodile.” She cheers back at him before he disappears out of the back door. He is the very essence of what it means to ‘Love thy neighbour.’ He’s a brilliant, kind, quick witted free spirit, living within the shell of an old man. He’s a sinner alright, he loves his whiskey and his cigarettes, he’s always reaching in that flannel pocket of his for his light.
0
Jan 1, 2018
Jan 1, 2018 at 11:47 AM UTC
Bilbo Baggins