I am told that Bilbo, before his
Adventures began, would walk, the
Shire to seek the queen of the fungi.
To search was the compulsion.
Driven by taste, for the mysterious
Fruit of the forest floor.
When asked, he would say,
To savour the wild delight has nothing to compare,
To the humble taste of a spud, or sprout,
Just an ecstasy of unparalleled delight.
Knowing you have found the woody nutty treasure.
Of the queen of the forest floor.
Tis the biggest adventure a hobbit needs
To test his might against the mighty mushroom.
But then he had yet to meet ...
A wizard and a dwarf.
© Nick Strong 2014
The voice of silk,
The eye of the devil,
Breather of fire,
Killer of many.
Smaug the dragon,
Sitting in his gold,
The figure of fear,
In the legends of old.
One little hobbit,
Confronts the dragon,
The king on his throne.
I know that had fate not intervened.
You would be here enjoying this with me.
Standing in line with your family and friends.
Waiting for the Hobbit to begin.
I bet you got an eagle eye view.
Watched them create magic.
Did you walk around New Zealand,
Traveling the path of the Fellowship?
Did you stand in that theater,
Laughing along with us?
Enjoying the adventure,
As if you never left us.
And when I finally see you.
And I wrap you in a hug.
Will you laugh and tell me,
Who was your favorite Dwarf?
If I were a cup of black coffee you take me just the way I am.
If this were a thanksgiving dinner you'd be the turkey and I'd be the ham.
I'm the water and you're the sea
I'm the sailor and what I really mean is; you complete me.
If this were a battery you'd be the positives and I'd be the negatives.
If I were a holiday you'd be the festive's.
If this were space you'd be the stars that form my galaxy.
If I were a driver in New York, you'd be my taxi.
If I a flower and you the bee, then it's clear to see that what I really mean is; you complete me.
One ways, u-turns, dead ends and yields, green lights, left lane merge and a squashed bug on my windshields.
If I were a Bic ballpoint pen then you would write out every sin.
If this were it, it would be the greatest love there has ever been.
Road signs and paper, fantasies and nature cannot help to say in such a little way that all I try to convey that what I really mean is; you complete me.
If I were a song you'd memorize my lyrics
If this were February 1990 it would be Hold On by Wilson Phillips
If I were a comic book, you'd be my nerd.
If you were a photographer I'd be your bird.
If I a cold night and you the book by a fire, then I'd be the Hobbit and you'd be my Shire.
If I a cup and you the tea then all there is left to say is...
In mighty kingdoms far away
Grew an elven king, stern and wise
Whose young daughter grew in the fields
with eyes as blue as the clearest skies
Elenir, was the daughters name
who danced amongst leaves like gold
whose laughter rang like a thousand bells
whose fair skin would never grow or old
There a traveller came from mountains
and lost, he wandered beneath the trees
he drank from nameless rivers
and voyaged across the savage seas
They met under the sheets of stars
as she saved him from himself
he touched her hair, felt her voice
and till death, he stayed with the elf
His human life frayed away
After a mere blink of years
She watched and stroked his aging face
and wiped away her tears
And when he passed, she could not bear
the pain that she felt inside
the once swaying trees that danced
felt empty, old and dried
She traveled up to the clifftops
Elenir cried her lovers name
She threw herself into the raging oceans
for her life was never the same
The elven king was despaired to see
the loss of his cherished daughter
He cursed the lands
Set fire blazing
and froze the wicked waters
He hide away his treasured kingdom
and watched as the world around him burned
His soldiers pleaded, his people begged
to not leave the world so spurned
But his heartbreak was too great to deal
The world fell into darkness
and with the once-beautiful Elenirs death
the skies grew black and starless
You've got to take the good with the bad,
smile with the sad,
love what you've got, and remember what you had.
Always forgive, but never forget.
Learn from mistakes, but never regret.
here's a tale I will tell
of the supreme Master
elfin Lord, just and wise
knowledge deep as elvish skies
darkly handsome, unearthly fair
silver circlet, midnight hair
greatest Power for him alone
eyes as deep as river stones
grey and lustrous, holding grace
broad of shoulder, fair of face
aquiline nose, chiseled jaw
Master of the Elves. Their law.
of his mercy his people sing
possessor of the elvish Ring
one of three, such Power possessed
he's the Lord, and thusly blessed
he's seen grief and was forsaken
his beloved wife was taken
to Mordor and was in suffering bound
with the Orcs deep underground
father of the maid Arwen
who's in love with the human King
deep pain of mind, Elrond's aware
that he must leave this daughter there
in human kingdom Middle Earth
for her love has lifetime worth
but Strider will soon pass away
while Arwen has immortal days
though her love's surpassing fine
she will one day weep and pine
without her husband, all alone
for her people will be gone
they will one day sail far
following an elvish star
and of Frodo he's aware
the Hobbit will go to Sauron's lair
generous, gentle, yet supremely strong
he will help Frodo along
elvish war-mail and provision
he directs with great vision
noble King of Rivendell
at once gracious
yet mighty, fell
his word, ever,
is his bond
Take another drag off your cigarette and let the cancer invade your lungs like self inflicted bullet wounds and debate alone on your thoughts some more just like you do on the nights when you can't sleep because there's too much room in your bed.
You don't want to wake up having been destroyed yet again by a massive being who no longer holds any value to you only to roll over and rediscover that you're by yourself again tonight like you have been on multiple other occasions.
You don't want to stare at that empty space and wonder what could be so important at three in the morning that your Hope would have to be 30 miles away from you right now so you can't bury yourself six-feet-under the pain within his embrace so you don't have to feel like that again for a while.
But you do.
You do because that's how it works in horrorland and that damned heart of yours pounding in your chest as you try to regulate your breathing again is only normal.
Although temporary, it doesn't mean it effects you any less. How could he have fucked you up so much anyway?
It's funny because no one knows the truth. They never knew what that monster was capable of.
No one knows he use to lay his hands on your throat and squeeze until you turned blue in the face while you begged him to stop and clawed at his hands with every last bit of oxygen remaining in your lungs.
And maybe that's why you started smoking again, you became so accustomed to not having enough clean air to breathe that the toxicity became a comfort to you.
No one knows that he was three times your size and would use it to his advantage when it came to endeavours of the bedroom.
And maybe that's why you wear so many layers of clothing, because it gives you the advantage of hiding your face under the weight of fabric as the shame came upon it instead of hiding beneath the forced weight of flesh, bone, and fat after you realize what you've gotten yourself into and couldn't pull yourself out of.
No one knows he use to coordinate verbal and physical abuse together against you, like one might mix pills and alcohol to end everything in question, any time you felt strong enough to stand up for yourself.
And maybe that's why you're so much more verbal about your faults now, because as soon as you were finally free of the chains he shackled you with you refused to be treated like anything less of a person with emotional needs like everyone else. Maybe that's why you're so afraid of someone hurting you again that you begin pulling away as soon as you find yourself becoming close.
But try to forget about that for once, forget that beast ever caused you any amount of discomfort in your fragile life and try to remember your Hope.
You've become the light in the dark, if you give up on yourself now after promising you'd never abandon him that would leave you as a liar and that's hardly the way you want to be recalled.
Set in your mind the instances you woke up in a panic, or he even woke you up, and he was there to help you back into a peaceful sleep you could receive beneficial rest from.
And maybe he's the reason everything will be okay again.
Maybe he's the reason you will be able to defend yourself in front of anyone and not just a select few.
Maybe he's the reason you will become quicker with wit.
Maybe he's the reason you'll change as a person, for the better, learning to protect and care for you and your own.
Maybe he's the reason you will be able to enjoy your life again, because he carefully removed the shell from your surface instead of constantly throwing you at the pavement waiting for you to open up.
Maybe he's the reason your guitar will no longer collect dust and the walls will open ears to the melodies you've decided to relearn all the strumming patterns to.
Maybe he's the reason your love of Tolkien will be renewed in a better light than it had been left.
Maybe he's the reason all the bad memories will finally dissipate from your shattered composure and you'll become the strong person everyone seems to believe you are.
Maybe he's the reason you will finally be able to burn those items you hold as recognition for the hands you are not to return yourself to.
Maybe he truly is the meaning of hope when there isn't any left, because he's instilled so much in you after you began losing it over the nights you woke up thinking the horrors would never end that you've begun to feel at peace with yourself.
Only time will tell the struggles or successes that the world leaves you both to face, but with those high hopes you find within each other you won't have to face it alone.
My Estel. My Hope.
I love you.
she had these little hobbit feet
on her lower back a patch of hair
i offered to shave them both off
but she preferred to leave them there
when we ordered take out Thai
she always asks for extra spice
i send her in to pick it up
because they never charge her full price
The owner always winks at her
she says it's kind of creepy
i say baby just play the game
as long as he's giving you freebies
but since you left he always asks
so i told him you moved on
i woke up one morning and found a note
she found some better honey walnut prawn
A friend of mine asks,
“Why do you only ever write about romance lately?”
Well, the answer is quite simple, really. It is because I have tasted it.
I tasted it when my eyes first drank the light from his grace when he stood tall above me
His saturnine windows called out to me behind flesh curtains whenever he spoke, ever asking me to join him in his ecstasy
He, from a distance, darted towards me and pressed our sides together—letting myself melt in the velveteen touch of fabric skin
There was a shower of momentary light that night but only his radiance did I bask in.
I tasted it in the heart of the stone city where usurpers of old stood on polished stone
The Bulwark’s adobe reach embraced our reverie as memories from sleep stories become reality
He, in the confines of that venerable fortress, made me vulnerable for I was secure in his arms
His fingers are in between my own like woven mithril unbreakable lest he broke its bond himself
It is in this kingdom of carven stone and handmade walls that he sang of ardor with a dragon’s petrifying gaze.
I tasted it in yuletide storms where men and women waged war with happiness and grief
When the armies of pain and suffering fell at our clasped hands and cheeks red from amorous verve you said you were to journey home
But you did not let go of my grasp
With me you remained and in your arms I stayed
As the bitter winds of bigoted mouths blew, as the fire from damnation is declared by self-righteous souls, we stood fast in the storm.
I tasted it when he said our love he could no longer endure
There we sat, on a tarnished vehicle, as the last of our love gave into rust
What is frightening to me peeked from his saturnine eyes and he closed his curtains shut for the downpour of despondency was to come
We flooded our façades and the rivers quaked our emotional integrity
He held my hand for one final chance before we ripped our wrappings forever apart and he kissed me tender
Our lips made love—like the first they ever met in weathered heat—for the last time.
I tasted it when I told him “Just do so, when your appetite roars to love me again,” and until now I am waiting.
So, why do I ever only write about romance lately?
Well, the reason is quite complicated, really. But–but it is because I’ve tasted it.
we here in these northern isles enjoy big skies reflecting big seas
and big seas reflecting big skies
and we are made to feel quite tiny, more Hobbits than Humans
which gives some respite from nauseating feelings of false superiority
our egos kept in check by the vastness of where we live,
you could say it engenders contemplation, or a good beginning, at any rate, the feeling of being small in the face of such overarching splendour.