"palantir" poems
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.
Oct 31, 2014
Oct 31, 2014 at 5:16 PM UTC