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"rivendell" poems
High above and brave; Taunting the waters below. With this bridge we have conquered Open spaces And Time opens its wings To let us pass without aging. Who ages on the bridge? No one. Children are arrested in a state Of wondrous apprehension. The old forget gravity's pull On their brittle bones. It is a marvelous thing that connects Our world to Middle Earth and Rivendell; the great Castle of Gormenghast, Narnia and The fathomless depths of Cthulu; the Temples of the Oracles; the lost rock Walls of the Necropolis; the emerald Towers of Oz; the Memorial to Krypton In the Fortress of Solitude; the waters of Lethe; the expanse of Midgard and the Rainbow Bridge; Mount Olympus; Daedelus' Labyrinth; the Inferno, the Purgatorio and the Paridisio; the dark Forest's of Pan; and the broad field's of Chiron. And the galaxy of stars, of worlds destroyed And created by your Will, that shapeshifter Of Prima Materia that stretches out in The limitless space that is your mind. This ancient construction of arched Rock, mankind's greatest achievement That draws the curious, the adventurous Without verdict or punishment, and gives Them the ability to walk on air, defeating The current of death that rushes Obliviously below.
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Oct 23, 2010
Oct 23, 2010 at 4:12 PM UTC
The Bridge
here's a tale I will tell of the supreme Master of Rivendell 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 Hobbit friend the great ELROND SoulSurvivor (C) 2/5/2016
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Feb 5, 2016
Feb 5, 2016 at 10:54 AM UTC
Elrond
Haiku Secrets fill the air Whispered through the swaying trees Though they make no sound Nature Poem The wind is an unpredictable beast Clawing, tearing, ripping And yet, gentle as a baby's breath Strong, frigid, freezes to the bone Hot, humid, sweltering, offering no relief And yet, can be pleasantly warm or refreshingly cool What it might bring, no one can know The wind is an unpredictable beast Metaphor Poem Euphoria is a green too bright to be real Filled with intensity that's possible to feel It is a heated blanket that has too much power Though it's unplugged, it lasts for an hour! Euphoria is a color that projects too much light It is a blanket that does its job too right! Letter Poem Dear Bel, At first sight, many people consider you a monster. And for what cause? Because you're different? If that were to always hold true, wouldn't everyone be afraid of each other? It's not to say you're perfectly harmless, that's true. But that's why we all admire you. Myself, Legolas, Tauriel, Fili and Kili, even Thorin. Because you are different, special, and quite able to hold your own even against an army of orcs. Not many people can make that claim. How is Mirkwood? Rivendell is the same as always, Though for some odd reason, my father's been in a really good mood. It's really quite frightening. I love you and miss you quite terribly. Please send my best to Legolas, Tauriel and King Thranduil. Ever so sincerely, Sari
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Apr 2, 2015
Apr 2, 2015 at 1:09 PM UTC
Various Forms of Poetry
At Last you are My heart of trees My walls of stone My whisper in the Sindarin wind Like a homely Gleaming Vein of oak   Your limbs a door     Ajar to an eternity        Uncloaked Standing   Naming Rivendell     You are the sun       My palace place         Escape from Angbands hell As dominion fades   Ere does the tide       So does the land         East of Belfalas lie The mountainous trees   Begin and end     With a swell of men       No more to tell At Last you are   My heart of trees     My stone since turned         My sacred dell
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Aug 16, 2018
Aug 16, 2018 at 2:29 PM UTC
My Sindarin Love
I'm back in the world Where nothing makes sense Except this existence In past/future tense In utopian Andes I see ancient temples The Inka my children Move mountains to meet you Build cities to greet you Like Yavin 4 Rivendell Fairy tales come true For Shangri La lenses Through which I have seen through Become the cascading And fuego throat truth spew Of my stoic peaks Where too much green to see blue Is wild and thriving In time is the essence The stench of surviving The sweet effervescence My love evanescent All relative bliss In a world luminescent A powerful cleansing Of flowerful jungles And showers replenishing Buzzing bee bumbles Who ride like the winds As they uplift my wings In a chorus of eagles To harpyist strings Yes indeed we're a breed That is rare and in need Of a high elevation To teach and to lead To share and to spread Every bountiful seed We are young and incredibly gifted and freed By the journeys we take To mortality's edge Then we leap from the faith Of a bungee jump ledge For these trips into falls Are immortal in dreams So sublime and surreal In our consciousness streams As we turn up the offspring The life here it teems And we are the Mother Earth's Ends to the means The rust in the gears Of deforest machines Who dare cut us down From the summits we've reached When transcending the limits Of Heavens we've breached
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Jun 19, 2017
Jun 19, 2017 at 9:11 PM UTC
The Beauty of Banos
With armchair oceans Window territories And cavernous vaults beneath wooden beach Oak and timber, rock and stone Stretched out in the cold of winter contained Find a new home for your quiet feet And in months, when spring born summer ends Fall back into the ease of a rustling sleep With the choice to never begin Beneath a canvas of life Which keeps growing and falling Ever onward and over again
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May 1, 2019
May 1, 2019 at 6:24 PM UTC
A Window In Rivendell