J. R. R. Tolkien

Songs

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A Golden Shovel poem, after “Prayer (I)” by George Herbert

In Tolkien, creation comes by a
Song sung by one strong and kind,
Kind in his sharing of
The song, strong in his control over the tune.
Even enemy melodies, which
Affect all things, all souls, all
Stories, cannot unmake things
More deep and more true. You can always hear
Hope, can still sing your part and
Join the song that shatters fear.

Photo by Isaac Ibbott on Unsplash

For more on the Golden Shovel form, click here.

To read Herbert’s poem, click here.

Influences

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And thank you, Mister Lewis.
As I above your pages blink,
Your words encourage me to think,
To follow you right to the brink
Where truth can pierce right through us.
Yes, thank you, Mister Lewis.

And thank you, Mister Tolkien,
For he who finds you on these shelves
Will soon encounter orcs and elves.
Still my imagination delves
Into your stories so keen.
Yes, thank you, Mister Tolkien.

And thank you, Edgar Allan,
For books that bear the mark of Poe,
Though oft macabre, still serve to show
A master’s mixture: beauty, woe.
I feel the raven’s talon.
Yes, thank you, Edgar Allan.

And thank you, Mister Shakespeare.
Iambic pentameter tells
Your tales, and each with grandeur swells.
Of deaths and weddings, blood and bells,
You speak, and I lend my ear.
Yes, thank you, Mister Shakespeare. 

A Small Ring

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As the fellowship makes its way across the pass of Caradhras, their course set for Mordor to destroy the ring of power, Frodo, the ring bearer, loses his footing and rolls backward down the mountain before being caught by another in the party. In the fall, the ring slips out onto the snow where it is picked up by Boromir. As Boromir holds the ring up before his eyes, he wonders, almost to himself, that a tiny ring is the cause of such turmoil among the free peoples of Middle Earth. Boromir, who desires to defend his people against evil, wonders why the ring cannot be used for good, why it must be destroyed if it possesses such power. Continue reading →