General Poetry posted May 30, 2020

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a fantasy inspired by Tolkien


by Marjon van Bruggen

Arched overall alarming nimbus,
magic's disorderly thunder and lightning.

The sage sat in his suburban fastness
garrisoned against progress. He grieved
at what was done to our world and words.

The sage sat and Middle-Earth rose
around him, a rumbling rumor.
Grave grammarians, Grimm and Goethe
gave it laws, granted it garters.

The sage sat. The ghosts walked off,
the Dutch schoolboy, the Somme-soldier
whose bones lay under the hobbit burrows,
who endured darkness, pain, and friends dying,
they left their prints.

The words waylaid in a snow hill-siding.
Coal truck pit-names, grimy, gracious,
Blaen-Rhondda, Nantyglo, Senghenydd.
In these depths, Middle-Earth was mined.

Those were the words in the beginning.

A fantasy inspired by Tolkien.

Marjon van Bruggen.

After reading The Lord Of The Rings (many years ago now) I had several dreams about this Middle-Earth. Sometimes it comes back and I start imagining how it all could have been starting.
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