Inverse lines, the lies of mine,
Death of a dream, with much malign,
The death across the old streamline,
My love, with no goodbyes,
Inverse lines, the lies of mine.

Siren ringing, the call of longing,
Death of a dream, no longer belonging,
The death among the warmongering,
Their hate, with no reprieve,
Siren ringing, the call of longing.

Obeisance given, the submission of heaven,
Death of a dream, out was love driven,
The death outside by those beriven,
My loss, with no last glance,
Obeisance given, the submission of heaven.

The thunder hallows the impure night,
I hope someone will set things aright,
Because I will beg rightly
At the feet of the almighty,
For my dream to live.

Here is mine. It's not LOTR's like I planned, but I love it anyway.

God loves one and all, all the same,
Remember this, my sisters and brothers in Christ,
And never think that you aren’t important because of what you have or what you don’t,
Cause we are all great in God’s Holy eyes, each in our own special way,
Every single one of us, not just people high up in the “spiritual food chain”, but sinners too.

Listen to this poem; hear it’s true meaning,
I know it’s hard to believe, that God can think great things about me, little ole me,
Know now, though, that God can…and that God does, believe things such as this.
Even in our darkest times, God believes.

Realizing this, I know that I am truly blessed,
And that God made me for a purpose, for a reason, and that He loves me.
I thank Him every day, for the things and knowledge that God gave me…
Now knowing that me, and everyone else, is great in God’s eyes.

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Just became a college freshman; be on sparingly

Here is mine:-

They were few against many,
completely surrounded by their enemy.
Attack after attack they repelled,
Holding fast their defences battered.

Hope kept them alive,
And together did they survive.
They were few against many,
Routing every last one of their fearful enemy.

The ever-remembered defenders,
At Rorke’s Drift, battle they gave.
Showing courage in the face of their contenders,
And rewarding those ever brave.

Thanks for reading!

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Hello everyone. Since we seem to be missing one or two entries, Ill extend the date by 2 days to the 30th of august.All entries must be in by the 30th of august now, Ill update my first post.
The Lamenter

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"This is the hour of the Shire-folk, when they arise from their quiet fields to shake the towers and counsels of the Great. Who of all the Wise could have foreseen it? Or, if they are wise, why should they expect to know it, until the hour has struck? "

K, time is running out so here's my entery:

Oh how Peaceful was the stream
Following through just like a dream
It trickled down towards a river far
It glowed in the sun, down the river far

The view was so beautiful and divine
The water flow down the streamline
It swayed along down the rivers body
Little fish pulled through, very gently

I walked on the ground towards a field
Then as i got there, i saw it was a shiled
Protecting me from all kinds of evil there
I had found a new hope i did not despair

The wind blew in my softley curled ringlets
My soft little feet were cleaned by signets
I foun myself dressed in a robe of silk
The smallest diamonds were spun on with silk

I felt a like a new person, the bad had gone
The new had come and on me was it all upon
I didn't look back, but staight forward to the light
The evil had gone from me, straight out of sight

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<a href="http://www.arwen-undomiel.com/forum/viewtopic.php?t=20020" target="_blank"><img src="http://i43.tinypic.com/2ias6qf.jpg" border="0" alt="COME AND REQUEST SOME PHOTOS, OR JUST BROWSE"></a>
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ok, this is mine here.

A silver moon rises, argent grey,
And grasses swirls to the rush of wind,
And this man Lock nor bar can stay,
And searches for something, he may never find.

Most of the time, his feet rest not,
His grey cloak in the wind billows,
And very seldom he stays in one spot,
And he strides with a purpose, like a path he follows.

A staff of gnarled wood he holds,
And his weary shoulders on it lean,
And grey his beard, marks him as old,
But he moves with the speed of youth I ween.

And wisdom wide is behind his brows,
Like a ancient king of legend is he,
And his laughter clear, like a river flows,
And he stands upright, as tall as a tree.

And from western halls he roams,
And fills all mens hearts with kindling flame,
And has seen the last shore: where the foam
Of the great sea crashes to shore,and wide spoken is his name.

And after all his labours and hard toils,
His age is ended, and seeks to find his rest,
After a dark lords evil plans he foils,
He leaves: goes Into the West.

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"This is the hour of the Shire-folk, when they arise from their quiet fields to shake the towers and counsels of the Great. Who of all the Wise could have foreseen it? Or, if they are wise, why should they expect to know it, until the hour has struck? "

Well, here is my poem at last. I am not really good at rhyming verses, but still...


Each night

Each night,
I may not find sleep
I may lie, thinking about you
As we first met, long time ago.

Each night,
I may close my eyes
I may see you and smile
As I remember us together.

Each night,
I may hear you laughing
I may look into your eyes
And at the same time wish you were here.

Each night,
I may remember everything,
I may remember each moment
And each second we spent together.

Each night,
I may see the stars
I may think you see them as well
And hope we soon will meet again.

Each night,
I may miss you more
I may miss you beside me
And miss the softness of your voice.

And each night,
I may cry myself to sleep
I may miss you so badly
And my heart aches horribly.

And each night,
I may dream of us
I may see our future, far ahead
And it will be perfect.

And each night,
I know, we soon will meet again
It keeps up my hope
Each night.

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Thanks for the entries, sorry to be a bit late.
*goes to post vote thread*

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"This is the hour of the Shire-folk, when they arise from their quiet fields to shake the towers and counsels of the Great. Who of all the Wise could have foreseen it? Or, if they are wise, why should they expect to know it, until the hour has struck? "