Poem:
For Lalaith
After the laughter, little sister
Where did you go?
The night-time came
On a dark wind's hame
And blew you away.
Under the thunder, little sister
Were you frightened?
The clouds played a game
Like children, the same
But when they went you did too.
A sneeze in the breeze, little sister
Did it catch you?
That hot wind, though brief
Had feverish teeth
One bite and you slept.
Your head in the bed, little sister
Where has it gone?
My laughing child
Has left me to wild
But where - oh, where?
You have fled from the bed, little sister
But where did you go?
Mother says you died
I know, for I cried
But where did you go - after?
No.....already was....😖hifty:
Another Poem:
For Morwen
Lost: father, mother, sister, home
Location: dim downs of enchanted mist
Where adoring on our hallowed loam
Her - cold, pale, fair - I kissed.
Home, sister, oh mother dear!
With timid heart I yearn for thee
And you, heartless, without a tear
Turn away, say, "Farewell, as well may be."
Creaking gate, why bar my path?
You, too, cast off what once was dear
Wearied lover, heedless of the aftermath
Your loving treachery, then opaque, now clear.
Mother, Mother, hear me call?
No answer came, the hills fell still
Send off your son, so dark and tall
May he become a man - think, drink, kill!
Dearest dusty, cobwebbed hall
Do you remember me, my speech?
To rotted ruins you fall, I fall
And shrinking, groaning, moan a screech.
Mother - white hands, face, blurred to grey
Have you misplaced your face, or it is lost
In imperfect mirrors where Memory deigns to play:
Giving, taking, building down - but not without its cost?
Home, house, misty echoing hills!
If I go not to you, come you to me?
Wavering, trembling, a tear that spills
And burns eyes, lips, heart, and cannot see.
Mother - why so stern, lips thin, cold?
Not angry with me, surely, with your own
Little ancient boy - now so old, so old!
I go, don't scold, bearing alone my soul of bone.
Ah! and battle cries, the fire sighs up to the skies!
Burning, I leave in burning trance with longing glance
The fireflies to hack, ravish, loot - my eyes
Cast down; the maddened dance with my breast of sorrow's lance.
Cold Mother, did you freeze the flame?
One haughty stare and flash of scorn
War sees you, whimpers, flees in shame
Yet me you dare not keep. I go, forlorn.
And hills, bare, drowned in Morwen's icy sigh
- yes, Mother, you are the lady Winter, pure, so wise! -
There yet I hear, the echoes lost, my own last cry
Túrin's own, hated last cry, which I disown, despise.
Do you remember me, your son?
The one you cast off long ago
The one whose snared, blind feet must run
And running know they are too slow.
Disreputed bramble I, battered, delectably dark
Dismissed, disgusted, roam alone this homeless trail
And each footprint bears the damnéd mark
Of one who flees, fights, and must fail.
Originally posted by Manôkhâu
Poem:For Lalaith
After the laughter, little sister
Where did you go?
The night-time came
On a dark wind's hame
And blew you away.Under the thunder, little sister
Were you frightened?
The clouds played a game
Like children, the same
But when they went you did too.A sneeze in the breeze, little sister
Did it catch you?
That hot wind, though brief
Had feverish teeth
One bite and you slept.Your head in the bed, little sister
Where has it gone?
My laughing child
Has left me to wild
But where - oh, where?You have fled from the bed, little sister
But where did you go?
Mother says you died
I know, for I cried
But where did you go - after?
I used to think that I was Lalaith...😑
Then I was Nienor because....I felt like it 😬
Then I became Finduilas cry
and am now Miss Evenstar entirely against my will 😒
The last:
For Túrin
In searing sunlight by the river, racked by sumptuous shuddering shiver,
Close I clasp to me the giver of what will be, must be, the end.
A moment yet I pause to wonder: is this not the final blunder?
That I cleave myself asunder - the spirit to its rest to send.
The endless rest beyond the end.
At my black blade palely peering, there I glimpse my own face leering,
To my surprise the wild eyes fearing - fearing the last depth to descend.
Though this world be empty, hollow, still some last voice whispers "follow!"
Fleeing that sharp, deadly swallow of the poison of the end.
The black poison that will bring the end.
From countless wounds my soul has bled, my every loving comrade fled,
And every path of mine has led, inevitably, from bend to bend to bend.
In place of wine I gorged on pain, laughing in the torturous rain
Of each new torment I might gain - as if myself I might amend
With anguish, and postpone the end.
Through salty shards of splintered amber, ringing spectrous yet the timbre
Of those souls this maddened rambler sent untimely to their end,
Wavers ghostly snowy Mother, at her side steps wood-clad brother
Followed mute by every other - their footsteps soft blithely portend
Atonement now - then comes the end.
In my hand the dark star cursed, the black blade breeds unwholesome thirst
For blood - let this then be the worst, the best service it may still lend:
To sink into my guilty flesh, sever aching, tear-soaked mesh
Of soul that throbs with pain afresh - my soul which can no more pretend
That this, here, is not the end.
Come then, Gurthang, bearer's bane! free from bondage Doom's dark thane!
Heal with blood the lingering pain that no other means may mend.
Spill my life upon the earth; Fate, have done thy thunderous mirth,
And take what paltry, bitter worth from my corse you may defend.
Here, alone, at Túrin's end.