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poetry

The Fires of House Windgardens; Some Poetry

Author: 
OOC: Quintyn, ICly by Jonhyde Harrith Claidewyn

Poetry.

'Nuff said.

Read the 'Chronicle Content' area for some more useful stuff than the above.

... Seriously.

Shattered

What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Story

Uilossiel leafed through the multitude of books upon the shelf. Three handsome bookshelves, deftly carved of lebethron wood, stood within her room. Two flanked the large bay window in front of which her writing-desk stood. If she stood facing the window, the third bookshelf was to her right, on the wall beside the fireplace. She had a meticulous system of arranging her books and papers on these shelves. If the placement of anything was disturbed, she felt as if the fabric of the universe had somehow been tampered with, and would not rest until all was in order again.

The Gift

What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Poetry

Oh, let me give to you
A truly special gift
A gift to make you happy
To give your heart to lift
For it's the time of year
To give but not receive
I'll offer you this present
Before its time to leave

So, will it be a picture
To put upon your wall?
A portrait of a dragon?
You'll hang it in your hall!
Or maybe I've been baking
Some food for you to eat?
A pie, or maybe biscuits
That taste so very sweet?

Beautiful Dream

in
What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Poetry

The rain beats on my window pane
Sounding of sleep and comfort
But if I sleep I will dream
Of a land far away

There the clouds will kiss the hills
Golden with their harvest
And streams will shine

Starting Over

in
What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Poetry

The tears we cry fall like rain,
Wetting these story book pages.
They drown the land of our love,
Like as a flood come suddenly and violently
Tearing up the tender saplings that we call
The beginning of us.

The Ballad of Jess and Pia

What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Poetry

Part One

Now sat upon a wooden chair
An aging couple look around
So contented in their little home
And ever fruitful patch of ground
In Staddle now, they spend their days
And ponder how they came to stay

Both Jess and Pia were both raised
In two of Staddle's smallest farms
As bairns they'd play, but when they grew
They'd stroll together arm-in-arm
So soon enough, they were both wed
And came to have their own farmstead

A Poem about Orange

What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Poetry

There was this little hobbit lass
She ever had a tricksy time
For all she really wanted done
Was just to write a little rhyme
But trouble came to call on her
When thinking of some special words
She tried and tried and tried again
But nothing ever rhymed with ... orange!

A Far Away Adventure

What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Poetry

Let us open the front door tomorrow
And start to then walk down the track
But unlike on previous mornings
This time there'll be no turning back

And if we arrive at the river
We won't be afraid now to cross
We'll carry on strolling by water
No concern about us getting lost

Although we may come to the ocean
And take our first glance the sea
We can gaze at the endless blue ripples
That stretches as far as we see

Márë Olori

What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Poetry

This song, curiously, appears to be an Elvish lullaby of sorts. Although the title appears to be written in Quenya, the lullaby itself has been translated into the Common tongue.

Márë Olori

Sweet dreams, sweet dreams,
Let the rivers carry thee,

Sweet dreams, sweet dreams,
'Tis a short good night ode to thee,

Let the light of the morning be captured in thy eyes,
Sweet dreams, sweet dreams,
I shall bid ye good night,

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