poetry

Some instruments you have to toot
And others make a louder hoot
But best of all, is something small
The tender strings of little lutes

And using fingers or a thumb
It's little strings you have to strum
A tiny sweep, will make it sweet
To play the tunes for everyone

And when you tweak those little strings
Just like the smallest bells that ring
You'll make a tune, that fills the room
And everyone will want to sing

Oh, take a step outside your door
Look around, then take one more
Stroll beyond your garden gate
Wander on, no need to wait

Walk along the grassy lane
Shelter under trees from rain
Help yourself to fruit that falls
Hear the birds that sweetly call

Take a stroll through meadow grass
There's no need for walking fast
Breathe the scent of wild flowers
Keep on journeying for hours

I don't need too many things
I'd say 'Less can be  more'
Joy that only close friends bring
Forever, now and as before.

The Nuisance Hobbit

There is a hobbit that I know
I'll name no names nor ever show
that he annoys me quite a lot
Since Rua too has a soft spot
For this provoking hobbit lad
(Though no one else thinks he is bad).

The pantry's bare of things to eat
while crumbs cover his clean bedsheet.
He's tracked the butter through the hall
and sticky prints cover the wall!
(I don't know where he found the jam,
or why he had to hide the ham).

And X marks the spot
On the map of the wall
I wonder what's there
At the end of it all
This tattered old parchment
Its tales are to tell
So study the lines
And study them well!

It shows a great forest
There's drawings of trees
It's in the top corner
Beside a great sea
And grey shaded mountains
That run in a line
From top unto bottom
I count fifty nine!

The setting of the sun this day
A crimson light it throws
I see ahead, not far away
A patch of ground a-glow

A blaze of red upon the earth
It burns with fiery light
Yet sparks don't fall from out its hearth
Just colours, red and bright

The rippling red it beckons me
And so I venture close
And nearer do I come to see
The visions of a rose

A patch of roses standing tall
With scarlet on thier heads
Illuminating one and all
They paint the landscape red

Come and read a book with me
About the times of history
The book is worn and torn and old
And many stories will be told
We're sure to read of deeds so bad
And many tales, they will be sad
But yet on things we can depend
There may just be a happy end

We'll read a tale of lazy kings
Who never did a noble thing
They sat in castles, counting gold
And left their subjects in the cold

Long have the Shire been in existence

Blooming in colours of green and yellow

The hills have been described in insistence

It is beautiful compared to fellows

The fire in every hearth in each hole

Gives warmth of love and home in each burrow

The feast of the hobbits, six, all in all

A happy and merry place with no sorrow

Oh, Winter's cloak will soon be shed
It's piercing winds are soon to go
And seeds that deep below have led
Emerge from out the melting snow

Appearing from their cosy holes
More Hobbits dare to step outside
Along then garden path they stroll
Where slender stalks now grow beside

The sun it casts its warming hand
And gentle spring time showers fall
To water plants to help them stand
The flowers now are growing tall