How did you feel about the end of the books? - The Barrow-Downs Discussion Forum

Child of the 7th Age · 06-27-2002, 12:35 AM

The last time I reread the book, which was right after I saw the movie, I felt so shut out from the magic that I sat down in frustration and wrote this poem. It's not a great poem, but it tells exactly how I felt.

Colours of Middle-earth

A world I've never seen holds me dear,
Something from beyond etched in grey,
I stand as exile on a distant shore,
With small hope to guide my way.

I smell the sweet brown loam of the Shire,
I am certain of the round green door,
I can sense the rhythm of the great Red Book,
Whose tales I long to explore.

The soft yellow of elanor,
The pale gold of a mallorn tree,
Mist of silver on mountains high,
These still cry out to me.

Something in me belongs back there,
But I can not get through,
Something in me needs the colours of that world,
Which hold so clear and true.

But, as my eyes raise up,
To catch its rainbow dawn,
I blink, I turn, and, in a glance,
Its colours soon are gone.

And I am left behind,
With faded grey and white,
Memories of my mythic past,
Locked in a mirror of light.

sharon, the 7th age hobbit

06-27-2002, 12:35 AM	#23
Child of the 7th Age Spirit of the Lonely Star Join Date: Mar 2002 Posts: 5,133	The last time I reread the book, which was right after I saw the movie, I felt so shut out from the magic that I sat down in frustration and wrote this poem. It's not a great poem, but it tells exactly how I felt. Colours of Middle-earth A world I've never seen holds me dear, Something from beyond etched in grey, I stand as exile on a distant shore, With small hope to guide my way. I smell the sweet brown loam of the Shire, I am certain of the round green door, I can sense the rhythm of the great Red Book, Whose tales I long to explore. The soft yellow of elanor, The pale gold of a mallorn tree, Mist of silver on mountains high, These still cry out to me. Something in me belongs back there, But I can not get through, Something in me needs the colours of that world, Which hold so clear and true. But, as my eyes raise up, To catch its rainbow dawn, I blink, I turn, and, in a glance, Its colours soon are gone. And I am left behind, With faded grey and white, Memories of my mythic past, Locked in a mirror of light. sharon, the 7th age hobbit __________________ Multitasking women are never too busy to vote.