"This brand new ring of mine,"
Quoth Sauron the Depressed
"Hath brought me so much woe.
With all of its sweet dreams
Comes nightmares of 'Frodo'."
Quoth his wraith servants nine
"O Lord, but 'tis made of
Gold and Silver divine
And forged by a master
With elven hair so fine!"
"This ring art but tawdry!"
Growleth Mighty Sauron
Though it was in that age
The want of the greedy
The hope of the needy
He did cast it into the bin of garbage.
The Garbage Man Upstairs
Then did descend from clouds
To empty out the trash
The gold ring tumbled out
A scream-a golden flash-
And soaked up the fires
Of desolate Mount Doom
For it reached Middle Earth
From 'Bit to the Right' Earth
And it caused much, much gloom.
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AN: Thought I'd do a light-hearted poem for once. Please inform me if you didn't laugh at this. Otherwise I might torture you with more unfunny-but-supposed-to-be-trying-really-hard-poems.
I also thought that I might try sticking to a 'meter', which in case you don't know, is a rule of how many syllables per line you're allowed in a poem. It's sort of like a rhythm. That's the best I can explain it. I tried really hard, but ended up violating the meter with two lines (see if you can spot them!).
Inspiration: The Lord Of The RIngs universe.
YOU ARE READING
Anarchy
PoetryAnarchy. A swirl of topics: emotions, allusions to history, social issues... And somewhere in the maelstrom comes forth rhymes and prose. Note: If you can't be bothered to read all the poems (quite understandably), I've starred the better ones.
