Beneath a helm of iron stark, a heart of oak resides,
Where courage fierce and loyal flame with stoic honor tides.
Gimli, the Dwarf of mountain-hold, in axe and ring he finds
His purpose writ, a tale of old in noble deeds entwined.
Deemed too young at 62 to reclaim Erebor,
now part of a fellowship about a ring and its war,
no greed for gold, only fair at heart,
his humour quite the opposite of stark.
No Elven grace adorns his brow,
nor words of silver tongue,
Yet steadfast will and purpose now for Gondor’s fate are sung.
With axe held high, in battle’s din, he stands, a wall of might,
Defiance etched upon his chin, a fearsome, glorious sight.
Though laughter booms and tankards gleam, a shadowed past he bears,
Of kin consumed by caverns deep, and echoes filled with tears.
Yet mithril gleams upon his chest, a gift of Elven hand,
A token of forgiveness blessed, a bridge across the land.
With Legolas, the prince of mirkwood,
an unlikely bond he weaves,
Through jest and peril, laughter shared,
in Gimli an elven-friend was retrieved.
For courage knows no race nor tongue,
in battle’s grim embrace,
Two warriors stand, their fates as one,
no one besieges the bow and axe.
So raise a glass to Gimli bold, the Dwarf of noble name,
Whose axe killed 42, in war’s undying flame.
Let his kindred tell the stories on about the Lord of Glittering,
An elven-friend whos heart of gold ended ages of bickering,
Only dwarf who sailed off to Valinor
and defied the longing for
The golden ring.
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Midnight Confessions
PoetryUnveiling the raw truths of growing up under the cloak of midnight. Midnight Confessions is a poetry collection that delves into the messy, beautiful journey of growing up. Of what it feels like being in the moment, feeling the a gut-wrenching heart...
