Disclaimer: I do not own The Lord of the Rings. It belongs
to JRR Tolkien. I do own the rather morbid idea that this poem rhymes about...
ooh...
Introduction Note:
This is not for those who have a sensitive mind to the afterlife. If you fear damnation, that God will never save you if you sin, then this is not for you. This poem is an interpretation of a madman's view of the afterlife. Since he's a lunatic, his visions are very dark and unpleasant. The first verse if very, very, very similar to Edgar Allan Poe's The Raven. I give Master Poe credit for the inspiration of this poem. Thank you.
Ready? Here we go...
The Valley of the Thousand Dead Men
By Naheka
With inspiration by E.A. Poe and
Influence by memories of Joe the Nazgul
Once upon an evening eerie,
He looked out the window, so keen and leery,
For Wargs or Trolls or evil whim,
In fear that death would come for him,
His eyes had bled and his hands had twitched,
Like a spell, a curse, forever bewitched,
Mad we say, we say he is,
He hasn't been sane for fifty-two years,
My siblings and I had laughed at him so,
Our aged grandfather, rocking to and fro,
So morbid, so bleak,
His name we won't speak,
For he's mad! He's mad!
He's been there and had,
Some of us think it's from that old evil, Sauron,
Who grandfather fought against, but his mind is now gone,
From the moments of toil and bloodshed galore,
All in the past, in days of yore,
"Death is coming," he murmured with glee,
But we thought he was scared; it's complete insanity,
"No knows! Who knows the fate of Men,
When death has come, and fate smote them,
Mandos i Valar takes no care for us,
He houses the Elves," after that, he cussed,
"But where do we go? Where has Eru put us?
Do we have a haven or shall we lay in dust?"
His battered cane he took from the wall,
And sat down by the fire, mouth hung in appall,
Our attention was his by gradual timing,
He'd tell us his theory, the one that was rhyming,
This was count number six, heard it thrice last week,
Twice or once by the tinkle of the creek,
He adjusted his seat and turned to us young,
Ready to tell the tale, though his tongue seemed numb,
But he was mad, so we say, so he'll go for seven,
Seven times to tell us his story of ... erm, Heaven,
"It's a valley, a valley, a valley so deep,
And it's home to the place where Men eternally weep,
Everyone is dead there and dead they remain,
Such a place is a Hell where all goes in vain,
Bodies scattered within the labyrinth of tall grass,
In rude manner and hatred, simply pure crass,
It's the Valley of the Thousand Dead Men,
A million more likely, but the question is when,
When did they come and why do they arrive,
If peace and love had once touched their lives?
"I'll tell you why, why we're sent down to Hell,
We're Men, and we're sinners, we're sinners made well,
Corruption and jealousy has lead us astray,
No order or truth, there is no array,
Of government or laws or peace-kept walls,
Our own senses make laws, to it we are enthralled,
We've shaped our world and hurt others in the way,
And when we became our own enemies, was there peace? Nay!
There was war without alliance, or battles thither,
Alas! We still have our own fights down hither!
Numenor has failed and died a brutal fate,
The time has gone, we are late! We are late!
And in the Valley of the Thousand Dead Men, you can hear corpses cry,
You've lost your chance! You die! You die!"
We lost our grandfather later that night,
His own mental visions had given him a fright,
We mourned and cried and loudly wailed,
But grandfather's return came with no avail,
We still hear him coughing and hacking and choking,
Suffocating and dying and screaming and croaking,
In his own visions,
In the Valley of the Thousand Dead Men.
The End
Some of you were not frightened. I know you weren't... but maybe, some of you are. I'd like to know who feels what. Feedback appreciated, especially creative critique. ^______^
Introduction Note:
This is not for those who have a sensitive mind to the afterlife. If you fear damnation, that God will never save you if you sin, then this is not for you. This poem is an interpretation of a madman's view of the afterlife. Since he's a lunatic, his visions are very dark and unpleasant. The first verse if very, very, very similar to Edgar Allan Poe's The Raven. I give Master Poe credit for the inspiration of this poem. Thank you.
Ready? Here we go...
The Valley of the Thousand Dead Men
By Naheka
With inspiration by E.A. Poe and
Influence by memories of Joe the Nazgul
Once upon an evening eerie,
He looked out the window, so keen and leery,
For Wargs or Trolls or evil whim,
In fear that death would come for him,
His eyes had bled and his hands had twitched,
Like a spell, a curse, forever bewitched,
Mad we say, we say he is,
He hasn't been sane for fifty-two years,
My siblings and I had laughed at him so,
Our aged grandfather, rocking to and fro,
So morbid, so bleak,
His name we won't speak,
For he's mad! He's mad!
He's been there and had,
Some of us think it's from that old evil, Sauron,
Who grandfather fought against, but his mind is now gone,
From the moments of toil and bloodshed galore,
All in the past, in days of yore,
"Death is coming," he murmured with glee,
But we thought he was scared; it's complete insanity,
"No knows! Who knows the fate of Men,
When death has come, and fate smote them,
Mandos i Valar takes no care for us,
He houses the Elves," after that, he cussed,
"But where do we go? Where has Eru put us?
Do we have a haven or shall we lay in dust?"
His battered cane he took from the wall,
And sat down by the fire, mouth hung in appall,
Our attention was his by gradual timing,
He'd tell us his theory, the one that was rhyming,
This was count number six, heard it thrice last week,
Twice or once by the tinkle of the creek,
He adjusted his seat and turned to us young,
Ready to tell the tale, though his tongue seemed numb,
But he was mad, so we say, so he'll go for seven,
Seven times to tell us his story of ... erm, Heaven,
"It's a valley, a valley, a valley so deep,
And it's home to the place where Men eternally weep,
Everyone is dead there and dead they remain,
Such a place is a Hell where all goes in vain,
Bodies scattered within the labyrinth of tall grass,
In rude manner and hatred, simply pure crass,
It's the Valley of the Thousand Dead Men,
A million more likely, but the question is when,
When did they come and why do they arrive,
If peace and love had once touched their lives?
"I'll tell you why, why we're sent down to Hell,
We're Men, and we're sinners, we're sinners made well,
Corruption and jealousy has lead us astray,
No order or truth, there is no array,
Of government or laws or peace-kept walls,
Our own senses make laws, to it we are enthralled,
We've shaped our world and hurt others in the way,
And when we became our own enemies, was there peace? Nay!
There was war without alliance, or battles thither,
Alas! We still have our own fights down hither!
Numenor has failed and died a brutal fate,
The time has gone, we are late! We are late!
And in the Valley of the Thousand Dead Men, you can hear corpses cry,
You've lost your chance! You die! You die!"
We lost our grandfather later that night,
His own mental visions had given him a fright,
We mourned and cried and loudly wailed,
But grandfather's return came with no avail,
We still hear him coughing and hacking and choking,
Suffocating and dying and screaming and croaking,
In his own visions,
In the Valley of the Thousand Dead Men.
The End
Some of you were not frightened. I know you weren't... but maybe, some of you are. I'd like to know who feels what. Feedback appreciated, especially creative critique. ^______^