Summary: Thoughts of the men of Gondor
Disclaimer: nahh I wrote the poem I do nto own the men.
Two sons Denthor had one a warrior, one was not.
One was revered while the other was forgot.
With his wife left his gentle caring side.
Now his face was bitter, his comments snide.
The palantir had robbed him off all sanity of mind.
And had transformed him into someone unkind.
One son was sent to return the ring to him.
The other son was told he did nothing but sin.
The tears upon his face did not melt the cruel man.
He waved him off with one shift of his hand.
Did he not see the love in Faramir's eyes?
Did he not see the tears he cried?
Only wanting acceptance, nothing more,
Begging for it as he walked to the door.
Yet he got nothing for all his efforts were in vain.
His father's grief had made him quite insane.
He should have loved his last remaining son.
But he did not and what is done is done.
Now he stares down into pain filled orbs.
As his body was dragged through the door.
Fear and pride overbearing all rational thought.
A pyre and fire Denethor now sought.
Ablaze he set himself and his son to die.
A cowards way out is what he tried.
He did not plan for Peregrin Took to come.
He yelled, "You will not rob me of my son!"
Burning Denethor realized only too late.
That death would only be his fate.
He ran open arms to face death.
And Denethor drew his last breath.