Gah! I just realized that I posted the same poem twice! A pox upon me, for a knave. Wait! No Shakespeare, now. Anyway, here's the REAL second poem. Enjoy!
Éowyn #2
Stern, yet fair of face was she
As cold as the moon on a silver sea
Eyes that were hard, a blue glint of star
But burning with love that fate could not marr
Lips pale and thin, delicate but strong
Set with worry where there should have been song
Pallid hands folded gently on a raiment of white
But keen to grasp a sword and fight
A willful heart, by fear not smothered
Subdued not by pain, nor by death deterred
A soul hardened by too much hurt
But longing for recognition, for love, and for worth.
Orc
Enemy of good
Hissing filth intent on death
Bloodthirst in cruel eyes