By Les Henson.
I wrote this poem subsequent rereading J. R. R. Tolkien's, The Lord of the Rings after a break of twenty-two years:
The fire clouds rage in the darkened sky,
The mystery man spoke of days gone-bye,
A hundred angels danced on the head of a pin,
And the choir-boys sang of peace within.
The multitude awaited the coming of the King,
The elephant danced and the bells did ring,
A book was burned at the standing stones,
And the trolls gnawed on a bag of old bones.
The wild sea crashed on the wind-swept shore.
The priest chanted verses of ancient lore,
A dozen demons fought to avert their doom,
And the maidens wove thread on a silver loom.
The fierce hordes descended up on their prey,
The white boar leaped at the break of day,
A flag flew high on the castle mound,
And the soldiers sought the one not found.
The black waters roared in the mountains high,
The joker laughed as the moon fell from the sky,
A white witch skipped to the beat of the drum,
And the sailor drank his tot of black rum.
The old enemies bowed at the foot of the King.
The lions stood proud while angels did sing,
A cry went up from the people that day,
And the peace was established and here to stay.