Poems from the Wild

More poetry based on The Hobbit…
 

A Hill Full of Goblins

In the cunning minds of goblins

There are uncomfortable devices,

Ingenious engines of noise and flame,

Countless contraptions, cold and creaking,

Chains, games, and hob-nailed toes

Made for tormenting their unlucky foes.
 

But the worst such goblin mind

To scheme and snicker in the dark

Is twisted and tumultuous,

Petty, pernicious, and parsimonious,

The very foul and convoluted one

Belonging to his Bloated Highness,

The Great and Mighty Goblin King.
 

He lives under the misting mountains

Where the stone-giants undertake

Rough, rock-throwing revelries.

And he, the cruel Great Goblin

Catches and snatches unwary travellers

To put in his dank, polluted caves.
 

So when you cross a hilly trail

Or take a tunnel far beneath one

Be sure to search it carefully

Lest it be full of Goblin Kings,

Or other old, unpleasant things.

  

The Curses of Wargs
 

The curses of the savage wargs

Are like the howling hexes

That wolves cast upon the night,

Except more dire and unrelenting.

Some curses they learned from goblins,

Ugly magic stolen from the dark.

Some curses they themselves invented

As they prowled through pinewoods,

Stomping on clumps of sorrel

And crushing sweet strawberries

Beneath their calculating claws.
 

New curses they learned from fire

When Gandalf ensorcelled pinecones

And sent uncanny, swirling flames

Amid the Misty Mountain pack.

Those curses, they will remember.
 

Beorn

There is something in the bear

That wants to be a man,

To live in oak-wood lodgings

And speak to other travellers

In the twisting human tongue.
 

But there is something in the man
That wants to be a bear,

To crack the honeyed hives,

To scatter bees,

To knock down trees,

To sit upon the quiet Carrock,

And contemplate the honeyed moon.