Balin’s Tomb – a poem about fright and anticipation

by Sep 30, 2003Poetry

drums in the deep
drumming as my heart does
inside of me, I weep

For I know,
I know that they’re coming
Their torches are lit, they are ready
All my courage I am summing

The ground beneath me shakes
Or is it me that is trembling?
Flickers of feeble light appear
The dark ones are assembling

Where is Balin
whenst we need him most?
He is taken, gone
Taken by the evil host

Cries ring out
echoing off the stone
their lust for battle rises
it chills me to the bone

They are coming now
I hear them loud and clear
There’s no doubt about it
We can’t get out of here

Yes, indeed we are trapped
Stuck in a prison of stone
But we must stand and fight
For we stand alone

They approach ever slowly
Or so it seems to me
For every minute that passes
I live a year or three

Standing my ground I am ready
may sword slash angry foes
They have arrived, they’re here
Their fetid forms I oppose

I raise my sword for freedom
for victory
for the riddance of evil
and for a red dawn


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