Poetry.com, and I thought I'd never make it!

[Narinya_Cocachitawa]

Who knew what junk e-mail could get you?

It got me a copyrighted poem in my name in two books and on cd. Now, I might get a second poem like that.

If it hadn't been for Tolkein, though, it never would have happened.

Not long before the LOTR movies came out, my mother had me reading the books. Now, I'm writting fan fiction for it and more.

Poems and songs, stories, and little notes for later on. One poem got me in the place I never thought to get.

The Ruin of Valinor
Copywright: Adrianne Lea Mayes
Tuile a Laire
u-miri oiale

Yavie a Hrive
lamma Nienna nala

u-Valier tela
u-moe nia atani

Pennich Valimarant
miri oiale Tuile a Laire

Aiyo loth en Yavanna
wannath a nir dagath

Spring and Summer
are nolonger forever

Autumn and Winter
force Nienna's whimper

Yet not even she can heal
the dammage man kind deals

Once it was fair Vallinor
ever Spring and Summer

Now the fullness of her flower
death and sickness will soon devour.

Hopefully, this edited version of the second poem will make it as well:

Running
Running, running.
Always running for the Great Return.
I will go again to my home,
Where the water will quench my burn.
With me, the others will make the turn.

Running, running.
Always running to the sky.
The place where my heart soars,
Up and above the clouded mountains high.
Only there can our Power truly fly.

Running, running.
Always running to that gleem,
That only we, other than the readers see,
Where the kings and queens the faithful prowdly deem.
The land that manny call a dream.

Running, running.
Always running into the wood.
The second clocest thing to my home.
The place where the smallest person could,
Only do what fate said he should.

Running, running.
Always running to the map,
Of the place that I,
Can again smell the sweetest sap,
And where the king of the skies, his wings proudly flap.

Running, running.
Always running from that fatefull cry.
The one that settled once deep in my soul.
For it belongs to the gull, the one who surely needs not hard pry.
To resist it is folly to even try.

Running running.
Always running from the past.
It aches within me,
My memories even after this long last
Day when I can only use the power to see with the flowers into the water cast.

Running, running.
Always running from myself.
I sit and think,
Never leaving the book shelf.
Yet never can I leave, the elf within myself.

What do you think?

[Pirate]

Those poems are great but I'm have to tell you that Poetry.com is a wee bit of a scam. Everybody get's published. Poetry.com makes money by people buying a copy of a book to see thier name in it. My friend was published, I've been published, My cousin was published, and her friend was published. There was someone who wrote a poem about how that hated poetry contests and they were also published.

But on the bright side, you write excelent poetry

[Narinya_Cocachitawa]

I see. A bit like publisher's clearing house then.

Thanks though.