Riding a White Horse Ballad

I once aspired to be a poet. During my teens, I filled journals and notebooks with clumsy rhymes, attempting to paint with words and emotions.  But by twenty, all my misty dreams of meter and rhyme faded before the rush of life’s dawn.  I can’t remember the last time I wrote something creative.  Even this blog is just a non-fiction autobiographical day-in-the-life outpouring, for the most part.

My poetic wellspring may have run dry or perhaps my muse is MIA; regardless, I still appreciate a well written verse or stanza.  I was reminded of this when I joined the local chapter of the Tolkien Society.  We have read Unfinished Tales in the last year as well as The Story of Kullervo and The Children of Húrin, which I listened to the audiobook narrated by the late Christopher Lee (highly recommended).  I scoured local second-hand book stores and found paperback editions for the History of Middle-Earth (it is not currently available in ebook editions) including The Lays of Beleriand.   I listened to podcasts and learned about alliterative verse, which is best appreciated when read aloud (as is true of most poetry).

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