The Neverending Poetry Story [for all]

Original writings and artwork by Tolkien fans.
New Soul
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"Very well, then!" proclaimed the cow,
"To the next one who states it, a new name, I vow.
Tell me what my new name is to be-
And don't forget the key lime and blueberry."
they/he/mischief

Black Númenórean
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“Your name shall be Bob,” said Dwim.
“It fits a cow who’d take a new name on a whim.”
Bob the Cow nodded. “Thus my name is renewed!”
And for the occasion, Dwim brewed a new brew.
she/her | Esta tierra no es mía, soy de la nocheósfera.

Black Númenórean
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His brew was strong, his brew was rich
His brew was not made by a witch
But by a Hobbit, name of Stitch Dwim,
Who called his beer upon a whim:
Image
Evil is a lifestyle | she/her

New Soul
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"I name this beer McBob McFee,
And henceforth shall his anthem be-
The following song which now I sing;
Listen close, let voices ring!"
they/he/mischief

Black Númenórean
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"McBob McFee, what a merry brew was he!
He'll make you feel like you're out at sea
With legs a-wobble and head torn asunder
By tiny sounds that sound like thunder!"
she/her | Esta tierra no es mía, soy de la nocheósfera.

Storyteller
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The villagers, they flocked from a nearby town.
For they wished to sing and dance and drown
In deep, golden rivers of this brand new ale.
"Don't fret," cried Dwim. "I've got plenty for sale!"

OOC: (McBob McFee is alive! https://lotrfanaticsplaza.com/forum/vie ... 450#p10450)

New Soul
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The cow decided to visit the Shire,
For he needed to find more brew names to inspire.
It was cleared he had found his calling, his role-
It was time to head to that wonderful shirehole.
they/he/mischief

Black Númenórean
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Bob the Cow began to prance around,
Stomping his hooves so they shook the ground.
He couldn't wait to get away from it all
And meet a people famous for being small.
she/her | Esta tierra no es mía, soy de la nocheósfera.

Black Númenórean
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So small indeed they scarce reached his knee
For Bob the Cow was of a giant breed
Towering high over hobbit man and child
His eyes and horns so fierce and wild
Image
Evil is a lifestyle | she/her

Storyteller
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The Bounders, they bounded to the Shire's edge,
"Wild Bull, begone! Do not pass this hedge!"
Yes, of their home the hobbits were protective,
But to them the cow then gave this directive:

New Soul
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"Very well, I shall leave, if that's what you wish;
But first you must find me my cat and my dish,
My fiddle, my dog, and the spoon!
For now it is time that I go back, and jump over the moon!"
they/he/mischief

Black Númenórean
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The Bounders confounded, they scratched at their heads -
For the cow's new request had filled them with dread.
The dog was a werewolf, the cat vicious and mean,
And the dish and the spoon had never been seen.
she/her | Esta tierra no es mía, soy de la nocheósfera.

Storyteller
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They decided that this was just all too hard.
So instead they let Bob march in past their guard.
Ice Queen and Dwim followed closely behind,
Finding a good pub the main thing on their mind.

Black Númenórean
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A good pub can be a hard thing to find
Like just the right cheese with just the right rind
But when you find one there's naught to compare
Whether it be deep in a hill or open to the air
Image
Evil is a lifestyle | she/her

New Soul
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But a good pub, find they did-
And within it, treasures hid.
For that's how dragons their time bide,
Especially those who are green of hide.
they/he/mischief

Black Númenórean
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They settled right in with their food and their mead -
it had been a long day; on that they agreed.
Bob the Cow did declare, "What a time we have had!
Now my adventures might just stack up with my dad's."
she/her | Esta tierra no es mía, soy de la nocheósfera.

Storyteller
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"But this in't no place for 'ventures!" barked Mr. Pimple,
A hobbit who thought life should be plain and simple.
Cows and queens; this night was not as he'd planned,
So the silly old codger decided to take a stand.

New Soul
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"I'll fight you, Bob the Cow!" he cried,
And he rolled up his sleeves and his hair back he tied.
"Let's have a good old fashioned brawl,
Right here, right now, in this pub hall!"
they/he/mischief

Black Númenórean
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"Settle down, settle down," said the brewer called Dwim.
As he'd brought the cow here, damages would be on him.
"Everyone have a seat, take a deep breath or two!
Mr. Pimple, I'm sorry for any trouble we've caused you."
she/her | Esta tierra no es mía, soy de la nocheósfera.

Elven Enchanter
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Asked Mr Pimple, "Why have you brought such oddities here
To my humble little pub. I thought it was clear
That unordinary guests are circumspect at best
And I am certain that that cow, has many a pest."
Image
Artanis / Éomund / Brandor / Zarâm

Storyteller
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"Quiet, old Pimple!" yelled Dwim with frustration.
"Sit back down now, you grumpy crustacean.
This cow is here as my distinguished guest
To name our brews, so let's show him our best."

New Soul
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So Pimple, with a grumble, brought forth the first brew-
And without hesitation, Bob yelled out, "It's named Honey Doo-Doo!"
The pub people were astonished at the skill of this cow,
He could sense brew names instantly, but none could tell how!
they/he/mischief

Black Númenórean
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The crowd gathered 'round; they ooh'd and they ahh'd!
They wondered if this might just be a facade -
For who'd heard of a cow with such naming prowess?
"I challenge thee, cow!" cried the Naming Countess.
she/her | Esta tierra no es mía, soy de la nocheósfera.

Storyteller
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With a wicked cackle, she sauntered into view,
While Pimple panicked to present a new brew.
The Naming Countess, quite harsh and serious,
said, "This one, henceforth, is named Lord Beerius!"

New Soul
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"Very well," said the cow, as the mood grew fouler,
"I'll take you on; bring out the next growler!"
The room was cleared, and all held their breath,
as the Cow exclaimed: "I name it: The Hops of Death!"
they/he/mischief

Arien
Arien
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All gasped at the name.
Was there poison within?
If so; who was to blame?
Whose was the sin?
cave anserem

New Soul
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"Now, take a drink!" saideth le cow-
"We have a new contest now.
For unbeknownst to Mr. Pimple the pain,
He'd spent the past few years building up an immunity to iocaine
they/he/mischief

Storyteller
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But the Ice Queen knew that Bob was immune,
And suddenly thought him a violent loon.
"Murdering Pimple... is it the only way,
We can enjoy a peaceful drink this day?"

Black Númenórean
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"Come here, Mister Pimple," the Ice Queen then crooned -
She knew he'd be better to tame if he'd swooned
'Neath the weight of power from the frigid wasteland.
With a smile on her face, she extended her hand . . .
she/her | Esta tierra no es mía, soy de la nocheósfera.

Storyteller
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Taken quite aback, Mr. Pimple did then flush -
On the Ice Queen he certainly did now crush.
He took her hand and yes it was cold,
But it was the first he'd ever held, if truth be told.

Black Númenórean
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Ol' Pimple was hoping this date would go well
"My lady, what is your true name, pray do tell?
And what are you doing in here with that cow?"
He gazed into her eyes, concerns banished - for now.
she/her | Esta tierra no es mía, soy de la nocheósfera.

New Soul
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But the cow was quite jealous; he could not let go.
He'd thought that this ice queen would date him, and so-
He stood with a bellow on his two back legs
And let out a hollering moo that began to shake kegs...
they/he/mischief

Storyteller
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Then Mr. Pimple with wobbling knees,
Put fear aside to impress his new squeeze.
"Bob the Cow, quiet that shameful mew,
Such a sad noise is unbecoming of you."

Black Númenórean
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The cow hung his head; he glanced all around -
Then shut his mouth up to muffle the sound.
A flush on his bovine cheeks grew like sunburn.
Now for a cow girlfriend he hoped and he yearned.
she/her | Esta tierra no es mía, soy de la nocheósfera.

Mahal
Mahal
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And there she was to his great surprise,
A pretty young heifer named Eldorise.
She had long eyelashes and little round ears.
Her best feature, though, was in the rear.
The world was fair in Durin's Day.

Bard of Imladris
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Bob straightened his shoulders and tossed his head
Swished his tail with a flourish and stammeringly said,
"My lady, my lass, I'm B-b-bob, if you please.
At your service, my beauti--" then he sneezed a great sneeze.

Storyteller
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"Well met, B-b-bob," she shyly uttered.
For her whole life, she had sadly stuttered.
And that was when she did realise
That he'd altered his name to sympathise.

Black Númenórean
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"Your eyes - how they sparkle! Your nose - it's so cute!
I bet you've a great sense of humor to boot.
Would you care to squire this cow maiden about?"
Bob saw now his chance for his features to tout!
she/her | Esta tierra no es mía, soy de la nocheósfera.

High Lord of Imladris
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Well this is a perfect storm
Haikus are my top form...
I found yet another egg
on this I will not reneg
Sereg a Dîn

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