The Ring: A Lord of the Rings Poem

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Imagine if a ring of gold

Could spin spells and tricks a hundredfold,

Starting in a forge of fire

Tainted by one’s great desire.



Tumbling paths fraught with greed

Are numerous in the ones to read;

Fallen masters, tales of woe

Follow this ring wherever it goes,



Landing in the hand of one

Who crawls in caves to avoid the sun.

Driven mad by purest power,

Talking with himself at every hour



A two-faced creature now is he,

Never knowing which one to see.

He keeps his precious close at hand

Until a riddler crosses the land.



A change of master for the ring,

Wait to see what he shall bring.

Can power and greed overtake his mind?

Or destruction of gold will we find?



The tale goes on for many years;

Perhaps the answer is one of the fears.

Everything stemmed from this circle of gold;

At least, that’s how the story is told…

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