The Will to Power

The balrog's motives nowhere get explored
could he aspire to wield this parlous thing?
He's no mere worm, to stash it in his hoard;
a maia'd be a monster with the Ring!
Olorin'd held it once, but let it go;
he wasn't hither-sent to dominate.
The One's not his to wield, or to bestow.
This Age, it's little folk hold their world's fate.
While Gandalf fell, ring-bearer bore it East
through Lorien, where Time seemed not to pass.
unwitting how the mage threw down the beast
returning through his darkness, at the last.
Of all the characters to face the test,

for Tolkien, humble Samwise comes out best.

count no woman happy until she be dead

Andromache endured the fall of Troy;
her heir and husband brutally struck dead.
Awarded to the victor's tween-aged son,
expected to consort with him in bed.
When Paris judged one goddess to be best
set his whole city-state against long odds.
To snatch a wife's a grave sin for a guest,
outraging not just Greece, but all the gods.
Fair Helen turned the heads of all the guys,
except Achilles, far off in the North.
Condemned to always be some master's prize,
a thing of value, bartered back and forth.
As ornamental parts to fill a scene;
the role was perilous, to play the queen.

the editor's art

Achilles let fair Thetis teach his son
fierce hatred for the royal house of Troy.
Andromache had hoped the worst was done
until she met the feral red-haired boy.
Sage Chiron'd taught his father how to heal;
nine Muses taught him song, and dance, and more.
This lion's cub seems not so much to feel
as to subsist on carnage, gore, and war.
It's not enough her lord and son lie dead;
the tyke will never get a proper pyre.
She's now consigned to warm her victor's bed;
her high estate now rides the sucking gyre.
Euripides leaves such a scene off-stage;
what Homer wouldn't treat, he too won't touch.
The hero's scion's plainly not of age;
to picture him with women's just too much.
The artist frames his work with end, and start;
and Homer's still unrivaled in this art.