#dwarf poet

[druidicentropy]

Abcán

According to Irish mythology, the Tuatha Dé Danann, the ancient Celtic deities of Ireland, included the dwarf poet and musician Abcán (spelled Abhcán nowadays). It was rumoured that he owned a bronze boat near the Assaroe Falls with a tin sail.

The dwarf Abcán is the one who transports the goddess Ruad from the Otherworld to this one in the Ruad death story, so that she can entice the human Aed Srónmár. She jumps into the water, drowns, and hears mermaids singing—or, in other versions, music from a fairy mound.

In another tale, Cúchulainn the hero, captures Abcán. He sets himself free by lulling the warrior to sleep with such an irresistible melody.

The dwarf musician Fer Í and Abcán are very similar, and Abcán may even go by a different name.

The Encyclopedia of Celtic Mythology and Folklore says he's either a god or not.

[slouchingwriter]

Working on the book cover for my next book, Packing my records for Mars - a sci-fi dystopian poetry book with hopefully some graphic art illustrations but…I can’t decide on which cover to use (to sign or not to sign??) Pls help (Also you can probably tell I draw a lot of my inspo from Red Dwarf 😂)

[raidermomma]

I have come to realise that recently I have been writing, not necessarily for myself, but for what I think people want to read.

For this reason I am taking a step back from posting regular updates on ao3 and writing the scenes I want to write without any self-imposed pressure.

[boomalope-pope]

You wouldn't last an hour in the asylum where they raised me

[thing-in-opposition-to-itself]

Sonnet 6

I was a rumor around the village

Palace for deformed dwarves avoiding fines

A witch they long ago failed to pillage

Not by any impressive feat of mine

I encourage misfits to luck out here

Not everybody is granted such grace

The New World punishes those who are weird

But here we don’t take our blows to the face

All I wanted was for us to be safe

After I found here I just had to share

Townspeople’s hateful gossip my skin chaffed

Couldn’t leave like tortoise, had to be hare

The water out here heals our skin so raw

Monastery for those running from the law

[porphyriosao3]

Day 11 - Poet

Bilbo loved the Feast of Sunreturn; he always had, even as a faunt.  The winter cold was beginning to set in, yes, but it was still new enough and cellars were still full enough that it was exciting rather than worrisome.  The evergreens hung on all available surfaces made everything look festive and bright, and the candles and bonfires to welcome back the newborn sun in the darkest night were a joyful presence. 

Needless to say, the dwarves had their own take on the festival - living beneath the mountains, the seasons were not as relevant and it was always light in the kingdoms below with their seemingly infinite lamps.

What made the dwarven version of the feast worthy was that for the only time in the year, Thorin (and even more joyfully, Bilbo) didn't have to wear crowns and robes, all the regalia and pomp of their position getting in the way of any normal interaction.... no, for the three days of the feast, they were just treated as normal people, and it was so terribly pleasant the hobbit could barely wait each year.  They were still protected, of course; wouldn't do to have royalty subjected to the common brawling, for example, but even so!  Free to wear regular clothes outside the royal quarters!  Being able to serve himself his food!  Being able to go visiting like a normal person!  Oh, it was everything he had never thought to value and didn't realize how much he would miss, all at once!  Thorin gave amazing and deeply thoughtful gifts, but if Bilbo was being honest, he found the freedom to just be a plain hobbit for a bit to be the most joyous of all.

Which made Thorin's behavior as they entered the Great Feasting Hall that much more unusual when they walked in and Thorin immediately grabbed his arm and tried to turn him around.

"What... Thorin!  Let go!  What has gotten into you?" Bilbo said crossly, snatching back his arm.  A suspicion crossed his mind, but... "Is Dain here?"

"No," Thorin groaned, "worse."  This was news to Bilbo.  Fairly alarming news, at that.  Worse?  Dain was capable - more than - of causing chaos up to and including setting fire to the dining hall, so Bilbo had to take this seriously.

"Tell me," he sighed.  "What's going on?"  A roar erupted from the hall in whose doorway they stood, and for the first time Bilbo saw an unfamiliar dwarf waving a tankard the size of a hobbit's entire head over his enormous set of unkempt, greying braids.  This dwarf looked, quite frankly, like trouble.  He was larger than Dwalin, even, and twice as disreputable.  Broken teeth, crooked nose, the scars of many battles (and brawls, looking at his knuckles), his mouth gaped in a grin with his eyes shut like some sort of parody of the concept of drunken comedy.  "Oh.  Who's that?  Is he the problem?"

"Yes," Thorin said, scowling.  "It's the Poet."  As he said that, the dwarf stood with the tremendous solemnity only the deeply drunk can muster.  Grinning at a dwarf standing near the stage, he placed his hand over his heart, swigged the remainder of whatever was in that giant tankard and paused for a moment while the crowd seemed to hold its breath.  A torrent of Khuzdul poured from his lips, sounding (as always) to Bilbo as though the dwarf was gargling with a mouthful of pebbles, but the roar of the crowd's approval was so loud it was almost a physical presence.  The dwarf he'd been gazing at seemed to try to laugh along, though he was glowing crimson and soon slunk away.  Thorin snorted and grinned in spite of himself, Bilbo could tell, because he immediately scowled and looked quite cross.

"The... Poet," Bilbo repeated slowly.  "Right.  What sort of poetry does he write, then?  I mean, I rather like poems myself, although..." A dubious look cast towards the stage finished the sentence for him.  Just as well, he supposed, because the dwarf had looked over and seen them framed in the door.

"The King!  And his wee Kinglet!" came an astonishingly stentorian voice ringing over the crowd.  A slightly uncomfortable silence fell, and Bilbo wondered if this was going to be considered a bridge too far, even for the period of faux-normality.  Dwarves had a very constrained concept of lèse-majesté, he had found, but when it was crossed... Bilbo saw the guards look up from where they stood and hoped something terrible wasn't about to happen. Instead, another rumbling, rattling stream of words followed as the enormous dwarf smiled beatifically, belched, and tried to bow, ending up falling on his nose.  The crowd's roar was the loudest yet, though Bilbo barely noticed as a flaming-cheeked Thorin physically dragged him back out of the room and down the hall.

It took Bilbo substantially more than three days to get a translation of what had been said.  By the second day, he assumed it must be quite scurrilous, but every attempt was thwarted.  Finally, by deploying the secret weapon of threats AND biscuits, he got the weakest member of the family to crack - Kili, of course.  That night as they prepared for bed, Bilbo glanced up at Thorin where he was removing his breeches.  "So, tell me Thorin," he said guilelessly, "how exactly did the Poet know how 'oversized' you were?  Something you need to confess?"  It is with the greatest regret that the scribe must inform his readers that history does not record the remainder of this conversation.

[dwarvensongs]

Songs of the Dwarves

Now available on Amazon!Songs of the Dwarves: original poetry by Antipodean Writer

[shannonmacaron]

The Universe is Calling

Sunbeams are her freckles,

Dark storm clouds make,

Thunder in her eyes.

She is plated in gold,

Shaved from Cupid’s harp,

Dancing in broken porcelain moonlight.

Red dwarf blush,

Are the apples of her cheeks.

She ends the game,

Dealing with a new hand.

Once helpless and burned,

She rises like a phoenix.

King circles her head,

Like Saturn’s rings,

She lights a fire,

Using Apollo’s Bow.

Wearing blue sky robes,

Threaded by ants and spiders,

And sets it loose.

Sets ablaze to the thorns,

Chaining a broken door,

Leading to a garden.

A tree stood,

Holding Eden’s fruit,

Staining her lips violet,

As it’s swallowed whole.

True love is finally found,

Deep in the pit.

[mywritingacrchive]

Pluto

134 Kuiper Belt

Milky Way, SS

To whom it may concern,

This is Pluto. Remember me?

The ninth largest.

The tenth most massive.

I am made of ice and rock,

One third the volume of Earth’s moon.

I know I’m just a tiny fleck

Compared to my brother Jupiter.

But I have moons, too,

And I orbit the sun just like him.

I may not be the hottest like Venus,

Or support life like earth.

But I am just as special.

Please, don’t forget my worth.

Sincerely,

Pluto.

[kirbyddd]

one thing that's just one of my weird little personal wishes, i really wish gandalf used more of his Hobbit style alchemical "magic" in LoTR, he really only uses it for fireworks at the very beginning then he mainly just uses his ring and divine authority

[autistic-autumn]

Apparently ghosts still become werebeasts if they are cursed.

[starspyro1]

Halloween gnome brings joy or creepiness

[raidermomma]

I'm half tempted to book myself into a local hotel and spend the whole weekend writing by myself.

[gatsby-system-folks]

Other than drawing gay vintage cats I did some other art last night lol.

[raidermomma]

This makes me want to write my AU Red Dwarf fanfic that is basically a military family drama in space.

That fic you wrote?

The one about the ship no one else cares about, or the deeply unpopular character, or the extremely unusual AU?

The fic that got no comments or kudos when you posted it?

Months or years from now, that fic might be exactly what someone is looking for in the sea of fics about all the popular characters, ships, and AUs.

Your fic might be the only fic out there that has what someone is looking for. The only fic that scratches the itch that it turns out you and that reader share.

And that's awesome.