Four-and-twenty winters, fully told,

By Frige's craft we ken it well,

Some nine moons ere the newborn's star

Thy sire and dam in darkness met,

Tossed and tumbled in twisting bower-dance

Steel struck on steel, the stair-proud towers;

Fire fanned aloft, flame on the morning;

Albion's offspring, that after-Rome,

Faramir appreciation time!

Matthew Dickerson, "A Good King", in the Summer 2026 issue of Forgotten Ground Regained

Forgotten Ground Regained Issue 11 is now out!

This issue of the magazine devoted to modern alliterative verse edited by Paul D. Deane (available online and as PDF) includes new and selected poems in alliterative verse set in or addressing the Legendarium.

The poems are by:

Dorothy Nielsen, Tolkien’s Revelation

Patricia Masson, Hymn to Earendil

Dawn Felagund, Crossing Forest River

Rio Wulfmare, Star-Moment

Zdenka, The Making of Angrist

Zdenka, The Choices of Lady Éowyn

Matthew Dickerson, A Good King

Himring, Ëarendil the Seafarer

Zdenka, The Death of Bëor the Old

Nate Beeton, Farewell to Bëor

Nate Beeton, The Star Enlaced

Lisa Cooper, Rain in the Wood

Savannah Horrell, The Archeology of Doggerland and Old Beleriand

Cliff Jones Jr., Marching Orders

Quincy R. Lehr, From “The Tale of the Sad King”

Math Jones, Tolkien Dreams

Colin Mackenzie, A Selcouth Tree

Susan Edwards, Slaying the Dragon

Susan Edwards, The Paths of the Dead

Paul D. Deane, The Song of Shadows

Chris Bolland, The Wight

Joseph Mathias, Middling Earth

The magazine also includes lovely artwork, reproduced with permission. There are also recs with links for even more poems.

Original

Israel Gollancz (1891)

Sophie Jewett (1908)

Sister Mary Vincent Hillmann (1961)

John Gardner (1965)

Margaret Williams (1967)

Marie Borroff (1967)

Brian Stone (1971)

J.R.R. Tolkien (1975)

William Vantuono (1984)

Casey Finch (1993)

[extremely has been reading Maxims I voice]: I have been reading Maxims I.

One goal here: try to use this character's maxims to prod at what is normal to them and (rightly!) not normal to us.

My Willow Blossom

The sad sapling bloomed an early, lonesome blossom. It was fitting seeing that the sunny season was nearing. And swiftly, the weeping willow was told, “spring will not be here shortly.”

Only one because it hopped too soon and realized too late that winter was yet to end—that the groundhog had saw its shadow. So its beautiful blossom had to brave the next blizzard by itself. The willow willed, but still watched it whither without peace while winter wrecked it without remorse. And the sad sapling learned to lose something so dear.

The synthetic sublimity of sparse signals sublimates into the silent suicide of sick souls.

The veil of oblivion will vanquish the veneer of the daring deceit,

Leaving a languid legacy of lacerated shallow shells.