Elvëalin Lóriluin

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An original role-play character of mine. What music I compose, is composed by her in Arda, Tolkien’s world. This is quite early attempt in digital mixed media, though, so I might attempt to improve on her yet.

I’ll eventually publish the polished versions of my songs and link them here. I draw influences from many genres of music, but I usually end up making a version that is classical, folk and ambient most of all.

Heart Is More Precious

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Poem, as I posted to WritersCafe:

For me these gifts you sought
But before I would take them
You know that I would not
Trade my heart for your gem

It won’t make me live the age
Or make my blood flow within
It is laid in a golden cage
Wrapped around my skin

Not a gem alone makes me shine
But if your heart instead I kept
I would cherish it like mine
Your diamond I would accept

Magic of Inspiration

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Poem, as I posted to WritersCafe:

At an easel an artist stood
Painting a dreary black line
As black as was his mood
But he wanted talent to shine

Sculptor was staring at stone
Thinking ‘tis a good chisel
But never before he had shown
Shape of his soul, made visible

An author had words gliding
All carelessly in the air
And yet there was in hiding
How their purpose she could snare

A composer drew a melody on line
But it never took a good flight
“How could the rhythm of mine
Never be just right?”

But suddenly a magic so strange
In their places made a sound
Screaming for a change
The artists it would astound

The painting shouted: “Hear!
Invisible I may be.
But I am right here!
Please don’t smear on me.”

The sculpture said: “Please.
From your blade my pain has risen.
I’m begging on my knees:
Free me of this stony prison.”

The story to the author said:
“You’re taking words from my dust
But look at my heroes instead.
It is them that you should trust.”

The composer saw wings growing
On some of his notes unwritten
Next to it sang a voice flowing:
“Let us be heard, others smitten!”

So the magic got the passion lit
Of these artists now feeling young
And so their creations made it
In freedom and desire they were flung