Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Rebecca Oct 2020
Indeed, father! The Jabberwock is nigh!  
I’ll go with my vorpal sword,
his head will be no more
and slay him down, will I!

I’ll meet him in the tugley wood
by the Bandersnatch domain.
I’ll wait for him on the edge,
for his head, I’ll come to claim.

I have slain the Jabberwock,
his body will decay!
Let’s all meet by the Tumtum tree
and rejoice this frabjous day!

The slithy toves and mome raths
all now well understood. ’
Twas brillig, it was Indeed,
for it ended as it should.
"’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
      Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
      And the mome raths outgrabe.

“Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
      The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
      The frumious Bandersnatch!”

He took his vorpal sword in hand;
      Long time the manxome foe he sought—
So rested he by the Tumtum tree
      And stood awhile in thought.

And, as in uffish thought he stood,
      The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
      And burbled as it came!

One, two! One, two! And through and through
      The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
      He went galumphing back.

“And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?
      Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!”
      He chortled in his joy.

’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
      Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
      And the mome raths outgrabe."  -The Jabberwocky by Lewis Carroll
Mark Toney Oct 2019
Why do mechanics need manuals when they’ve fixed it before?
Answer my question or I’ll walk out the door!
Didn’t they attend trade schools or get O.J.T.?
Why need repair manuals?  That what gets me.
I just want a mechanic who won’t refer to a book.
Just fix my car already, don’t give it a second look!

Why do pilots run checklists and reference their charts?
Just push the dang button and hope the plane starts!
Didn’t they go to flight school and pass all the tests?
Pilots fly most days, so who needs all that mess?
I want a pilot who knows without referencing a chart.
Just get on with the flying and prove that you’re smart!

What about the doctors who are practicing still?
Why can’t they get it right?  And that includes the bill!
They’re always researching new studies in journals
When time’s better spent attending patients’ internals.
I just want a Marcus Welby, Ben Casey or Kildare
Instead of keeping up to date, I just want them to care.

Why do lawyers review case studies and legal decisions?
Such antics in my book leave them open to derision.
All that studying in law school should have been enough.
After passing the bar they should already know their stuff.
I just want an attorney who’s a know-it-all ace,
Not a book worm mouthpiece to plead my case.

Finally, the poets, being wordsmiths their art
You won’t see them referencing a checklist or chart
But look, in their hands, just what can that be?
A dictionary?  Thesaurus?  Are those what I see?
A real poet never needs help reading Shakespeare or Keats
Using Webster and Roget would make all of us cheats!
If a poet is real, the words should just flow
I think that all poets should automatically know
The right words to use, and literary crutches forgo
How dare they try better vocabulary to hone
They should come up with good things to say on their own.
I’m looking for poets who’ll just know what to say
Like Lewis Carroll’s poems in his heyday:
“Twas brillig, and the slithy toves, Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogroves, And the mome raths outgrabe.”

Don’t bother looking up his words, for that would be a dumb thing.
Using a dictionary or thesaurus, you might actually learn something!
1/1/2018 - Poetry form: Rhyme - This poem is an exaggeration full of satire and hyperbole. I wrote it in response to what I read someone say concerning the use of a dictionary and thesaurus by poets. They said that real poets don't need them. I was so astonished and shocked by that statement (since I use the dictionary and thesaurus all the time) that I decided to write a poem extending that idea to other professions, such as mechanics, pilots, doctors, lawyers and poets. Of course, all of these professions need to continue to keep up to date, be accurate and precise. I conclude the poem with the excerpt from Lewis Carroll’s nonsensical poem “Jabberwocky” to drive home the point. My last two lines say it all.
tight as tartan turpsnudgers' pursestrings
be proverbially bound,  titely as such
   stucious rufous stereotypes succumb
          ta brite lutes' letheanthems,
        lushbrutes' 'Lemme atums
               o' shanter!' Or tight as a sequentialbumperoffer's
scotch-
tape mufflers
o coCeeness is! Is i did as i did as i didun needtanot let Her come
so instant-aye nearuz, wusso instant tame me
us that it's weird, but neverso weird it's too near
ta me. i wanna bethe darkest mother-
****** me when i grow ups and downs,
with the hardest core, found
a strop shire by the banks of the
river viccissippi of my tude.
Didbut i dodon't knowbe-
cause She's

what i should do now. Now it's notso cool,
atleast not forso long, when i'm almine all pine, alone in he-
heat, so no more solongs thatmatter
for long. Coz notso long, i'm on my waynow,  
past no win knowin', 'ceptsave formore of the cosmic conspiracy
surroundin' that lackof
facts, 'bout what? Love's precogknitif
life, divine aboulia for two freer ta have an os sacrum
when we ache yum,  th'our liferent *** is a sacrament

where earth's choicest mercy lives,
so let no terse or courtesy put it asunder.
In postorgasmic sangfroid
of Our warmhearts mushymooey woozydoodlewick
what crucithickies fremd for sin,
lysanity lives! Tho' not in 'otel-
rooms exscinded, unexplainable stains th'intel of sin
exciting dishonesty's exsecting.  No, 'tis a clean join and high,
fidelity. We should even love our exes like the dead.
And love, that's clearish as ***
- i'm hi-sayer only ta Her, intensely, without leave.
It's no Ceecret or liceycret
Cee crept thru me like
a heavy geppetto ta haul my crawl
outta woodwork alps, pathetfordforests of rubbots,
bullbait of bare traps.

i was a secretbomb, bardear-  
drumfusedtongue secretin'  
sonic glooms of imploetry. But now i'm Cee's ******,
for She unstuffed my **** -  was no secret
bom bardit or owt, thiswaswhere my secretbomb bard-
'ead popped.

Quittin' poisonous logic
of mithridatic reclusivity coz She's sweet
as killesterol puddings, juggerpukka as an oldmucker
inthe years youth spruced up.
Sweet teeceepee shootist - of no putrefying pistol - Shestuns
forever my septisame me a bloodpoising wishfear

gunloadedwith one odd advantage, granted.
Such germs from exes were hexes less tacit
than tackedon bullets, but i'm pompomhome
in terms of pumpaction playtime  
coz Ceejay's my x-ies, WAHAYvision - loosens
my tying visions of a horseshoe shootingiron
like a t-1000's lassoicide.

i'm fondlefully fond of sapiosexbomb Cee,
explosionofpossibilities She sets off defuses me.
She's eminently permissible Satirist and Sanitarian,
with looking mind healthilfy enough ta free blind liceman
of ingrown sights astriple x as a ******* and a saltire
spitroasting a treasuremap.
Cee desterilicezingly ***** out endobrutal, selfshootin' growth
of mansdownsides, old sting-
ing in licey's riskyexwhores of eyes,
mouldering from all those stolid saladdays
when sensuality was a trope
quite like 'tripe', 'trap', 'trip'.  

o my Hereye's on... Sensed event, You all i...
Over softcoarse or rather falsehooddivorced firstdays,
and debauched and engorged allthenextdays,
that my Girlfriend's exceptional! Cee's cool-
ness is basking praxis of lenient idealism running a home
whichint runfrom; belle axe ta the ******'s hut my heart'd become!

Finely striped belly, tough as a tygoness, CJ yanks  
me like i'm Her jackpot, baby'sarmedbandit,
wags lucky lice like willie lumpkin's lugs,
-  no fairystale ballaxe or unporny story, between my legs
when She's happywith... Meow-
gasm? i growlgasm,
i'm that twaggish kind of cheshire ****, whizzed
thruol' churchorcheese toothshowin' carrolliannmog's insanityquiz.
Hearing voices, multiplechoices,
4 CJ

— The End —