"frabjous" poems
'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 maxome foe he sought-
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood a while in thought.
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.
"Has thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Calloh! 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.
7.1k
Ring, ring, ring, ring.
Water's running down my face, no, tears, their salt is melting into my very bones as I stare at the phone and listen to it, ring, ring, ring...
My caterpillar has finally turned into the beautiful butterfly I believed I dreamed of, only to find myself rejecting him now at every turn. His Grace has grown up, and realized his riddles and rudeness are not the love I deserve, not the one I want, not anymore.
Wonderland has changed, too. It has expounded upon itself, growing larger with newer faces, faces I'm growing to love and cherish more than old.
In the whispering hours of Wonderland, a New Frabjous Face takes my hand and tell me to run with him, and I do. We run and dance and even when the rain is pouring he is still holding my hands and my face and telling me to run and breathe and live so beautifully.
My caterpillar never held my hand in the rain, he always disappeared into the clouds with his booming voice, judging and screaming about his own struggles while I was drowning in mine. Wonderland tends to flood.
Forecast for now though is sunlight with a slight overcast of whimsy.
After the New Frabjous Face, I feel more comfortable in the rain. Maybe it is apart of me, especially since I always beg to go dancing in the rain. Maybe I knew all along the rain was the key to Wonderland.
Caterpillar would be glad to hear I've been forgetting my magical little pills, no safety is swirling through my veins. He always judged me for using them, though he insisted it was my choice. My choice that he disapproved of.
New Frabjous Face and other new friends are new to me, but they makes me feel alive again, like maybe Wonderland can be a happy place again, like maybe the Jabberwocky can learn its place once more.
Ring, ring, ring...
And as the night goes on, I turn away the phone and let it ring, for it doesn't own my heart anymore.
I do.
Sep 2, 2014
Sep 2, 2014 at 5:41 AM UTC
'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.
Jun 29, 2010
Jun 29, 2010 at 8:48 AM UTC
'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, has 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.
Jan 30, 2015
Jan 30, 2015 at 7:47 PM UTC
Her, oh, her,
She shines so bright
In her black gown
with a silver line,
Not frabjous, flambuoyance,
Just simply loyal,
No glitter sprinkled,
No heavy fire,
No makeup,
No blush,
just simply loyal,
White, pale, silver, blue,
Yellow,
Seems so bright even more,
I want to stare at her,
In her dark eyes,
At her dark dress,
With too much depth,
Once I stare, my life, let go.
All along with her beauty galore,
Not frabjous, flambuoyance,
Just simply loyal,
The moon and her,
And my dark desire......
Dec 1, 2012
Dec 1, 2012 at 1:27 PM UTC
'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 Tumtum tree
And stood awhile in thought.
And, as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwocky, 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 it's 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.
-Lewis Carroll
Apr 30, 2015
Apr 30, 2015 at 10:57 PM UTC
It's seven-
-Syllables too quiet
And I twitch--
From teachers on my hand
Open-- close-
Open-- close
Canyons of flesh
Etch pain for remembrance
To the familiarity,
Of skin that dances
To sun-kissed residues.
Sleeping Shroudily
With meadow-blossom
Tethered by the wind.
But frabjous day
Is counted, in minutes and
seconds.
Made of earthquakes
Catching clouds.
Mar 21, 2015
Mar 21, 2015 at 11:24 PM UTC
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.
Oct 18, 2020
Oct 18, 2020 at 2:38 PM UTC
IT WAS A FRABJOUS DAY
The Jabberwock was
having its usual
cup of coffee
its tenth of the day.
Black.
Always black.
One could see coffee grains
caught in its teeth
Always the same
big grin.
We joked
(behind its back of course)
that Jabberwock
meant coffee ******
Not because we were fearful
but because he was such
a sensitive soul
and we didn't want to
cause offense
where no offense was meant.
It could get a bit
uffish.
An unlit cigarette clung
to its slobbery lips.
It didn't smoke but
wanted to appear to do so.
The mome raths were outgrabbing
they never seemed to stop.
The Cheshire Cat
(not all there)
smiled its smile
we called it Mona Lisa.
We were all just
hanging about
as you do when
your author ponders.
Nobody dared to
approach him.
He was a God
to us.
Me and the rest of the Toves
knew our place
and played cards
with the Borogoves.
The Borogoves
were cheaters.
The Jubjub birds were
bored out of their tiny skulls
perching in the branches of
the TumTum trees in Tulgey Wood.
The Bandersnatch was having
a frumious forty winks.
We were glad to be
just alive if only
in words -
words was our world.
No use getting all
mimsy about it.
We weren't as slithy
as we were made out to be.
We practiced our
gyre and gimble.
We were merely
the creatures of his brain.
We wouldn't dare disturb
the Author for fear
of being
scratched out.
Nobody 'cept the manxome
Jabberwock that is.
"But what's my motivation Mr. Carroll?"
He'd forever burble.
"Could I not take just a small bite perhaps
out of the little beamish chap ?" he'd whiffle.
Mr. Carroll( nobody dared
to call him Lewis)
just smiled and
Jack Jabberwock would galumphed back.
"Ok! Places everyone - 'tis brillig!
and the story limped on again.
It was a frabjous day
a really frabjous day.
All that could be heard was
the dripping of a tap
and the constant
scratching of the pen
creating forever
creating
the next sentence.
Sep 6, 2019
Sep 6, 2019 at 5:46 AM UTC
He said that it was brillig, but what did that word mean
And slithy is a word that I had never seen
If you gyre and gimble, what do you really do
I guess when in the wabe, you seek the meaning too.
Lewis was a master of words that were not real
He made you fear the Jubjub, and he made you feel
Like your very being, is a door without a latch
It takes bravery to shun the frumious bandersnatch.
We attack the world of words with a vorpal sword in hand
Verses, like the Tumtum tree, sprouting in the sand
And structure with rhyming can be a manxome foe
Whiffling and burbling, the flaming words will go.
Choosing careful phrases can bring a frabjous day
And poems not dead, like borogoves, find their mimsy way
While galumphing through the tulgey lines with uffish chortled joy
It makes me through and through a whiffling beamish boy
So Lewis paints a picture with unreal words so clear
The Jabberwock seems so real and something we should fear
Poetry is the art of words, with phrasing, tales and fun
Proceed carefully, and beware the Jabberwock my son.
Sep 16, 2021
Sep 16, 2021 at 11:32 PM UTC
My aspiring faith has the
whelming courteousness.
It is tired of searching
you in the redintegration of
its jammiest sereneness.
The oblivescence wants
to say goodbye!
But the benevolent concern
of emotional readiness,
feels the frabjous joy by
submerging into an
ingratiatingly adorable
world.
-Shivpriya
#beautifulthingsandemotions
Mar 13, 2019
Mar 13, 2019 at 3:16 PM UTC
IT WAS A FRABJOUS DAY
The Jabberwock was
having its usual
cup of coffee
its tenth of the day.
Black.
Always black.
One could see coffee grains
caught in its teeth
Always the same
big grin.
We joked
(behind its back of course)
that Jabberwock
meant coffee ******
Not because we were fearful
but because he was such
a sensitive soul
and we didn't want to
cause offense
where no offense was meant.
It could get a bit
uffish.
An unlit cigarette clung
to its slobbery lips.
It didn't smoke but
wanted to appear to do so.
The mome raths were outgrabbing
they never seemed to stop.
The Cheshire Cat
(not all there)
smiled its smile
we called it Mona Lisa.
We were all just
hanging about
as you do when
your author ponders.
Nobody dared to
approach him.
He was a God
to us.
Me and the rest of the Toves
knew our place
and played cards
with the Borogoves.
The Borogoves
were cheaters.
The Jubjub birds were
bored out of their tiny skulls
perching in the branches of
the TumTum trees in Tulgey Wood.
The Bandersnatch was having
a frumious forty winks.
We were glad to be
just alive if only
in words -
words was our world.
No use getting all
mimsy about it.
We weren't as slithy
as we were made out to be.
We practiced our
gyre and gimble.
We were merely
the creatures of his brain.
We wouldn't dare disturb
the Author for fear
of being
scratched out.
Nobody 'cept the manxome
Jabberwock that is.
"But what's my motivation Mr. Carroll?"
He'd forever burble.
"Could I not take just a small bite perhaps
out of the little beamish chap ?" he'd whiffle.
Mr. Carroll( nobody dared
to call him Lewis)
just smiled and
Jack Jabberwock would galumphed back.
"Ok! Places everyone - 'tis brillig!
and the story limped on again.
It was a frabjous day
a really frabjous day.
All that could be heard was
the dripping of a tap
and the constant
scratching of the pen
creating forever
creating
the next sentence.
Sep 6, 2021
Sep 6, 2021 at 4:52 PM UTC