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"frumious" 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.
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Jabberwocky
The Banker's Fate They sought it with thimbles, they sought it with care; They pursued it with forks and hope; They threatened its life with a railway-share; They charmed it with smiles and soap. And the Banker, inspired with a courage so new It was matter for general remark, Rushed madly ahead and was lost to their view In his zeal to discover the Snark. But while he was seeking with thimbles and care, A Bandersnatch swiftly drew nigh And grabbed at the Banker, who shrieked in despair, For he knew it was useless to fly. He offered large discount--he offered a cheque (Drawn "to bearer") for seven-pounds-ten: But the Bandersnatch merely extended its neck And grabbed at the Banker again. Without rest or pause--while those frumious jaws Went savagely snapping around-- He skipped and he hopped, and he floundered and flopped, Till fainting he fell to the ground. The Bandersnatch fled as the others appeared Led on by that fear-stricken yell: And the Bellman remarked "It is just as I feared!" And solemnly tolled on his bell. He was black in the face, and they scarcely could trace The least likeness to what he had been: While so great was the fright that his waistcoat turned white-- A wonderful thing to be seen! To the horror of all who were present that day, He uprose in full evening dress, And with senseless grimaces endeavoured to say What his tongue could no longer express. Down he sank in a chair--ran his hands through his hair-- And chanted in mimsiest tones Words whose utter inanity proved his insanity, While he rattled a couple of bones. "Leave him here to his fate--it is getting so late!" The Bellman exclaimed in a fright. "We have lost half a day. Any further delay, And we sha'n't catch a Snark before night!"
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Fit the Seventh ( Hunting of the Snark )
The Banker's Fate They sought it with thimbles, they sought it with care; They pursued it with forks and hope; They threatened its life with a railway-share; They charmed it with smiles and soap. And the Banker, inspired with a courage so new It was matter for general remark, Rushed madly ahead and was lost to their view In his zeal to discover the Snark. But while he was seeking with thimbles and care, A Bandersnatch swiftly drew nigh And grabbed at the Banker, who shrieked in despair, For he knew it was useless to fly. He offered large discount--he offered a cheque (Drawn "to bearer") for seven-pounds-ten: But the Bandersnatch merely extended its neck And grabbed at the Banker again. Without rest or pause--while those frumious jaws Went savagely snapping around-- He skipped and he hopped, and he floundered and flopped, Till fainting he fell to the ground. The Bandersnatch fled as the others appeared Led on by that fear-stricken yell: And the Bellman remarked "It is just as I feared!" And solemnly tolled on his bell. He was black in the face, and they scarcely could trace The least likeness to what he had been: While so great was the fright that his waistcoat turned white-- A wonderful thing to be seen! To the horror of all who were present that day, He uprose in full evening dress, And with senseless grimaces endeavoured to say What his tongue could no longer express. Down he sank in a chair--ran his hands through his hair-- And chanted in mimsiest tones Words whose utter inanity proved his insanity, While he rattled a couple of bones. "Leave him here to his fate--it is getting so late!" The Bellman exclaimed in a fright. "We have lost half a day. Any further delay, And we sha'n't catch a Snark before night!"
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'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.
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Jun 29, 2010
Jun 29, 2010 at 8:48 AM UTC
From Through the Looking-Glass, 1871
'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.
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Jan 30, 2015
Jan 30, 2015 at 7:47 PM UTC
JABBERWOCKY Lewis Carroll (from Through the Looking-Glass and What Alice Found There, 1872)
Frumious, multitudinous and speedy, My toes tickle each other as they Twitch to the beat of my seedy Skin's rhythm. They itch the tired, Flimsy freckles into grimacing Their way to the mistaken pyre Where toes are simply fingers that Prefer soil to flesh.
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Jul 1, 2011
Jul 1, 2011 at 7:52 PM UTC
Notebook Paper 5
'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
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Apr 30, 2015
Apr 30, 2015 at 10:57 PM UTC
The Jabberwocky
He fell away with his uffish head all full and he bought what we couldn’t buy him and he didn’t buy what we swallowed whole or at least he sold it back or gave it away for vorpal heresies & novel fascinations And just like we taught him to ride the red a few swipes away from bankruptcy and desolation but welcome and chortled to fail if that’s easier for now than climbing the Tumtum tree or trying to make it in this world well fed - given all to eat and truly loved It’s curious how the rain gyred down today and stopped and came again and stopped because the cadence of his windshield wipers seemed to coincide with the crankier parts: only working when there’s nothing left to wipe We don’t even give two ***** if a Jubjub bird falls dead and he whiffles away, sword between his legs (though that is dangerous) and the beast escapes. He can eat the **** bird for all we care, but for sustenance, not triumph But our son is still lost; he’s frabjously writhing in the tulgey fiber of disappointment unable to slay even the puniest of borogoves His melancholy surpasses all comprehension and he isn’t coming home any time soon He’s not galumphing back. What use is a mimsy rhyme to the famished? How often are we warned, beamishly chastised of the brillig peril of worrying ourselves with feeding the slithy soul when the body burbles, always demands to eat first and is satisfied by no less than the frumious flesh of the fatted calf?
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Apr 16, 2014
Apr 16, 2014 at 1:12 AM UTC
What Manxome Foes
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.
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Sep 6, 2019
Sep 6, 2019 at 5:46 AM UTC
IT WAS A FRABJOUS DAY
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.
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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.
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Sep 16, 2021
Sep 16, 2021 at 11:32 PM UTC
Lewis
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.
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Sep 6, 2021
Sep 6, 2021 at 4:52 PM UTC
IT WAS A FRABJOUS DAY
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.
Continue reading...
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