"jabberwock" 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
How glorious it once was
My Wonderland
Singing flowers, unbirthday parties
And painting roses red
Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee
Laughing, playing jubilantly
White Rose
Beautiful, brave
Shy Violet
Strong, sweet
Hatter
Protective, playful
Gave hope, kindness, love
I grew older
Wonder fading
Until only madness remained
My dormouse hid in his little teapot
My Cheshire cat disappeared
The Queen of Hearts gave misery
Tied in a treacherous bow
The caterpillar tried to transform
Toxic, ***** fear
Beware the Jabberwock, my dear
He wants you for his bed
My love, the Hatter left me
One golden afternoon
Devoid of wonder
Doomed to ache
The White Rabbit came
And took me by the hand
To lead me from my once wondrous Wonderland
You’re late You’re late
Your future will not wait
No time to say “I love you, Goodbye”
You’re late You’re late You’re late
Nov 6, 2012
Nov 6, 2012 at 12:28 AM UTC
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!
Oct 26, 2019
Oct 26, 2019 at 10:20 PM UTC
Don't ask - If that was there in the 1950's...
Chances are, it was.
Don't ask - Where the Jabberwock is...
It is currently whiffling through the Tulgey wood.
Don't ask - What normal is...
We don't give a Tumtum tree.
Don't ask - What a Bandersnatch is...
We've been arguing about that since the 1950's.
Don't ask - About our Gallbladders...
It's one thing we have in common.
Don't ask - How to get Raymond started on European history...
He'll do it himself.
Don't ask - How to say thank you...
Just flick the cat off you tongue and get it over with.
Jul 13, 2011
Jul 13, 2011 at 9:39 PM UTC
From the prompt: The End Of Monsters
“Nobody asks why the chimera needs killing.
It’s a lone thing – a wrongness,
a distortion wandering in from elsewhere
burning the straight plowed fields of us”
- E. Rose Sims (On Cartography and Dissection)
He took his vorpol sword in hand
and with it, slayed the last Jabberwock.
Claimed its head, and placed it on a mantel,
in between Grendel’s arm, and the Minotaur’s horn -
Trophies of his conquests.
He told himself that he was making the world safer.
Still, that didn’t stop the nightmares.
The memories of the screams let out by the faun
as he plunged his dagger into its neck.
The way the chimera begged to be spared,
in is best human accent, before he thought to cut out its tongue:
“Please, no **** Who will look for my family?”
“No mercy, not in this world.” He tells himself.
“Monsters need to be killed.”
He told himself that he was the great Dragonslayer.
The adventurer.
Eliminating the native threats
so that his people can safely claim the land.
Now that his deed is done,
the final monster, slain.
Our hero hangs his vorpol sword up on the wall.
Yet, he lies awake at night
unable to sleep,
he stares up at the stars.
He dwells on a bone chilling thought -
that maybe somewhere in a distant land
there is a map being made of his home town
and some undiscovered other
has labeled it -
“Here Be Monsters”.
Apr 6, 2014
Apr 6, 2014 at 12:24 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 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
She is the quiet champion
Nothing but the Truth and it shall make us free;
The pensive fighter, she sits, eyes down and mind a hunter for that Truth
to liberate her and me and us and all until It's done.
Eyes dart and heart beats on slowburn
the embers glowing hot in the center, waiting to blaze and lick and lap at the danger
as sword and shield are drawn and Jabberwock is slain
and then a slight grin a hug a sparkle in the eye as
-The monster's head in her hand-
She returns to her Truth and her love and the soft glow
of the quiet champion's eyes as they look to those around her
and the sword and shield in the corner for the next monster
the smile returns, the eyes kindle, the task manifests
and the work begins again--quiet and pensive the Gladiator
marches toward the Truth with her friends
peaceful except for the footsteps
and the whispers
and the love
Dec 13, 2013
Dec 13, 2013 at 10:08 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 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
The jabberwock is a monstrosity
Wings poised to fly
where its beauty might be appreciated better;
and I think all it needs to know is that there are people who love it, people it loved,
once upon a time
before time leaked
and reduced it to monstrosity.
Oct 27, 2014
Oct 27, 2014 at 2:23 AM UTC
Kaleidoscope raindrops fill in low eyes,
and blotter tab lunatics jump up high-
Alice is missing! Chesire's loose!
The Jabberwock is drinking a burning juice
The ceiling's melting, and the clock's been moved;
Hey White Rabbit, you're gonna get bruised.
We need order in our not-so-sober minds,
Oh, Mad Hatter! Could you be so kind?
Have you seen the Caterpillar yet?
Where is he- can you bet?
I'm willing to gamble; that's not tobacco in his pipe-
Let it be known; he's high as a kite!
Alice, oh Alice...
What have you done?
Nov 15, 2013
Nov 15, 2013 at 7:22 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
I take a pill each morning--
"to keep the madness away,"
declared the doctor,
her tone clinically nonchalant
as she handed to me
a prescription for
small, white tablets
that leave a bitter chalkiness
in your mouth
when you've left them
on your tongue
for too long
before swallowing.
But
there is only so much
modern-day pharmaceuticals
can remedy.
Sometimes,
I can still hear her,
you know--
sweet.
lost.
mad
Alice
scratching at the
tessellated patch-work
of my psyche.
I can still feel her
as my fingertips flit
across the liquor bottle--
"Drink Me,"
it murmurs.
Curiouser
&
curiouser
I become with
every shot.
When the room
starts lurching,
when I am too
dizzy to stand,
I close my eyes only
to find that the world
is still spinning.
Or perhaps
I am just falling.
Yes,
D
O
W
N
the rabbit hole I go.
And, as I plummet,
the phosphenes of colour
behind my eyes
transmute into the most
peculiar images:
a mercury-tainted top hat
encompassing the harlequin
countenance of a man
as crazed as I;
the trundling wings
of a Jabberwock
and the heaving snout
of a Bandersnatch;
a pocket watch,
its face lustrous and
encrusted with Jadestone--
"Time. It's time!"
it chimes.
"Time for what?"
exclaims the girl
in the periwinkle petticoat
(she appears simultaneously
excited and terrified
by the impending chaos).
"Bloodshed,"
reckons the squire
of the pocket watch--
the March Hare,
a grisly little thing
in a tattered waist jacket.
"Bloodshed, bloodshed,
off with her head!"
And that girl in periwinkle?
Why that girl is me,
and the Queen of Wonderland
has dealt her cards--
she'd like my head
(and my heart).
But
sweet.
lost.
mad
Alice
has a trick of
her own to deal--
a Wild Card
tucked beneath her sleeve.
She is capable of imagining
at least six impossible things
before the high is over,
you know.
All it takes is a
simple flutter
of an eyelash
and then,
gripped between
her fingers,
appears a substance
foreign to Wonderland--
***
"Bottoms up--
for with this,
I shan't feel a thing,"
she surrenders.
"What?"
roars the queen
upon her arrival.
"You will not fight?
Why, you must be mad!"
"Haven't you heard?"
replied Alice.
"All the best people are--
Cheers."
Oct 7, 2018
Oct 7, 2018 at 2:32 PM UTC
Swoosh!
Uh! Why, thank you!
You may know by now
I am weightless so
I'll help you
levitate, too, okay? and
Ommmm...meditate!
(and I'll kiss you like so, too)
Hooray!
Boy and girl paper dolls in
3-dimensions!
I can't point to which ears
heard which stampeding rumbles
from minimal eye gazes,
my vigilantly mind plotting on a chess board,
six moves ahead,
rooks to rookies,
overtly naive to trump
Freudian slips
(here's where Forer will see his effect),
a density practiced since
crushin' La Rosa,
an unfurling heroine,
compiling names to
ever-growing lists,
I pushed it to the test,
immersed in
metacourse
and passed in
supernova bursts of
spiralling colours!
Mr. Movie sends his waves asking,
Alice killed the Jabberwock with a purple sword, didn't she?
And making his request,
Make sure the hyenas get rid of Scar so that he Never! Comes!...Back!
As well as his warnings,
(Captain Gutt will threaten)
*I will destroy him and everything he LO-OVES!
You destroyed everything I had!
I'm just returning the favour!*
Reassuring,
*No, he won't.
Uh uh.*
But I wouldn't know anything about that.
I live in the post-post-postmodern age.
Apr 4, 2014
Apr 4, 2014 at 9:06 AM UTC
Let me tell you a story,
a rendition of Alice's story:
Her fall down the rabbit hole,
Her descend down ever after.
She as a girl, with dreams so high,
They were towering,
she believes in achieving.
But one day Alice learned:
Day isn't as bright as she had always known.
The sun's not shining,
The sky's as dark as evening.
With a blade in her hands,
The gate opened with her blood.
No doubts, no qualms.
She jumped.
Deeper, farther, the march hare she met.
She tore through every door,
ON! to the new world she moved on.
She met twins, nameless
They were fighting, endless
The prophesy foretold something,
But she's not that Alice, she's different.
She growled, she screamed.
The world froze.
This is her world now,
And she will claim it no matter what.
She is Alice,
An Alice gone mad.
Wouldn't she make the best partner
of a hatter they know best?
Hatter is hatter,
Hatter became her armor, her sword her shield,
Whatever she wanted him to be.
Together they fought, charged hand in hand.
Off with the red queen's head,
Off with the jabberwock's
Hatter gave her a purpose,
But hatter left her to fend in that new world.
Gone is hatter,
still and cold.
And there goes Alice screaming back and forth.
Hatter became her life,
But they both lost against Time.
Now tell me,
Who is Alice without hatter?
What is Alice with a purpose?
With hatter gone, how will the story ever end?
Oct 31, 2018
Oct 31, 2018 at 11:07 PM UTC
*Twas brillig and the slithy toves
Did gyle and gimble in the wabe.
“Beware the jabberwock my son
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch…”*
The twin scourges of solitude
Death comes upon closed hearts,
Nay… Cold Hearts would pray for death
Close cousin to the cold heart, the busy mind.
One rises with the other, in fact;
Both encage…
Both disconnect…
Both starve … of joy
Both take… the person…’s soul.
**I give up, I say
Love is not for me
I fall to me knee
Bow head in defeat**
*Why do I show my neck to my foe?
There is a better way, I do not know.*
I don’t know
I simply do not know
Everyone looks toward me
Expecting my advice
It’s not here
**I do not know the reason
For the changing of the tide
Nor changing of the season
Nor the…**
The answers
Are as hidden from me
As they are for the rest of you
So do not look at me
Turn and go
Dec 29, 2014
Dec 29, 2014 at 10:33 PM UTC
My palms split open on my broken heart
My blood paints the roses red
The lying rabbit runs away
taking a few shards
of my shattered looking glass heart
to adorn her shallow watch
Grasping slivers I tumble down
tears and blood
mingling with a salted tang
screams rip my throat
nightmares choke my mind
Her watch ticks on...
Bitter cold gives way to golden afternoon
my no longer white Rose lies with Tweedle Dum
wrapped in rapture
loving, living, in the sun
Shy Violet hovers at the edge
twinkling in and out
Cheshire cat wears a different face
luring me with a flashy grin
I reach out in friendship, shiver away in fear
moving through the Red Queen's maze
The Carpenter walks beside me
confessing love I do not have
The Hatter appears before me
reaching out, sea colored eyes bright
His touch so bittersweet I sigh
He'll leave again when the gold fades...
As the momeraths scamper and play
the flowers whisper "You'll be okay"
While doctors force pills down my throat
and strap me to a bed
the Jabberwock lurks inside
clawing. shrieking.
OFF WITH YOUR HEAD
Aug 30, 2014
Aug 30, 2014 at 2:24 AM UTC
*Hello my dear,
Have I seen you before?
Perhaps somewhere in another land,
Have you heard of Wonderland?*
*I live in such a place,
I have strange friends,
I can see that you don't understand what I am saying,
My dear, we're all mad in Wonderland.*
*One of my friends is a hatter, who has gone mad,
Another is a grinning cat who disappears a lot,
I can see that you think I'm bonkers,
My dear, we're all mad in Wonderland.*
*I am mad too, for I talk to myself,
Scolding myself for doing idiotic things,
I slayed the Jabberwock,
My dear, everyone is mad in Wonderland.*
Oct 18, 2016
Oct 18, 2016 at 11:37 AM UTC
He comes ever closer,
To hunt and **** a monster like no other
Down in the Tulgey Woods he hides and waits
Dark as night and evil as death he follows
"The claws that catch and the jaws that bite"
Those who venture are sure given a fright,
All dare not walk the woods in fear of sure death
All but one who took up his blade,
And braved the beast no longer afraid
Jun 2, 2016
Jun 2, 2016 at 10:48 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
What I would give to write happy words,
To string together a poem
That left you and I assured
Of the warmth of a sunrise, swiftly ushered
By the chorus of blue jay prose
But each of these words is dyed black
By thoughts with no start or end,
Lilac, light, and love would lack
True meaning written by an insomniac
Who jrekkers with the Jabberwock
I envy you, you whose thoughts soar
Lift us with your feathered pen,
Impart the fervor you store
In each tranquil rhyme and sanguine metaphor
I’m glad for you, you poets.
May 17, 2018
May 17, 2018 at 8:29 AM UTC
It’s like
I came, I saw, I conquered
Except
I came, I saw, then I conquered.
It’s like
And miles to go before I sleep
Except
And miles to go before I can sleep.
It’s like
“Beware the Jabberwock, my son!”
Except
“Beware of the Jabberwock, my son!”
It’s like
“I love you too.”
Except
"love you too”
It’s like
a snowflake.
Except
Five hundred thousand ******* pounds of ice
It’s like I woke up one morning and didn’t want to make you coffee anymore
It’s like I left the door unlocked and nothing was stolen
It’s like I teased you about your hair and you didn’t pick up on it
It’s like the next five hundred thousand years got real close real fast and there's only one thing I can think about,
and that’s how when I say your name my voice cracks
and when I say her name we do.
Mar 10, 2014
Mar 10, 2014 at 3:53 AM UTC