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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 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.
'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.
Lewis Carroll (Charles L. Dodgson)
Janet Brown Jun 2014
Shells and Hopscotch, Kites and Stars
Treasures found on sea wet sands
Cover up your battlescars
Hold them tight in your cold hands

Mimsy, mimsy, swear your fate
Hold his face and kiss his cheek
He’s here right now, it’s not too late
Don’t turn away or be so weak

Toss the stone up ,it's so high
Don’t hold your breath or close your eyes
You’ve hit the square now don’t be shy
You have to jump, you have to rise...

You got so high! Now grab the string!
It’s caught the wind and makes away
It strains like some great living thing!
The past is gone. Now is today.

The stars, the stars so brightly singing
Don’t watch what’s in between, the Dark
They catch our eyes like bright birds winging
Don’t just hear crows. Listen for the lark.

Shells and Hopscotch, Kites and Stars-
Children's things? Not just, I think.
Don't pet your pain, or count your scars.
Relax. Life's quicker than you think.
-2014   Thoughts while walking on the beach, what else?
slythersnake18 Jan 2015
'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.
Fire Fox May 2015
'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
joel jokonia Jan 2022
Who quells a mimsy breed,
Only He, concedes a tree from seed.

Google, god of today
Only He, Beings bow to, every day.

Who hangs stars dressing a night,
Only He, tags waters of creatures small & mighty

Technology, tyranny of ****
Only He, treats his slaves as kings

Who knows heaven's ends
Only He, who possesing divine hands

Ignorance, father of today
Only He, leading us in paths astray

Who quells a mimsy breed
Only He, concedes tree from seed
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.
RJ Days Apr 2014
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?
Brother Jimmy May 2016
This bright believing band
Far from foolish
Neither narrow, nor numbed
Not a bit of what I planned will work
Excruciating, their sound;
How they strummed...
E Major, A minor, E Major, A minor
Endlessly repeating
Waiting for a sign ...or something
Sit, stand...
Make polite conversation,
Our hazy cocoons enshroud us
And we can believe
(Or not believe)
Either is easy-
We're not proud of this.
We attend this mimsy mayhem because we're searching for something lost here during our childhood
A sense of tribe
Of familial bliss
But we've lost touch
We are isolated
Disillusioned
Done
We don smiles and walk out
Wordlessly
Mike A Eyslee Jan 2020
Since feeling is first, and syntax is lies,
To enscribe you, my darling little jay,
I would have to ask, "Is there any way?"
Not of mimsy guise and anything-dyes,

But of nоnce-nonsense and everything-sighs,
Keep these thoughts pastiche on a wayward bay,
And perhaps leave them, removed on display,
Entirely altogether?

You are this fool's  ". . ."
". . ." as  '. . .' but  ". . ."
Lea ve me ". . ." on, a . . .

A skip!         for,
". . .   &      . . ."    "can"t; f o r get
(love ". . .") and you,
". . ."
inspired by some cummings (as evident by the spacing and the obvious allusion to his work, "since feeling is first"). also, "Jabberwocky" for the nоnce word. sonnets are annoying to write.
Donall Dempsey Sep 2019
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.
Andy Chunn Sep 2021
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.
Tribute to Lewis Carroll
Donall Dempsey Sep 2021
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.
Donall Dempsey Aug 2021
TEA BREAK EVERY OTHER DAY

"Tea?" enquired
the Jabberwocky
pleasantly

"Thanks awfully!"
smiled Alice politely
pleased to take a break

"One lump or
. . . two?"
growled the Jabberwocky

"None, thank you very much!"
Alice replied
in her best mimsy voice.

"I keep changing
dress sizes
these days!"

"Blueberry Bakewell ****?"
smirked the Jabberwocky
mockingly

Alice shook her head
furiously
trying to rid herself of the thought

"Or maybe...."
beamed the Jabberwocky
"Some Callooh! Callay! Cake!”

"Eh...ah...no - YES...FRABJOUS!"
Alice had no sooner
made up her mind but

she changed it again
as her mind kept
jumping around

"I keep hearing voices
. . .reciting me!"
burbled the Jabberwocky

"What! You hearing them too!"
wondered Alice uffishly
"...how....curious?"

"And in languages unknown
'Fushigi no kuni no Aris.'
I can't even speak Anime!"

"And I seemed to be
made more and more of words?"
she stood awhile in thought

"Ok! Mr. Jabberwocky...Miss Alice
curtain up in five please
a child is about to read you!"

"Well here we go
it's brillig again!"
whiffled Alice frumiously

"Maybe this time
I'll win perhaps?"
galumphed the Jabberwocky

"Ha!" said Alice
"You wish...Ha!"
she haa'd again

and then the child
turned the page
and the poem appeared

for the first time
in her eyes
as new as forever
**
(ふしぎの国のアリス, Fushigi no Kuni no Arisu) is an anime adaptation of the 1865 novel Alice's Adventures in Wonderland which ran on the TV Tokyo network and other local stations across Japan from October 10, 1983 to March 26, 1984. The series was a Japanese-German co-production between Nippon Animation, TV Tokyo affiliate station TV Osaka, and Apollo Films. The series consists of 52 episodes, however, only 26 made it to the US.
In the English language, this series is generally overshadowed by the success of Disney's 1951 feature film version of the story; however, the anime series was quite popular in various European countries, in Israel, in the Philippines, in Latin America, in Iran, and in the Arabic-speaking world. The series was also dubbed into Hindi by the national film development board of India and telecast on Doordarshan in the early 1990s.
The language with the most editions of the Alice in Wonderland novels in translation is Japanese, with 1,271 editions.
This was inspired by the photographs on the set of Frankenstein which show the Monster and his creator having a *** and a cuppa and one could imagine somebody calling "Ok guys....back into the scene!" And Boris stops being Karloff and lumbers back into being the Monster whilst still chewing a Custard Cream. "Ok...action...,lights!"
So I also thought that the Jabberwocky and Alice get breaks from being themselves in a fictional way until someone somewhere picks up the wonderful book and begins to read the famous poem. The Jabberwocky, his mouth stuffed full of Chocolate Bourbons as he lumbers after Alice and hopes that this time he will come out on tops...not realising he is doomed to fail time after time.
Donall Dempsey Sep 2020
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.
Donall Dempsey Sep 2023
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.

— The End —