"slithy" 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
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
'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
'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
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?
Apr 16, 2014
Apr 16, 2014 at 1:12 AM 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
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
spiral down the rabbit hole
take a swim in a sea of tears
walk to anywhere
paint some roses red
dance with the dead
bargain with mad men
walk a chessboard
drown in the sky blue
ask a answer with no question
take a half cup of tea
slip through a looking glass
tell a tale of woe
walk through shady woods
run to nowhere
chat with a cat sporting a grin
go completely mad
and perhaps
maybe just perhaps
you'll see a beast of nonsense
made of the blather of fools
living in slithy toves
with the jubjub bird above
and the bandersnatch below
is the jabberwock
hear it!
hear the monster!
hear its tentacles slither!
hear the beast of the mad!
take a step!
run a mile!
jump from the roof!
fall from the sky!
hear the beast of the deranged!
the monster of the disturbed!
the myth of the lunatics!
the jabberwock of wonderland!
Jan 26, 2019
Jan 26, 2019 at 9:57 PM 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
‘Twas 2019 and the slithy humans
Did gyre and gamble in opuleans.
All jublirant were the influters
But the underproles outcraped.
Beware the Jabbersarscov my son!
The invisible spiky suriv:
The lungs that flood, the air that strungles
And shun the droplmist.
One, two! One, two and three.
Wave after wave and variuans,
With E. Rs on flame;
‘Twas not a virpual game.
So came three pharmers:
Fpiper, Starzen and Putnik who
Galumphing found the wocksine
And the wirld riched heard immanity a-gain.
'Twas brillig and the slavy humans
Did gyre and gamble
with panache and galore once more
But nothing was the same anymore.
Mar 11, 2021
Mar 11, 2021 at 10:12 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