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.
Categories:
slithy, poetry, tribute, word play,
Form: Rhyme
My toves are not slithy this evening,
They will not gyre or gymbal at all.
And worldwide the wabes are all dusty.
While North Korea threatens,
Nuclear War!!
CNN now tells us of terror,
That threatens the whole world with hate,
And those who love peace seem neglected.
Poor foolish patrons of war!
Now the Jabberwock seems hardly scary,
He's a threat even babies don't fear.
Better by far to tremble at the Jabberwocks cry,
Than to raise a glass to war.
Now whereever soldiers are fighting,
And whatever they fight for tonight,
Give them peace for one night from the child of light.
And a new year without any war,
A gift from everyone to the entire world.
Categories:
slithy, holiday, imagination, war, peace,
Form: Free verse