National Poetry Month - Day 7
As I was finishing my morning's writing, three words crossed my mind--"Oh frabjous day!"
So there was no help for it but to make "Jabberwocky" the poem of the day:
Jabberwocky
Lewis Carroll
'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were to 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 manxsome 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 though 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.
kellyrfineman did a lovely analysis of this a few days ago and talked about reciting it in schools.
There are so many things you can do with this poem. Years ago, booksareadrug danced to it, once, I think, as a slithy tove, gyring and gimbling in the wabe, and another time as a beamish boy. (She'll correct me if I'm wrong, I know.) It's a great poem to for jazz, and for being a bit mysterious.
Almost a year and a half ago, I read this poem at my brother-in-law's funeral. It was his favorite poem, and, as it turned out, one he recited at my sister-in-law when she was driving him to a medical appointment about a week before he died. I say "recited at" deliberately. Tony (not his given name) was an odd duck, one a English-born former boss of mine described aptly as an eccentric. These days, he would probably be diagnosed with Aspbergers, but 50 years ago, when he was starting school, no such diagnosis was possible. Tony liked knowing obscure things, and "Jabberwocky" provided not only the opportunity to recite, but to ask people if they knew the meaning of each portmanteau word and, if they said they didn't, to enlighten them.
Today, as I took a walk, I was thinking about BD dancing, and about Tony reciting, and about how one was a source of joy for me and the other a source of irritation (not again!). And how the poem, for Tony, was also a way of keeping his fears at bay.
A source of joy, a stay against fear--We ask a lot of poems. And they give it to us, many times over.