Showing posts with label Lewis Carroll. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Lewis Carroll. Show all posts

Tuesday, August 21, 2012

Tuesday Poem: Not a poem, maybe one day...

The sun was shining in the sky
shining with all its might...


But of course it's hardly the middle of the night - I swear with this shot I feel almost get sun-blinded just looking at it.   Of course if you're disappointed the rest of the Lewis Carroll poem is here but basically why is the picture even here?  The story goes like this - while flicking through some of my shots of Wellington I found this shot of Seatoun beach and remembered the Lewis Carroll poem - and then I remembered I'd tried to do a poem along similar lines but where two rich fellows are going to complain alot about the beach and then buy it and everything on it out from under the noses of everyone else.  It never really quite worked but it was fun - if you don't mind the beginning being wrong - and the complete lack of an ending....

...

The sun shining on the sea
Spied two suits out strolling
As crisp as they could be

With voices biting as the wind
pleats sharp as any knife
They assaulted everybody's dress
Your money and your life

The sand was sharp and sandy
The beach was far from clean
Our moneymen saw seaweed
and complained it was obscene...

And that's it so far.  I hope everyone has had a busy and productive week, and if the poem is lacking, the perhaps stop and enjoy the picture, it's one of my favourites - Seatoun beach looking absolutely gorgeous

 A.J. Ponder's work is also available through Rona Gallery, Amazon, and good Wellington bookstores











Tuesday, July 24, 2012

The Crocodile by Lewis Carroll

How doth the little crocodile
Improve his shining tail,
And pour the waters of the Nile
On every golden scale!

How cheerfully he seems to grin!
How neatly spread his claws,
And welcomes little fishes in
With gently smiling jaws!


                                                                                       
Danger is beautiful, it will entice you in with smiles and perfect teeth.  Has there ever been a better metaphor wrapped up in more perfect verse?  Probably, but I'll take some convincing...

A.J. Ponder

PS I was on "An Aotearoa Affair" this week with "Remember Remember the Babes in the Wood" so
why not enjoy the dangerously and beautiful world hiding behind the Aotearoa poetry blog.  :) 

Thank you to fellow poet Michelle Elvy for setting this up in the count down to National Poetry day.  I must say there are some other great poems to check out while you're there including a gorgeous selection from Ora Nui 2012 and I must say I particularly enjoyed Helen Lowe's The Wayfarer:  Odysseus at Dodoma.  Of course I did.  As Siobhan Harvey commented, it is - "A poem which seems distinctly Helen and her wider work – mythical, beautifully crafted, layered, skillfully, with evocative language."   So yes - it seems there's almost twice the fun this week...so s while I'm smiling - watch out for the teeth! ;)

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And tell me which poems you'd like to see in my upcoming poetry book—2024? https://ko-fi.com/ajponder

Tuesday, April 17, 2012

Father William by Lewis Carroll

'You are old, father William,' the young man said,
'And your hair has become very white;
And yet you incessantly stand on your head -
Do you think, at your age, it is right?'

'In my youth,' father William replied to his son,
'I feared it would injure the brain;
But now that I'm perfectly sure I have none,
Why, I do it again and again.'

'You are old,' said the youth, 'as I mentioned before,
And have grown most uncommonly fat;
Yet you turned a back-somersault in at the door -
Pray, what is the reason of that?'

'In my youth,' said the sage, as he shook his grey locks,
'I kept all my limbs very supple
By the use of this ointment - one shilling the box -
Allow me to sell you a couple.'

'You are old,' said the youth, 'and your jaws are too weak
For anything tougher than suet;
Yet you finished the goose, with the bones and the beak -
Pray, how did you manage to do it?'

'In my youth,' said his father, 'I took to the law,
And argued each case with my wife;
And the muscular strength, which it gave to my jaw,
Has lasted the rest of my life.'

'You are old,' said the youth; one would hardly suppose
That your eye was as steady as ever;
Yet you balanced an eel on the end of your nose -
What made you so awfully clever?'

'I have answered three questions, and that is enough,'
Said his father; 'don't give yourself airs!
Do you think I can listen all day to such stuff?
Be off, or I'll kick you down stairs!'


Such a  fun - stupid - and feckless poem - so Lewis Carroll - and I'm sorry this wasn't up earlier folks, had a bit of a sore throat turn yesterday - but feeling so much better today, probably just been burning the candle a bit heavily at both ends so spending the day in bed settled things down a bit.

A.J. Ponder 

 A.J. Ponder's work is available through Rona Gallery, Amazon, and good Wellington bookstores
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Tuesday, February 28, 2012

The Walrus and The Carpenter by Lewis Carroll




The sun was shining on the sea,
Shining with all his might:
He did his very best to make
The billows smooth and bright--
And this was odd, because it was
The middle of the night.

The moon was shining sulkily,
Because she thought the sun
Had got no business to be there
After the day was done--
"It's very rude of him," she said,
"To come and spoil the fun!"

The sea was wet as wet could be,
The sands were dry as dry.
You could not see a cloud, because
No cloud was in the sky:
No birds were flying overhead--
There were no birds to fly.

The Walrus and the Carpenter
Were walking close at hand;
They wept like anything to see
Such quantities of sand:
"If this were only cleared away,"
They said, "it would be grand!"

"If seven maids with seven mops
Swept it for half a year.
Do you suppose," the Walrus said,
"That they could get it clear?"
"I doubt it," said the Carpenter,
And shed a bitter tear.

"O Oysters, come and walk with us!"
The Walrus did beseech.
"A pleasant walk, a pleasant talk,
Along the briny beach:
We cannot do with more than four,
To give a hand to each."

The eldest Oyster looked at him,
But never a word he said:
The eldest Oyster winked his eye,
And shook his heavy head--
Meaning to say he did not choose
To leave the oyster-bed.

But four young Oysters hurried up,
All eager for the treat:
Their coats were brushed, their faces washed,
Their shoes were clean and neat--
And this was odd, because, you know,
They hadn't any feet.

Four other Oysters followed them,
And yet another four;
And thick and fast they came at last,
And more, and more, and more--
All hopping through the frothy waves,
And scrambling to the shore.


The Walrus and the Carpenter
Walked on a mile or so,
And then they rested on a rock
Conveniently low:
And all the little Oysters stood
And waited in a row.

"The time has come," the Walrus said,
"To talk of many things:
Of shoes--and ships--and sealing-wax--
Of cabbages--and kings--
And why the sea is boiling hot--
And whether pigs have wings."

"But wait a bit," the Oysters cried,
"Before we have our chat;
For some of us are out of breath,
And all of us are fat!"
"No hurry!" said the Carpenter.
They thanked him much for that.

"A loaf of bread," the Walrus said,
"Is what we chiefly need:
Pepper and vinegar besides
Are very good indeed--
Now if you're ready, Oysters dear,
We can begin to feed."

"But not on us!" the Oysters cried,
Turning a little blue.
"After such kindness, that would be
A dismal thing to do!"
"The night is fine," the Walrus said.
"Do you admire the view?


"It was so kind of you to come!
And you are very nice!"
The Carpenter said nothing but
"Cut us another slice:
I wish you were not quite so deaf--
I've had to ask you twice!"

"It seems a shame," the Walrus said,
"To play them such a trick,
After we've brought them out so far,
And made them trot so quick!"
The Carpenter said nothing but
"The butter's spread too thick!"


"I weep for you," the Walrus said:
"I deeply sympathize."
With sobs and tears he sorted out
Those of the largest size,
Holding his pocket-handkerchief
Before his streaming eyes.

"O Oysters," said the Carpenter,
"You've had a pleasant run!
Shall we be trotting home again?'
But answer came there none--
And this was scarcely odd, because
They'd eaten every one.

Lewis Carroll

I love narrative poetry such as this - and yet although this is thought to be for children and perhaps simplistic, or not as sophisticated as more literary works and yet it manages to hold a number of truths that are just as relevant today as back then - and yet still hold warmth, humour, meter and rhyme.  A lovely piece of fun with a dark side -- so very Lewis Carroll :)


Enjoy!


A.J. Ponder 

 A.J. Ponder's work is available through Rona Gallery, Amazon, and good Wellington bookstores

Tuesday, December 6, 2011

Authors and Poets


Busy week, there's lots to do in the build up to Christmas - there's the obligatory making of Christmas Cakes and scramble to tidy the house and the garden, not to mention all those social event -  books, writing, books and more books - in my case ;)   

And like most people these days I'm also working - although some of it is fun -  Rona Gallery is putting on "The Santa Trap" (One of Peter Friend's and my School Journal Plays) for Christmas.   Not to mention the Christmas exhibition itself - and all the advertising.... so

So for a change I'm putting up about twenty favourite authors -  and in as few words as possible why they are so fab.  Feel free to contribute, I'm sure I've missed more than a few!


JRR Tolkein 
       for historical fiction that went the extra mythological mile
John Wyndham
        for disconcerting and surprising children     
A A Milne
         a bear however hard he tries grows tubby without exercise, 
         he gets what exercise he can by falling off the ottoman --
         and yet other authors seem to lack a certain good willed knack
         of finding love in little things, in toys and chairs - and crackpot kings.
Frances Hardinger
           the newest inductee.  Not for the prizewinning "Fly by Night,"
           but the bottomless well that is Verdigris Deep
C. J. Cherryh
          Down Below Station -  Enough said
Andre Norton
          The lady of science fiction herself   
Helen Cresswell
           There was winter, and there was birds --
            but I although I read the same words I could never read the same story twice
Roald Dahl
           Danny the Champion of the World, not to mention an abiding love of chocolate.
CS Lewis
          For opening the wardrobe door.
Terry Pratchett
           for raising a smile, and adding footnotes.
E.B White
          Thankyou for Charlotte, and your even more endearing mute swansong.
Diana Wynne Jones
           Ged
Mary Norton
           For making little people big.
Astrid Lindgren
          Two strong arms, plaits and an indomitable personality. 
Ursula K Le Guin
           Ged - and  more recently the little known Lavinia. 
Lewis Carrol
          A glimpse into madness,
Maurice Sendak
            One night Max made mischief - and the rest is history involving a boat and some very cute monsters.
Dr Seuss
           And the song of the swomee-swans rang out in space
Douglas Adams (both really I guess, but this one in particular) 
          Got towel - can travel. Don't panic.     
HG Wells
          For travelling back in time to get there first.

I hope you enjoy these authors as much as I do,
A.J. Ponder

A.J. Ponder's work is available through Rona Gallery, Amazon, and good Wellington bookstores

My very popular, Wizard's Guide to Wellington on my author webiste.

Tuesday, February 1, 2011

Jabberwocky, from through the looking glass read by




 Jabberwocky (Lewis Carroll)

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.

Alright - everything past this point refers to a version that has been removed - the current one is apparently read by Benedict Cumberbatch - it's nice and smooth unlike some versions which seem overly gutteral to me.


What can I say?  This is a beloved poem, and I've been biding my time for a whole year because last year somebody else pipped me to the post - but not with the dulcet tones of (someone imitating) Charles himself reading the poem (wrong - part of me is pleased because a couple of words I'd have pronounced differently - but part is annoyed - and embarrassed - but then it's a good lesson to remember that even when it doesn't really seem to matter - and there are no commercial interests involved - you should always check your facts on the internet) .  Anyway -Now there can be plenty of arguments about pronunciation!

Not sure what makes this poem so beloved, but  was so absolutely besotted had to take said poem and turn it on its head. Elegy for Jabber.

A..J. Ponder 
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