The Jumblies by Edward Lear

They went to sea in a Sieve, they did,   In a Sieve they went to sea: In spite of all their friends could say, On a winter's morn, on a stormy day,   In a Sieve they went to sea! And when the Sieve turned round and round, And every one cried, 'You'll all be drowned!' They called aloud, 'Our Sieve ain't big, But we don't care a button! we don't care a fig!   In a Sieve we'll go to sea!'       Far and few, far and few,             Are the lands where the Jumblies live;       Their heads are green, and their hands are blue,             And they went to sea in a Sieve.

II

They sailed away in a Sieve, they did, In a Sieve they sailed so fast,   With only a beautiful pea-green veil Tied with a riband by way of a sail,   To a small tobacco-pipe mast; And every one said, who saw them go, 'O won't they be soon upset, you know! For the sky is dark, and the voyage is long, And happen what may, it's extremely wrong   In a Sieve to sail so fast!'       Far and few, far and few,             Are the lands where the Jumblies live;       Their heads are green, and their hands are blue,             And they went to sea in a Sieve.

III

The water it soon came in, it did,   The water it soon came in; So to keep them dry, they wrapped their feet In a pinky paper all folded neat,   And they fastened it down with a pin. And they passed the night in a crockery-jar, And each of them said, 'How wise we are! Though the sky be dark, and the voyage be long, Yet we never can think we were rash or wrong,   While round in our Sieve we spin!'       Far and few, far and few,             Are the lands where the Jumblies live;       Their heads are green, and their hands are blue,             And they went to sea in a Sieve.

IV

And all night long they sailed away;   And when the sun went down, They whistled and warbled a moony song To the echoing sound of a coppery gong,   In the shade of the mountains brown. 'O Timballo! How happy we are, When we live in a Sieve and a crockery-jar, And all night long in the moonlight pale, We sail away with a pea-green sail,   In the shade of the mountains brown!'       Far and few, far and few,             Are the lands where the Jumblies live;       Their heads are green, and their hands are blue,             And they went to sea in a Sieve.

V

They sailed to the Western Sea, they did,   To a land all covered with trees, And they bought an Owl, and a useful Cart, And a pound of Rice, and a Cranberry Tart,   And a hive of silvery Bees. And they bought a Pig, and some green Jack-daws, And a lovely Monkey with lollipop paws, And forty bottles of Ring-Bo-Ree,   And no end of Stilton Cheese.       Far and few, far and few,             Are the lands where the Jumblies live;       Their heads are green, and their hands are blue,             And they went to sea in a Sieve.

VI

And in twenty years they all came back,   In twenty years or more, And every one said, 'How tall they've grown! For they've been to the Lakes, and the Torrible Zone,   And the hills of the Chankly Bore!' And they drank their health, and gave them a feast Of dumplings made of beautiful yeast; And every one said, 'If we only live, We too will go to sea in a Sieve,---   To the hills of the Chankly Bore!'       Far and few, far and few,             Are the lands where the Jumblies live;       Their heads are green, and their hands are blue,             And they went to sea in a Sieve. Don't ask me why, I never thought this was good poetry even as a kid - but it was fun, it has lovely rhythm rhyme tortured out of perfectly good old fashioned prose - and it's stood the test of time.  So why not post on my unofficial week off Tuesday poem posting :)  Have a great week everybody and don't forget the Tuesday Poetry group is right here at your fingertips. A.J. Ponder   A.J. Ponder's work is available through Rona Gallery, Amazon, and good Wellington bookstores

Throw Away World

I gave you water

and you spilled it

I gave you flowers

and you crushed them under your boots

I gave you light and you hid from it

preferring to make your own

now, at the end, I give you darkness

and still you throw coal on the fire

A J Ponder

So tired this week, everything hurts like lead - and I'm thinking its time to start consolidating and getting some stories into publishable form and having them escape out into our little throw away world.  Time weighs heavily, and has to be meted out with great care - but the more I do that the more it slips through my fingers...

A.J. Ponder 

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

Snow White

There is a god

not The God

but worshipped

nonetheless

"...as we bow low

and break our brittle bones

and grind them with our bread

let us give thanks

"As we walk across the sand

as we crawl over the mountain

as we eviscerate the sacrificial lambs

let us give thanks

"As we flagellate our bodies

and fill our minds with sweet opiates

and forgetfulness

let us give thanks..."

Yes, there is a god

wealthy beyond compare

powerful beyond knowing-

so bow

and scrape

and worship

and shun the unbelievers

for your god is mightier than mine

a physical presence

a rod, a cage, a red hot poker

no son, but a soft white daughter

to feed your intoxicated soul

I must be the evil queen

to hate her so,

let me pick up the burning slippers

and dance.

A. J. Ponder 

 All right - was going through a hundred and one poems to try and find some work on Eastbourne - there's surprisingly little in my collection - mostly just the beach poems or complaining that I'm too busy for the beach.  It's quite sad really.   So is the fact that I have a fairy tale portal and still don't have all my fairy tale poems up.  Not that this is so much your traditional Grimm's version, but a little sidestep away from the traditional poison apple.  Think of it, if you will, as a rail against the worship of the artificial prettiness so prevalent in modern tales, after all that is as true as anything else.

...BTW this is my hundredth post.  I'm now an old hand with over 13,000 views, .  It must be almost time for a break :)  My most popular poem is still "Sex Sells" - which does rather prove the aphorism I guess.  Also I'm rather pleased the rather traditional "Stolen Time" has hit the top ten.  I'm hoping this means that others also like the rather deadly romance of fairy-tale poetry, where dancing is not always the harmless occupation one might think - and even songs and sight are dangerous...

A.J. Ponder 

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

A New Skirting

Green petticoats ruffle the shore

frothy laughter dancing to and fro

around a traffic cone perched jauntily

on a well-dressed rock

#

Across the bay a digger

tears old concrete apart

ready for the shiny metal corsets

to hide an old lady's unsightly shoreline.

Soon she'll be dressed in black,

the perfect evening wear

clinging to luscious curves

that will never breathe again.

A.J. Ponder

This is the dread poem I started working on two weeks ago.  And like any old lady, she's certainly had her whims and tantrums - not unlike the weather.   But she's a game old bird, and love her or loathe her, (or the new walkway around the bays to Eastbourne) the new version is a lot safer - at least for humans...

A.J. Ponder 

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

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

The Teachable Moment

Pen pressed to mouth with absolute intensity

you listen,

but there is nothing left.

My words 

are

as empty

as the bare wastes of

concrete

our feet leave behind.

My friend, I cannot take us 

so high

as to remove us from our folly.

I cannot even 

pretend 

to listen to the silence 

your pursed lips create.

Whole deserts of meaning 

bloom

and die,

as you describe the limits of my hubris 

with rounded eyes.

So I need to know,

can the past be rewritten

with the dust 

of broken, rotting bones

in the bleaching sun?

And will you, my student, forgive these truths?

or will we freeze forever

in this rarefied atmosphere,

waiting for this moment 

to concrete.

A.J. Ponder

No - not a beach poem (sorry Helen) that particular poem seems to have a problem within the confines of words.  I think maybe it is two poems and they need surgical separation.  

That will be fun when I have a moment but today as a busy day so I'd better crack to it.   I'm so very behind - but I'll be doing my best to visit everyone at the Tuesday poem hub tonight.  Cheers everyone, have a great week

A.J. Ponder 

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

Eating Pyramids in the Desert

Warning:

This government document contains food advice -

Take with a pinch of salt

and maybe a grain of sugar

then make sure the lie is big enough

so you, the consumer

can swallow it whole.

A.J. Ponder

 Oops - food pyramids - FYI never show me one of those things, they only upset me - but this picture in particular ticked me off on so many levels.  (Added 25 Feb: There are few food pyramids that can be taken seriously and but these have actually been created for people - instead of interest groups.  The African American Food pyramid and it can be found here  and the Mediterranean pyramid here they are different because they have resisted the pull of processed foods that have been promoted as "healthy" by interest groups.)

So, yes, I was going to do a nice beachy poem - after all as I walked around the bays today there was a traffic cone perched jauntily upon a rock - maybe I thought, Neptune needs a party hat, but he was kind enough to place it upon the shore later in the day.  

Here's a nice picture of the beach instead.  Unfortunately I didn't have my camera with me so it is sans party cone.  For more Tuesday poems visit the hub - here.   My government and food lobby dis-approved suggestion is to search out "chocolate as a form of antidote.  Personally I rather like the smooth "Ode to Chocolate" by Barbara Cooker.

A.J. Ponder 

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