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, February 21, 2012

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





Tuesday, February 14, 2012

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



Tuesday, February 7, 2012

The Eagle by Lord Alfred Tennyson

He clasps the crag with crooked hands;
Close to the sun in lonely lands,
Ring'd with the azure world, he stands.

The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls;
He watches from his mountain walls,
And like a thunderbolt he falls. 
The analysis of this poem is both plentiful and varied.   I have nothing really to add except I happen to like it - the rhythm within the poem is quite beautiful but the ambiguous decisiveness of the last line is masterful.  :)

The picture is Bruegel's Landscape with the Fall of Icarus (ca. 1558) - I was really looking for a closer pic of Icarus - but this seemed most relevant.

A.J. Ponder 

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

Tuesday, January 31, 2012

Unborn

This dead year
Yearning
Thorns longer than
Leaves
Before they fall
No apples this year
Just the promise of spring
In pink and white
Blowing away in the sour autumn wind 

A.J. Ponder

A cheery poem today. ;)  It's another on the spot deal - partly because I'm doing most of my writing on the laptop and am too lazy to transfer it.  

So busy.  Still my front door looks cool :)  Not quite verdigris green with a wrought iron lamp just to the right - I feel that at any moment a steam car will chug into my driveway.   

A.J. Ponder 

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

Wednesday, January 25, 2012

Tuesday Poem - for sale

I'm afraid my Tuesday Poem is a little belated today-
my only excuse is that -
somewhere in the world I am sure it is still Tuesday
and next week it will be Tuesday again
but I'll still have the pile of ironing
striving for the ceiling
I'll still have the floor
needing to be swept
only so much debris can go under the rug
The only difference is that - hopefully
there'll be a for sale sign
advertising the only slightly grimy exterior
and the newly hacked green
enticing newcomers
all the way down the garden path...


I don't know what you'd call this - an extemporised poem I guess.  All because it's so hard to get into the Tuesday Poem headspace when there's so much to do and I'm running around like a headless chicken - off to iron curtains now - sigh.  I'll try to pop in on all the Tuesday poets tonight - it's always so refreshing to see what everyone else is up to :)

Cheers, and apologies again for being so late. 

A.J. Ponder 

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

Tuesday, January 17, 2012

Hunting the Wild Goose


Remember,
the road to hell is paved with poems,

First, catch your poem,
entice it with sweetmeats and chicken,
watch carefully,
a feral poem may turn on you at any instant,
metaphors - extended
personification about to bite

A kittenish sense of humour
will tickle you into a fisherman's arms
or tear you to shreds with good intentions,
so it's best to use armour piercing bullets
to ensure you are the hunter and not the hunted.

Caged, a wild poem is practically worthless,
so why should our intrepid poet
sludging through mud and malaria
to bring back only death and decay.

Truth is, it's hard to say,
maybe it’s the beat of the jungle
the breathy wild entrancing lies

Maybe it's the thrill of the chase
or the trophy hung upon the wall

Or maybe
just maybe,
its none of these things at all.


A.J. Ponder 


Trawling through lots of old poems - and thought this feels like a beginning of the year poem - so it's quite appropriate to post it on the official beginning of my Tuesday Poem Blog for 2012.  

Now of course there are plenty of other lovely poets and poems up on the Tuesday Poem blog, and it's so exciting for everybody to be up and running again I know I'll be dropping in to see what's happening.  But only very quickly because with all the story organising and house painting, tree felling...  I'm kind of exhausted.  :)  Have a great week everybody.  

A.J. Ponder 

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