Portmanteaux - Nonsense Makes Sense

'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 has 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.

I was experimenting with shots on a reflective piece of tin and this shot warped just enough towards the bottom. I recall the movie Science of Sleep. But I also recall the Jabberwocky. It made me think about how evocative dreams are. But more or less how reality can truly be strange all on its own.

Here is a translation of the portmanteaux.


It was four o'clock in the afternoon and the slimy, lithe badger
corkscrewed in the grass circle of the sundial:
All miserable and flimsy were the feathered mop birds
and lost green pigs whistled and bellowed.

"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the desperate passionate bird, and shun
The fuming, furious creature with snapping jaws!"

He took his verbal/gospel sword in hand:
Long time the fearsome foe he sought --
So he rested by the Tumtum drum tree,
And stood awhile in thought

And while in rough and gruff thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the thick dark woods,
And warbled as it came!

One, two! One, two! and through and through
The verbal/gospel blade sliced and hacked!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galloping triumphantly back.

"And has thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beaming boy!
O beautiful and fabulous a day! Callooh! Callay!"
He chortled in his joy.

It was four o'clock in the afternoon and the slimy, lithe badger
corkscrewed in the grass circle of the sundial:
All miserable and flimsy were the feathered mop birds
and lost green pigs whistled and bellowed.