Better Fiction: The Blog

Edit: See the "feedback" for a comment from author Jeffrey Overstreet.

The Birth of Colors

Jeffrey Overstreet
Weaving "Auralia Thread":
A landscape bleak
Painted in my head,
Holding back colors,
Folded away
Forgotten away
Creativity's dead.

It's not about others
Far far away
So far away
Creativity's dead,
But for Auralia
Bring us Auralia.
Paint us instead.

Creativity's dead.

Dying and dead,
The sunset is brown
And the morning is gray,
And the beige of this world
Sweeps the rubies away,
But for Auralia,
Bring us Auralia,
Paint us instead.

Inside our heads...

This is the last day the CSFF Blog Tour gets to tell you about the second book in the Auralia Thread series, Cyndere's Midnight by Jeffrey Overstreet, but you can visit him any time at his web site.

What if a world folded up its imagination and tucked it away? What if? Look around you. The world he writes about is our own.

Check out what the rest of the CSFF Blog Tour has to say:

Brandon Barr
Keanan Brand
Rachel Briard
Melissa Carswell
Valerie Comer
Amy Cruson
CSFF Blog Tour
Stacey Dale
D. G. D. Davidson
Shane Deal
Jeff Draper
April Erwin
Karina Fabian
Andrea Graham
Todd Michael Greene
Katie Hart
Timothy Hicks
Jason Isbell
Jason Joyner
Kait
Carol Keen
Magma
Rebecca LuElla Miller
Eve Nielsen
Nissa
Wade Ogletree
John W. Otte
John Ottinger
Steve Rice
Crista Richey
Alice M. Roelke
Chawna Schroeder
James Somers
Rachel Starr Thomson
Robert Treskillard
Steve Trower
Speculative Faith
Fred Warren
Jill Williamson

Until next time,

Wade Ogletree

We continue to be inspired by Jabberwocky and so move on in search of other examples of nonsense poetry:

From "The Book of Nonsense"

by Edward Lear

There was a Young Person of Smyrna,
Whose Grandmother threatened to burn her;
But she seized on the cat,
And said, 'Granny, burn that!
You incongruous Old Woman of Smyrna!'

A Different Christmas Poem
by LCDR Jeff Giles, SC, USN

The embers glowed softly, and in their dim light,
I gazed round the room and I cherished the sight.
My wife was asleep, her head on my chest,
My daughter beside me, angelic in rest.
Outside the snow fell, a blanket of white,
Transforming the yard to a winter delight.

The sparkling lights in the tree I believe,
Completed the magic that was Christmas Eve.
My eyelids were heavy, my breathing was deep,
Secure and surrounded by love I would sleep.
In perfect contentment, or so it would seem,
So I slumbered, perhaps I started to dream.

The sound wasn't loud, and it wasn't too near,
But I opened my eyes when it tickled my ear.
Perhaps just a cough, I didn't quite know, Then the
sure sound of footsteps outside in the snow.
My soul gave a tremble, I struggled to hear,
And I crept to the door just to see who was near.

Standing out in the cold and the dark of the night,
A lone figure stood, his face weary and tight.
A soldier, I puzzled, some twenty years old,
Perhaps a Marine, huddled here in the cold.
Alone in the dark, he looked up and smiled,
Standing watch over me, and my wife and my child.

'What are you doing?' I asked without fear,
'Come in this moment, it's freezing out here!
Put down your pack, brush the snow from your sleeve,
You should be at home on a cold Christmas Eve!'
For barely a moment I saw his eyes shift,
Away from the cold and the snow blown in drifts.

To the window that danced with a warm fire's light
Then he sighed and he said 'Its really all right,
I'm out here by choice. I'm here every night.'
'It's my duty to stand at the front of the line,
That separates you from the darkest of times.

No one had to ask or beg or implore me,
I'm proud to stand here like my fathers before me.
My Gramps died at ' Pearl on a day in December,'
Then he sighed, 'That's a Christmas 'Gram always remembers.'
My dad stood his watch in the jungles of ' Nam ',
And now it is my turn and so, here I am.

I've not seen my own son in more than a while,
But my wife sends me pictures, he's sure got her smile.
Then he bent and he carefully pulled from his bag,
The red, white, and blue... an American flag.
I can live through the cold and the being alone,
Away from my family, my house and my home.

I can stand at my post through the rain and the sleet,
I can sleep in a foxhole with little to eat.
I can carry the weight of killing another,
Or lay down my life with my sister and brother..
Who stand at the front against any and all,
To ensure for all time that this flag will not fall.'

' So go back inside,' he said, 'harbor no fright,
Your family is waiting and I'll be all right.'
'But isn't there something I can do, at the least,
'Give you money,' I asked, 'or prepare you a feast?
It seems all too little for all that you've done,
For being away from your wife and your son.'

Then his eye welled a tear that held no regret,
'Just tell us you love us, and never forget.
To fight for our rights back at home while we're gone,
To stand your own watch, no matter how long.
For when we come home, either standing or dead,
To know you remember we fought and we bled.
Is payment enough, and with that we will trust,
That we mattered to you as you mattered to us.'

LCDR Jeff Giles, SC, USN
30th Naval Construction Regiment
OIC, Logistics Cell One
Al Taqqadum, Iraq

Note: A friend sent this to me. I assume that this was written by LCDR Jeff Giles, SC, USN as indicated, and I share it with you as a timely reminder for Christmas.

Wade Ogletree

Note: I'm amazed by the popularity of this page. Thanks for visiting. Post a reply in "feedback" so I know who's visiting. Thanks. (Edit: 3/21/2009)

***

"Jabberwocky" Translated

It was about four in the evening,
and the lithe and slimy toves
(being a cross between a badger, a lizard, and a corkscrew)
went round and round like gyroscopes,
making holes like a gimlet would
in the grass around their home under the sundial,
and miserable and flimsy were some shabby, mop-like birds,
while green pigs (having lost their way) let out something
between a bellow and a whistle with a sneeze in the middle.

"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the bird of perpetual passion, and shun
The fuming, furious Bandersnatch
(being a swift moving, snapping animal with an extendable neck)!"

He took the Word of God in hand
(or it might have been just a "deadly sword"):
Long time the fearsome foe he sought—
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood awhile in thought.

And as in thought he stood,
his voice gruffish, his manner roughish, his temper huffish,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came erratically through the dark, thick wood,
Forming bubbles as it came!
(Or, if not forming bubbles,
then it was making a sound that was a mix
between a bleat, a murmur, and a warble.)

One, two! One, two! and through and through
The vorpal blade* went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went triumphantly galloping back.

"And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my smiling, happy boy!
O fair, fabulous, joyous day! Call yahoo! Call hooray!"
He snorted as he chuckled in his joy.

It was about four in the evening,
and the lithe and slimy toves
(being a cross between a badger, a lizard, and a corkscrew)
went round and round like gyroscopes,
making holes like a gimlet would
in the grass around their home under the sundial,
and miserable and flimsy were some shabby, mop-like birds,
while green pigs (having lost their way) let out something
between a bellow and a whistle with a sneeze in the middle.

*vorpal blade was translated in verse two

This translation was based on definitions found in the Urban Dictionary and Wikipedia and was translated by Wade Ogletree. Better Fiction is the online home of short story author Wade Ogletree and the Better Fiction Critique Forum and Writers' Group .

Stop by for a visit,

Wade Ogletree

***

Jabberwocky
By Lewis Carroll
From "Through the Looking Glass"

'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.

Wade Ogletree

According to the Urban Dictionary, "brillig" means about 4 PM.

Based on that source and Wikipedia, the first verse of "Jabberwocky", by Lewis Carroll:

It was about four in the evening,
and the lithe and slimy toves
(being a cross between a badger, a lizard, and a corkscrew)
went round and round like gyroscopes,
making holes like a gimlet would
in the grass around their home under the sundial,
and miserable and flimsy were some shabby, mop-like birds,
while green pigs (having lost their way) let out something
between a bellow and a whistle with a sneeze in the middle.

I just thought you might like to know.

Had the poem in mind since I mentioned it in the last post. By the way, thanks for the feedback and the suggestions. Having hurt my back this week, I haven't worked much on the project, but I hope to get back to it soon.

The problem is how to expand our creative borders as writers. Keep the suggestions coming.

Wade Ogletree