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Silly Poetry Friday 3

What time is it? Why it's Silly Poetry time, of course! Apologies for posting late today – I had to finish up a special project before I tackled anything else. But I'm here now, and I'm silly! Who's with me?

Today's silly poem is very, very special to me. I adore the nonsense writing of Edward Lear, and The Jumblies is my favourite Lear poem, even more than The Owl and The Pussy-Cat. The first time I ever heard The Jumblies (and yes, I heard it the first time, as opposed to reading it) I was actually watching television, many years ago. Instead of enduring yet another annoying ad, I was introduced to a National Film Board short film. Some gentleman with a deep and haunting voice recited The Jumblies, while magical old images of stamps moved across the screen. I was mesmerized. The poem terrified me to my very core. And when the narrator said the words "the hills of the Chankly Bore!" chills went up and down my spine. Who wrote this poem? I had to find out! So did I run to the nearest library (this was before Google, remember) and search my little heart out? Nah. I asked Mom, the walking encyclopaedia. "It's the Jumblies, silly. Didn't you learn that in school?" Mom uses that line on me a lot. "What do you mean you don't know what Tabula Rasa means? Didn't you learn Latin in school?" "Uhhh...Mom...I don't think they've taught Latin in public schools for a long time"...but I digress. Anyway, has anyone else seen that film?

Now please bear with me with this poem post, because The Jumblies is quite long, and I'm going to be self-indulgent (or shall I say even more self-indulgent than I usually am as a blogger) and post collage images I created while  I was a student in graphic design school.  For one of my art projects I decided to make a little illustrated book of the poem The Jumblies, using mostly images from old magazines. And yes, I know I posted some of these images on my blog a couple years ago, but so what. It's my blog!

Ok. Enough yapping. Behold The Jumblies.

Jumbliescover_2

THE JUMBLIES

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.

Jumblies1

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.

Jumblies2
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.

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.

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.

Jumblies3_2

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.

Jumblies4_2

Jumblies5_4

Good Granny/Bad Granny Contest!

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Ok, folks – sharpen your writing utensils and let the fun begin! It's what you've all been waiting for, I'm sure – The Good Granny/Bad Granny Contest, where you send me your best Good Granny and/or Bad Granny stories.

Here are the contest rules:
Email to me your best Good Granny and/or your best Bad Granny story. You can either write the story within the email, or send an attachment, either a Word file or Rich Text Format. You can submit in both categories, but you can only win in one category. It increases your chances of winning, and makes my reading experiences that much more enjoyable, don't you think? When you send the email, just make sure the subject heading says something like 'Contest' or 'Good Gran/Bad Gran Contest', or 'GG/BG Contest'.

Do try and keep the stories relatively short. Please try for a maximum of 600 words. I don't mind if you go over that count a little, but no novelettes, please.

The stories can be written by people who are discussing their own Good/Bad Grannies, or by an actual Good/Bad Granny herself, sharing one of her own delicious Good/Bad Granny tales. Or if your mom or mother-in-law is a Good or Bad Granny, you can write about her, too.

When writing a Good Granny story, obviously I'm looking for sweet, adorable, loving yarns. Something to pull at my heart strings. Here are a couple of Good Granny illos from the Good Granny/Bad Granny book, to help inspire you:

Gg1_2Gg2_2

Regarding Bad Granny stories, I'm looking for tales about those non-traditional Grannies – the ones who 'Granny outside of the box' so to speak. Maybe your Granny was/is hip and edgy, or maybe you are the funky Granny who doesn't knit booties, but knows how to make one hell of a good martini. Or maybe you had a crusty Granny who smoked cigars, loved her whiskey and swore like a sailor. I like those kind of Bad Granny stories, too. But I think I can live without the Granny who whipped your hide with a wooden spoon and held your hand over the burner to teach you a lesson. That would depress me too much, sorry. Here are the respective Bad Granny illos to help you on that Bad Granny writing path:Bg1_2Bg2_3

The deadline for the contest is Friday, October 26th, so you've got plenty of time to get those Granny stories started. Please send those stories, and  please don't worry about making it an astounding literary work of art – I just want an entertaining, honest tale, told straight from the heart.

So what's in it for you? Well, if you win, you will receive a signed copy by the artist of Good Granny/Bad Granny. Yes, that would be me. Aren't you thrilled? I will be giving out four signed books in total – two books going to the two best Good Granny stories, and two books going to the two best Bad Granny stories. Winners will be contacted via email on November 1st. I will officially announce the winners on this blog Monday November 5th. Please note that I will be posting the stories written by all four winners on this blog. Heck – what's the point of winning if you don't gloat and share?

If  you have any questions regarding this contest, please write them in the comments. I need to know if I've missed any important details, or if the rules aren't clear enough. Eventually I'll be adding a link on the sidebar of this blog to a page about this contest, once I figure out how the heck to do that.

A big thank-you must go out to the folks at Raincoast Books for providing the Good Granny/Bad Granny books for this contest. And here's Mary McHugh's web site, the talented author of Good Granny/Bad Granny. And take a gander at Mary's delightful video where she discusses some of her favourite Good Granny/Bad Granny examples, and then finishes with some wonderful tap dancing!

So c'mon! Get yer Granny on!

Because She Felt Like It

Typewriter Metalandfelt

Well don't this just beat all. An amazingly talented and tenacious young lady by the name of Blythe from Halifax, Nova Scotia has sewn herself an Underwood typewriter made entirely of felt. Why, you may ask? Why not? You can see more pictures of this astounding creation here. And take the time to view her many other creations, too. I mean, how many people do you know who can create a Pentax camera and adorable robots out of felt?

Big fat thanks to Tim from Baby Got Books for bringing this gem to my attention!

Silly Poetry Friday 2

Goodness gracious gosh golly willikins! Is it Friday already? Time for another silly poem, folks! The weekend's almost here, so get a nice cuppa tea, sit yourself down and put on your very best silly hat.

This poem comes to you from the quirky and queer author and illustrator Mervyn Peake. You may know the man from his Gormenghast books, but did you know that he also wrote nonsense verse? Well, he did, and here's one of 'em:

CROWN ME WITH HAIRPINS

Crown me with hairpins intertwined
Into a wreath each hairpin lined
With plush that only spinsters find
At night beneath huge sofas where
The feathers, wool and straw and hair
Bulge through a lining old as time
And secret as a beldam's lair
Of ghostly grime.

Tired aunts who live on sphagnum moss
Are quite the best to ask, because
They are less likely to get cross
Than those less ancient ones who still
Peer coyly from the window-sill,
Until their seventieth year.
Go find an old and tired one,
Secure the hairpin; then have done
With your relations, dear.

Crownmewithhairpins
Illustration by Mervyn Peake.

I Like My Arts Lyte

Lytearts

Believe it or not, there is such a thing as too much Patricia. But if you're not quite sick of me yet, there's a lovely interview to be found in this beautiful and brand spanking new online magazine Lyte.Arts. Just get to the Table of Contents, and you'll find me. There's also a great interview with the very talented and successful illustrator Marcos Chin, who now lives and works in New York (perhaps you'll recognize his work – he's the guy who did those sexy illustrations for Lavalife). How I got to be in the same issue as Mr. Chin just boggles the mind. And do take the time to explore the whole issue – it's a beautiful layout, and a really top-notch design job by a group of very talented students from OCAD. Funny thing is, the Ontario College of Art and Design is the one art school that I really wish I had attended. I was always a tad envious of the cool kids who studied at OCAD. So it's kinda neat to be a part of their first issue. Hell, it's really neat. Thanks, guys!

Vulgar Tongue 3

Vulgartongue3

Silly Poetry Friday

Many months ago, the delightful Callie of Counterbalance asked me to contribute to a blog conversation about poetry. I kept meaning to, but life tends to get in the way, and sadly I put my poetry thoughts on the back burner. The waaaay back burner. But I didn't forget, Callie!

I love poetry, and I just don't read enough of it. Often my preferences depend upon my mood, just like my book-reading habits. Had I made the effort to contribute to Callie's great poetry discussion, I would have said that I wish humorous and silly poetry got a bit more attention. Just because a poem rhymes, doesn't mean it does not have merit. In fact, writing clever poetry that does rhyme is actually quite difficult. I know. I used to do quite a bit of it when I was young and silly (Now I'm just old and silly).

I've been noticing that quite a few book blogs have these special 'Poetry Friday' posts, and I've really been enjoying them. So in the spirit of that theme, I have created a new category – Silly Poetry Friday – where I will post a witty, clever and/or totally silly poem to welcome everyone to the wonderful weekend. Sound silly? I hope so!

I thought I'd get off to a very silly start and post a poem written by the very talented Shel Silverstein, who was not only a poet, but also a musician, cartoonist and children's author. This poem is from Where The Sidewalk Ends: the poems and drawings of Shel Silverstein.

HUG O' WAR

I will not play at tug o' war.
I'd rather play at hug o' war.
Where everyone hugs
Instead of tugs,
Where everyone giggles
And rolls on the rug,
Where everyone kisses,
And everyone grins,
And everyone cuddles,
And everyone wins.

Hugowar_2

A Qwerty Kind of Love

Qwerty1

It's true what they say – love will strike you when you least expect it. Yes, I've been thinking of him off and on for years, hoping that one day I'd find the right one, but deep down inside I was doubtful of my chances. Then today, I saw him. All alone, off to one corner, looking a little sad and tattered, but still self-assured and very solid. I smiled. He did not respond. So I walked up to him, and caressed him lightly with my fingertips, and that's when I knew it was all over for me. Throwing caution to the wind, I called a cab and took him home.

Qwerty2

Qwerty3

Qwerty4

What can I say? I'm a sucker for a man of letters.

Random Readings 12

Worldtocome

"Remember the story you learned as a child: When the hour arrives for us to proceed to the next world, there will be two bridges to it, one made of iron and one made of paper," Peretz intoned. His words were heavy, but his voice floated on rings of smoke, a breath of fire and ash waiting to descend and consume them. Der Nister swallowed, breathing in the master's air. "The wicked will run to the iron bridge, but it will collapse under their weight. The righteous will cross the paper bridge, and it will support them all. Paper is the only eternal bridge. Your purpose as a writer is to achieve one task, and one task only: to build a paper bridge to the world to come."

– from The World To Come by Dara Horn

Lately I've been trying to only read one book at a time – I used to do this more often when I was younger, and seemed to have a never-ending supply of time at my disposal. But as an adult I find it very hard to ignore this sense of urgency as one ages – the realization that it's over so fast, and that this isn't a dress rehearsal for anything else (in spite of that appealing title). I prefer to read one book at a time, but it's that nagging urgency that compels me sometimes to pile on the stories. Problem is, if you eat too much at once, you can't taste anything. For reasons beyond my understanding, Kalooki Nights and The World To Come are pulling at me from different directions. What is so fascinating to me is that the subject matter in both books are so similar – neurotic, troubled Russian Jewish male protagonists, a friend/enemy who has a dramatic effect on his past and present, the authors' interest in the history of Jews in Russia, the significance of artists in the novels (in one a cartoonist, and in the other, an author and illustrator of children's books). What does it all signify? I can't wait to find out.

Bloor West Toonin'/Town Cryin' 10

Towncrieraug07dogstoon

I got to double my pleasure this month! Two cartoons for the Town Crier. The first one I drew because as we all know, summer is all about dogs. They are everywhere (and hopefully on leashes) running about, sniffing, barking, and gernerally having a grand ol' time. I'm sure they don't miss wearing silly coats and booties during those cold winter months. And yes, I drew a pug in the pic again. I can't help myself – I really wanna pug! Sniff!

Towncriertoonaug07mirvish

The other cartoon is to honour the wonderful Ed Mirvish, who passed away last month at the age of 92. He did so much for this city – giving birth to the Entertainment District, revitalising the live theatre industry, giving out those free turkeys every Christmas – a man who came from nothing and contributed so much. He will be sadly missed. I'm not entirely thrilled with the drawing of him, but it was the best I could do under a tight deadline. He was hard to draw, I confess, and for some reason I keep thinking of Zippy the Pinhead when I look at the drawing. Mea Culpa, Ed!

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