wordsfromanneli

Thoughts, ideas, photos, and stories.


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The Royston Wrecks

In the late 1930s, in Comox Bay on Vancouver Island, near the town of Royston, it seems that a breakwater was needed to help prevent rough waters from breaking up  log booms before they could be towed to market.

 

About  fourteen decommissioned boats of various kinds were scuttled in a line to form a breakwater to protect the shoreline from the worst of the sloshing waves.

Now, about 100 years later, pieces of a few of the wrecks still remain.

But it is only a matter of time before the saltwater and southeast winds will rust and break up the last of the wrecks.

Meanwhile, they are a bit of a landmark (or seamark), fondly called:

 

“The Royston Wrecks”

 

We were not always carcasses of rust,

But fine in form, yet seaworthy, robust;

Our time had come, our breakup loomed ahead,

They dragged us to the beach to rot instead.

At least our strength allowed us to reclaim

Some semblance of our pride and long-term fame.

Though battered by the sea from time to time,

Our rusting hulls and decks beset by slime,

We rested firmly on the bar to break

The might of stormy waves that tried to shake

Us loose from settling on the rocky floor,

Where we regained our usefulness once more.

A hundred years, we sheltered yonder beach

And proudly kept the onslaught out of reach.


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Jabberwocky

Who lives under that log?

With Halloween just days away, I had a thought about dressing up as a Jabberwock with jaws that bite and claws that catch. I’m studying to speak the Jabberwock language for that special night. I can read it, but I can only guess at its meaning. How about you? Does it makes sense to you?

But if you consider the author of this crazy Jabberwocky, you might better understand why it’s a bit loony, and that he may have indulged in something illegal and mind-enhancing. Lewis Carroll, of Alice in Wonderland fame, had a great imagination.

 

Jabberwocky

by Lewis Carroll

 

‘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 though 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.


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When You Are Old

I‘ve always liked this poem by William Butler Yeats, but until today, I knew very little about the author. Having now read a summary of his life, it changed the meaning of the poem for me (not my positive feelings about it), and I’ve decided not to offer my opinion here until I hear what you, my readers, think about this poem.

When You Are Old

by William Butler Yeats

When you are old and gray and full of sleep,

And nodding by the fire, take down this book,

And slowly read, and dream of the soft look

Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;

 

How many loved your moments of glad grace,

And loved your beauty with love false or true;

But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,

And loved the sorrows of your changing face.

 

And bending down beside the glowing bars

Murmur, a little sadly, how love fled

And paced upon the mountains overhead

And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.