Old Sam Gamgee sighed. The eldest children had come to visit Bag End and brought their own children with them. He cooked a great supper for hobbit big and little. But now the meal was over and it was given to him to look after the grandchildren.

"What am I to do with you?" Sam asked the little ones as he herded them away from the table.

"Tell us a story!" They clamored. "An adventure. Tell us about the War of the Ring!"

Sam sighed again. "I'm afraid that's too long. Some of you need to be tucked in shortly. But what about a song?"

Sam had been slowly putting words to an old walking tune, known well in the Shire. The chorus was simple and Sam taught it to the young hobbits before starting:

"I've been east, I've been west

But of all the places, home is the best"

When the children had mastered it, they sang it heartily after each of Sam's verses:

while i slouched, nearly stooping, suddenly there came a booping, as of someone gently booping, booping at my chamber door. tis some mutual, i said, booping at my chamber door. only this and nothing more.

please read all the additions in the notes! <3

This was on my whiteboard when I came out of the shower today

my name is kow

and wen it’s nyght

and wen blood moon 

is shiyning bright

and all souls dance

at Hell’s command

I stay up late

I lik the damned.

@thetimetravellercat @hedgehog-moss

There’s a wonderful Welsh poem about a fox called Y Llwynog, by R. Williams Parry. I think the last lines are especially beautiful:

Unhurriedly and without fear he went

And it was done: beyond the ridge red fur

Flashed for an instant, like a falling star.

trans. by David Sutton source

Thank you to all the people who made suggestions! This was most helpful as I was still struggling to find something fitting that I liked.

In the end, I decided to go with this translated Welsh poem because I found it really beautiful in many ways and because the fox is an important detail of that bookmark.

...also, I forgot I could have a very tiny handwriting without even trying that hard, so in a misguided attempt at wanting to make sure everything would fit on the back, I ended up with a bunch of free space and thus turned it into a multilingual bookmark by adding Matin d'Octobre by François Coppée (who was unknown to me but I really enjoyed his poem, so thank you Madame Hedgehog-Moss 🍁)

And as I'm pretty sure the recipient of this gift does not use Tumblr, here is how it turned out to thank you all for your input :)

i remembered that there is a fox in the little prince, i don't think i could reliably quote more of that passage than the end, "please, tame me!"

we have to write sonnets again for class, and I panicked and chose one of the only topics I know about

i ended up liking how gendered french is solely because i can say that i want people to use he/him pronouns for me the same way they use it for angels, blood and blunts

i asked a trans friend to give me her fem version of this and she said that people should use she/her with her the same way they use it for the sea, flesh and stuffed toys

I don’t speak French but I speak Spanish and I’m nonbinary so the whole gendered language thing is… difficult. I couldn’t get this post out of my head and so I wrote a poem. It's a first draft but i just had to get it out there

It’s called “Masculino como el amor, femenino como la espada”

Translation: Masculine like love, feminine like the sword

no one speak to me this poem cut me open

alsdkfjalsdkj thaaaaanks! I made a few typos but i'm fairly proud of it hehe

I’m not Spanish speaking but oh gosh I would love to print this and hang it up somewhere

There was a young man from Peru

Whose limericks stopped at line two

There once was a man from Verdun

There once was a man from the sticks Whose limericks stopped at line six. They were fine till line five Then they took quite a dive — But the problem is easy to fix If you just ignore the last line, it doesn't even follow the rhyme scheme oh god I've really lost control of this thing I'm so sorry...

There once was a man

From Cork who got limericks

And haiku confused.

There once was a man from the sticks

Who liked to compose limericks

But he failed at the sport

Because he wrote them too short

@limerickshere

There once was a fellow named Dan, Whose poetry never would scan. When told this was so, He replied, "Yes, I know-- It's because I try to squeeze as many syllables into the last line as I possibly can."

On Tumblr queers, lasses, and lads Their way with fail poetry had. You're having your fun But you're fooling no one - It takes skill to do something this bad.

Ok I love this???

"baptise me in hot dog water"

Hot dog water - there's a Tumblr post out there I've seen saying hot dog water is the opposite of holy water, due to the fact that a single drop of it will contaminate what it touches. I assume this was partly inspired by this allusion but who knows for sure.

Also the the idea of holy water as inhuman and cleaning vs hot dog water as the remains of feeding someone - often a child - and entirely human. It may be dirty and I do not want it on me but God hot dog water has some memories. You will not wash away my sins. They're mine. Also, anyone can make hot dog water but holy water is refined, restricted (yes anyone can make it in an emergency but lay people are restricted from it)

"you and I both know"

Unlike baptism for babies, this one is done between two people who are both aware of what is happening. The one receiving the baptism gives the orders about what they want to happen. The giver and receiver are portrayed as equals. They are equally aware of their humanity.

"the holy stuff won't take"

Ooof heartbreaking, amazing line. Raises so many questions. What does it mean when the water "takes"? What has the receiver done that makes them unfit for holy water? Or, what has the holy water done that makes it to weak to help, to be a part of your life?

The poem as a whole - I love the lack of capitalization. It adds a sort of intimacy to the poem, and the statement from the speaker. The high words "baptise" and "holy" being offset by "take" and "hot dog". Also "hot dog water" vs "holy stuff." The cadence! I would lick it.

I love the serious analysis, and I think I find it persuasive.

This also sheds a lot of light on some plot points in Scooby Doo! Mystery Incorporated.

Not to turn this into another house full of chintz, but I'mma fuck this poem on the floor.

Meter

There are two readings of the poem's meter that I immediately identify, the first is how I'd want to read it, and the second is how a normal person would probably read it, but both make the same point.

In my interpretation (left), the first line is four wholely irregular feet: an iamb into a dibrach into two trochees; The second line is two trouches into a hanging stressed syllable; And the third line is three iambs.

In the more normal interpretation(right), the first line and second line are six trochees all together plus that hanging syllable in 'knowing' which transitions the poem to iambic trimeter.

And look at the interesting result of that laid bare:

In English poetry there's a tradition, all other things being equal, that iambs are considered the sophisticated foot with trochees often being contrasted as the vulgar or common foot.

The vulgar in specificity "hot dog water" is put in trochee, while the respectably vague "the holy stuff" is afforded iambs. Without the poet having thought of the stress things the pattern actively, this incapulation of the English poetic tradition is astounding. Especially when you consider the

Chiasmus

Chiasmus is a figure of rhetorical construction, in which two pairs of ideas are laid across each other, A B B A. It's one of the more popular figures of rhetoric and if you're looking for it you'll see it everywhere.

In the most literal sense, it's about repetition; but, you can apply it more liberally to ideas, thoughts, or in this case, parts of speech:

The nouns and verb pairs in the first and third lines crossover each other. They are in chiasmus. Structurally, the inversion makes the poem feel more solid, while still furthering emphasizing the contrast between the idea of hot dog water and the holy stuff.

Opening with a command and closing with a result.

as soon as I find the perfect fabric this bitch is getting cross stitched right on it

the vocabulary of loss is the dictionary

One for sorrow Two for joy Three for a girl Four for a boy Five for silver Six for gold Seven for a secret never to be told

Eight for a wish Nine for a kiss Ten for a chance you must not miss Eleven for a wasp Twelve for a bee Thirteen for a coffee Fourteen for tea

Fifteen for a pencil Sixteen for a pen Seventeen to hear these options once again

Eighteen for pepper Nineteen for salt Twenty for an accident in which you were not at fault

Twenty one for Jerry Twenty two for Tom Twenty three - where are all these magpies coming from?

Twenty five no seriously Thirty this is weird Forty eight from where have all these magpies suddenly appeared?

Sixty two stop counting Seventy just run Ninety nine the revolution of the magpies has begun

Two hundred no more sorrow Five hundred no more fears One thousand for how long the empire of the magpies will last in years

(John Finnemore)

A Request

by Ursula K. Le Guin

Should my tongue be tied by stroke listen to me as if I spoke

and said to you, "My dear, my friend, stay here a while and take my hand;

my voice is hindered by this clot, but silence says what I cannot,

and you can answer as you please such undemanding words as these.

Or let our conversation be a mute and patient amity,

sitting, all the words bygone, like a stone beside a stone.

It takes a while to learn to talk the long language of the rock."

Wait are we called mammals after mammary glands? Are mammals named after tits???

ARE WE THE BOOBS CLASS?

OH

We are. And we also named our galaxy after boob juice. Twice.

"milky way" is obviously milk, but the hidden part is that "galaxy" comes from the Greek γάλα (gála), meaning "milk".

It's the tit-goo path tit-goo-thing. We are very, very breast focused as a species.

Eukaryote (good-kernels) as opposed to prokaryotes(before-kernels). We are the Domain of Fortunate Cellular Nuclei.

Animalia (of the anima.) we are in the Kingdom of the Breathing, or the Air-Souled.

Of the Phylum (tribe or clan) Chordata (having a string). We are the Clan of the String, referencing the spinal cord.

Class Mammalia, of course. the division of the titties.

Order Primate, which is a bit stuck-up, but I suppose the people doing the naming get to pick. Primate is of course primary, or First/Highest. Interestingly, this is in the sense of it being a job; a primate is a bishop of Christianity. This is reflected in the medieval Scala Naturae, where “primate” is an office held by the “natural” or divinely appointed top being in each tier of existence. Seraphim are the primate angels; humans are the primate people; lions are the primate animals; oak trees are the primate plants; and diamonds are the primate minerals. Translating the intent here, we are the Order of Ordained Authority, which we share with other natural bosses such as lemurs.

Depending how you want to do this, we are also suborder Haplorhini, the dry-nosed. This is separated from wet-nosed apes.

After this we land in the repetition of Homina-homina-homina-homina where there are several classes that drill down ever further, all of them rooted in “hominid.” Everyone knows homo is “man, human” but the root of why it’s “man” is because it is first “earth”. Human means “earthling”, and is rooted in “not-divine.” We are the family, subfamily, tribe and genus of earthlings.

By the time you get to species we are very lonely indeed, with only one species in our genus. This is actually a terrifically lonely place, and in this we are “sapiens.” This doesn’t mean just “wise” but “being wise,” which is more of a duty than a descriptor.

When you put it in context: Domain of Fortunate Nuclei, Kingdom of the Air-Souled, Clan of the String, Class of Milky Boobs, Order of the Bosses, Family of Earthlings, Tribe of Earthlings, People of Earth, Earthlings, Thinking Earthlings.

The point of taxonomy does seem to be making oneself a box that excludes all others in order to feel properly lonely and alone in it; one’s place in the world defined until one is alone. however, zooming out a bit, it does make for some stirring company.

The May Queen and other poems / Alfred Lord Tennyson ; designed, written out and illuminated by Alberto Sangorski. Rubricated and illuminated. Colophon: "This manuscript, selected poems of Alfred Lord Tennyson, The May Queen, The sea fairies, The beggar maid, Hero to Leander, and Dora was designed, written out, and illuminated by Alberto Sangorski for Messrs. R. Rivière & Son bookbinders & booksellers to H.M. King George V. London. This manuscript will not be duplicated. This manuscript was executed by me [signed] Alberto Sangorski London A.D. 1912."-- P. [63] Rare Book Collection, Detroit Public Library

No blog is an island, Entire of itself. Each is a piece of the site, A part of the web. If a tag be deleted accidentally, Tumblr is the less. As well as if a post were. As well as if a sideblog of thine own Or of thine friend's were. Each deactivation diminishes me, For I am involved in my dash. Therefore, send not to know For whom the paw boops, It boops for thee.