Tag Archives: nonsense poetry

Unforgettable nonsense: Mervyn Peake, ‘Lean Sideways on the Wind’

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Lean sideways on the wind, and if it bears
Your weight, you are a daughter of the Dawn —
If not, pick up your carcass, dry your tears,
Brush down your dress — for that sweet elfin horn

You thought you heard was from no fairyland —
Rather it flooded through the kitchen floor,
From where your Uncle Eustace and his band
Of flautists turn my cellar, more and more

Into a place of hollow and decay:
That is my theory, darling, anyway.

*****

Another one of Mervyn Peake‘s poems from ‘A Book of Nonsense’, collected by his widow Maeve Gilmore. He was casually proficient with iambic pentameter — there are several passages in Titus Groan, the first of his Gormenghast books, where several lines of iambics are unobtrusively buried in the text, to be noticed only by slow readers like myself. Asking Quill, my ChatGPT, about this, I get:

Yes—there is published criticism addressing exactly this. The most directly relevant piece I found is R. W. (Robert) Maslen’s “Mervyn Peake, the Poet of Gormenghast,” in Miracle Enough: Papers on the Works of Mervyn Peake, edited by G. Peter Winnington (2013), pp. 127–138. Browse by Glasgow Author

You can read it free here: Mervyn Peake: The Poet of Gormenghast.

Maslen identifies three examples particularly relevant to your observation:

The final chapter: successive pentameters give the closing predictions an oracular quality, anticipating the sequel’s violence and upheaval.

The fight in the Hall of Spiders: the narration moves into iambic pentameter as the action takes on an epic character. Sepulchrave’s fragmented speech catches the same rhythm, associating his madness with Shakespearean tragedy.

Titus’s christening: the ritual text contains blank verse printed as prose—very much the unobtrusive insertion you describe.

*****

“Windy skirt” by Paula Satijn is licensed under CC BY-ND 2.0.

Unforgettable nonsense: Mervyn Peake, ‘I Cannot Give the Reasons’

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I cannot give the reasons,
I only sing the tunes:
the sadness of the seasons
the madness of the moons.

I cannot be didactic
or lucid, but I can
be quite obscure and practic-
ally marzipan

In gorgery and gushness
and all that’s squishified.
My voice has all the lushness
of what I can’t abide

And yet it has a beauty
most proud and terrible
denied to those whose duty
is to be cerebral.

Among the antlered mountains
I make my viscous way
and watch the sepia fountains
throw up their lime-green spray.

*****

Mervyn Peake (1911-1968) is now best known for his Gormenghast novels, but he was first known as a British artist, and his works are in the National Portrait Gallery, the Imperial War Museum and The National Archives. His poetry is very varied, and much of it is nonsense on the surface but with interesting depth. Peake was born in China, joining the list of foreign-born British-educated novelists that includes Kipling, Tolkien and Ishiguro.

As is useful for artists, he seems to have had extremely strong visualisation and a photographic memory. Fifty years ago in British Columbia I met a woman (whose name I don’t recall) who had known Peake as a youth. Apparently he particularly liked Kipling’s novel ‘Stalky & Co’ and knew it by heart. He handed her the copy he carried and told her to choose a page: she gave him the page number, and he then recited it from the top down.

“Titus Alone by Mervyn Peake” by Eckhart Public Library is licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 2.0.

Unforgettable Nonsense: A.E. Housman, ‘Hallelujah!’

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‘Hallelujah!’ was the only observation
That escaped Lieutenant-Colonel Mary Jane,
When she tumbled off the platform in the station,
And was cut in little pieces by the train.
Mary Jane, the train is through yer!
Hallelujah! Hallelujah!
We shall gather up the fragments that remain.

*****

The Salvation Army is the only army I can think of that would have had female officers in Housman‘s time.

I first came across – and immediately learnt by heart – this poem in ‘The Puffin Book of Funny Verse’ compiled by Julia Watson and loaded with a great variety of illustrations. I highly, highly recommend the book for children… and all the young at heart.

Photo: “Salvation Army Band” by Sherlock77 (James) is licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 2.0.

Susan Jarvis Bryant, ‘Once Upon a Tortured Trope’

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Don’t ever judge crooks by their lovers, they say  
On book covers nailed to the wall.
The frog sends his kiss at the bend of the day
To Belle who is beast of the ball. 

As tough as a cucumber, cool as old boots, 
An untroubled damsel of flair
Is shooting for stars. When the pussy-owl hoots
She snares a short prince with blonde hair. 
  
They sail inky skies on a silver-lined dream
To greener scenes up in the hills.
But honey and moons aren’t as sweet as they seem 
When cats and dogs reign and milk spills.

His rose bears a thorn and his shoulder, a chip. 
Hyenas have stolen his laughter.
All charm hits the skids as she grapples to slip 
The grip of his gripe ever after.

*****

Susan Jarvis Bryant writes: “I really don’t have anything to say about the poem, other than I had huge fun writing it. It’s the same with all of my poems – I never suffer for my art, which makes me reluctant to call myself a poet. I’d like to say I write my poems in a tearstained, whisky-soaked haze while my Muse tangos with the ghost of Dylan Thomas through Welsh valleys, but this is not so.  I just snigger away as the ink flows like a bad comedienne laughing at her own jokes.”

‘Once Upon a Tortured Trope’ was originally published in Snakeskin.

Susan Jarvis Bryant is originally from the U.K. and now lives on the coastal plains of Texas. Susan has poetry published on The Society of Classical Poets, Lighten Up Online, Snakeskin, Light, Sparks of Calliope, and Expansive Poetry Online, The Road Not Taken, and New English Review. She also has poetry published in The Lyric, Trinacria, and Beth Houston’s Extreme Formal Poems and Extreme Sonnets II anthologies. Susan is the winner of the 2020 International SCP Poetry Competition and was nominated for the 2022 and 2024 Pushcart Prize. She has published two books – Elephants Unleashed and Fern Feathered Edges.

Art: AI + RHL

David Galef, ‘How to Say “Thank You” Abroad’

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Donkey, mercy, grassy ass,
Effin’ Christ, something with God?
Spacey bow and airy ghetto,
Tic-tac-toe—or smile and nod.

Glossary: danke, merci, gracias, efcharisto, deo gratias, spasibo, arigatō, tak.

*****

David Galef comments: “The idea for this short (previously unpublished) poem came to me years ago when I was learning Japanese, and the mnemonic for the phrase “you’re welcome” (dō itashimashite) was explained to me as “don’t touch my mustache.” From there, it was a short step to “airy ghetto” for arigatō or “thank you.” A recent bout of Spanish language instruction yielded “grassy ass,” not that gracias is hard to remember, and the rest, as they say, is hiss Tory. As you can see in the poem, I’ve got eight or so examples, and I’d welcome more.”

David Galef has published over two hundred poems in magazines ranging from Light and Measure to The Yale Review. He’s also published two poetry volumes, Flaws and Kanji Poems, as well as two chapbooks, Lists and Apocalypses. His latest book is the novel Where I Went Wrong. In real life, he directs the creative writing program at Montclair State University.

Photo: “universal thank you note” by woodleywonderworks is licensed under CC BY 2.0.

Unforgettable nonsense: Christopher Isherwood, ‘The Common Cormorant or Shag’

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The common cormorant (or shag)
Lays eggs inside a paper bag,
The reason you will see no doubt,
Is to keep the lightning out.
But what these unobservant birds
Have never noticed is that herds
Of wandering bears may come with buns
And steal the bags to hold the crumbs.

*****

There are a couple of anomalies about this poem. First, some people doubt that it is by Christopher Isherwood, because the poem had been circulating anonymously since 1938 but didn’t appear under his name until 1982 in his nonsense-animals collection ‘People One Ought To Know’. But he had actually written the collection as early as 1928, as I gather here. Secondly, cormorants and shags are similar but different birds of the same family, at least in current terminology; however as Wikipedia says, ‘No consistent distinction exists between cormorants and shags. The names “cormorant” and “shag” were originally the common names of the two species of the family found in Great Britain.’ And anyway, it’s a nonsense poem, so who really cares? It is amusing, and easy to memorise because it is in verse.

Illustration: “Common Cormorant from Birds of America (1827) by John James Audubon (1785 – 1851), etched by Robert Havell (1793 – 1878). The original Birds of America is the most expensive printed book in the world and a truly awe-inspiring classic.” by Free Public Domain Illustrations by rawpixel is licensed under CC BY 2.0.

Unforgettable nonsense: Anon, ‘I Eat My Peas With Honey’

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I eat my peas with honey;
I’ve done it all my life.
It makes the peas taste funny,
But it keeps them on the knife.

*****

The staying power of well-turned nonsense rhymes is testament to the value of rhythm and rhyme for keeping something intact, perfectly remembered. The poem’s joke is well done, with a good punchline; but the word-for-word memorability comes from the magic of verse.

The Poetry Foundation recognises this poem as having been recited in the American comedy/quiz show ‘It Pays to Be Ignorant‘ on 2nd February 1944 (or more likely 7th February 1944), you can hear Harry McNaughton read it here, and my guess is that he (or another of the show’s writers) was the author. Apparently some people have thought it was written by Shel Silverstein (1930-1999), but this is denied by his Estate and its archivists. Others in the US have stated it is by Ogden Nash. In the UK it has been labeled as Spike Milligan’s. It is an object lesson in optimistic (i.e. false) attribution. But even in Arnold Silcock’s collection ‘Verse and Worse’ (Faber & Faber, 1952) it is only credited to Anonymous… whose birth was a long time ago, and whose death is not expected any time soon.

Photo: “I eat peas with honey – Day 101 of Project 365” by purplemattfish is licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 2.0.

Unforgettable nonsense: Samuel Wilberforce, ‘If I Were a Cassowary’

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If I were a cassowary
On the plains of Timbuctoo
I would eat a missionary,
Cassock, bands, and hymn-book too.

*****

Yes, cassowaries are from Australia and New Guinea, and Timbuktu is in Africa… but so what? The rhymes are too good to ignore. ‘Bands’, btw, refers to the pseudo-necktie thingies that priest-types and lawyer-types affect in some countries – little cloth flaps, plural because you wear two of them.

The probable author is Bishop Samuel “Soapy Sam” Wilberforce, best known nowadays for debating  Thomas Henry Huxley on evolution in 1860. Huxley (Aldous Huxley’s grandfather) was commonly referred to as ‘Darwin’s bulldog’. Wilberforce is remembered for his question as to whether it was through his grandmother or his grandfather that Huxley considered himself descended from a monkey. Huxley is said to have replied that he would not be ashamed to have a monkey for his ancestor, but he would be ashamed to be connected with a man who used his great gifts to obscure the truth.  Apparently everyone enjoyed the debate, and they all went off happily to dinner together afterwards.

Cassowaries are more formidable than either Wilberforce or Huxley. Standing over six feet tall, capable of running at 30 mph (and good swimmers in rivers and sea), and able to leap and strike chest-high with razor-sharp 5-inch talons, they are omnivores not to be confronted. Yes, they might well eat a missionary. Also, the cassowary’s bands are more impressive.

Photo: “Cassowary at the Budapest zoo” by brenkee is marked with CC0 1.0.

My own favourites: ‘No No Nse Nse’

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No
No
Nse
Nse
And things like that
May look like nonsense
But there is
No
No
Nse
Nse

*****

I know, I know… it’s not formal verse, but it’s one of my favourite pieces.

“Ecstatic Posture” by Dreaming in the deep south is licensed under CC BY 2.0.

Evocative Fragments: Edward Lear

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When awful darkness and silence reign
Over the great Gromboolian plain,
Through the long, long wintry nights; —
When the angry breakers roar
As they beat on the rocky shore; —
When Storm-clouds brood on the towering heights
Of the Hills of the Chankly Bore: —

Then, through the vast and gloomy dark,
There moves what seems a fiery spark,
A lonely spark with silvery rays
Piercing the coal-black night, —
A Meteor strange and bright: —
Hither and thither the vision strays,
A single lurid light.

It is, of course, the Dong With a Luminous Nose, wandering crazed through the forests seeking the Jumblie Girl he fell in love with. Edward Lear’s verse is known for its frivolous characters, actions and names, and his scribbly little drawings. But ignore the drawing and note the skill and control, the emotional pull, of the two stanzas above (even if he does sabotage them with words like “Gromboolian”). Similarly he was a remarkable artist when he wanted to be: one of the world’s great ornithological painters, a wonderful landscape artist, and well-enough respected to have given Queen Victoria a dozen lessons in drawing and watercolours in 1846.

Nonsense poetry in itself is a wonderful way to introduce children to literature, if it is handled as skilfully and, yes, emotionally as Lear does with his nonsense poems of travel, romance, heartbreak, and finding (or failing to find) lasting happiness.