I Don't Know What Came Over Me

Then There Was The Time I Lost My Mind for a Month

What is it?

  • This site the fault of Leslee and Patry, via Qarrtsiluni.

    Here's the premise:

    Every day, Dictionary.com publishes a Word of the Day. I will display it here. If I like the word, I will try to come up with a poem using it by the end of the day. If you like the word, go ahead and write your own poem and post it in the comments, also by the end of the day, if you can.

    While you are here, please play nicely with others. Spam will be summarily deleted, as will anything obviously abusive or malicious in my opinion. Also, please note that everything written here remains the intellectual property of whoever wrote it. Therefore, you are not allowed to copy or republish anything here unless whoever wrote the bit you want to use tells you in writing that it's okay.

    Problems? Comments? Write to me, Sara, at SaraArts dot com.

    Have fun with this!

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Comments

leslee

It just occurred to me that some of these words aren't going to be great to use *in* a poem, but could inspire the content - sort of the way Dave Bonta feeds off the Zweig poems but sometimes very loosely.

moose

You are absolutely right, Leslee. I thought yesterday, with "conurbation" -- an awkward word, if ever I heard one -- that another possibility is using the word for or in a title only.

Sara

Yes, you both have a point, and I don't see why you shouldn't do that if that's how a given word takes you. I, too, considered writing a poem named "Sinecure" for today -- on a totally other subject than the one I ended up choosing. And I still might write that other poem, too, if I have time. But continuing to mull it over while my day developed eventually revealed this other application, too, one I just couldn't resist.

I hope other people will use this exercise in ways that best suit their own creative ends. It's your poem, your day, your word. Enjoy!

Sara

Ugh. Way too many uses of the word "too" in that comment. Sorry; sometimes I gush.

moose

Oh My Child

These are not my words I speak but those
Of my father or of my mother.
Where are my words?
I am sorry, I swore I would not do this. But
I look down and these are not my hands but hands
made of my father's and of my mother's hands.
Where are my hands?
I know what you are thinking. The same thoughts
I thought when I was young, and your
Father had those same thoughts about his parents.
Whose sighs are these?
And these are not our sighs but sighs we have both
Heard before. There is no sinecure for parenting
Or childhood.

leslee

I love it. :-)

Sara

I love it, too. Great work, Moose. I love the line "I am sorry, I swore I would not do this." So simple -- and so universal. :)

moose

Thank you. It took me a while to get out of the "sinecure=an office, job, career" mindset. I'm using it a little liberally here, so I hope it works.

Sara, I enjoyed your poem. On first reading, I thought perhaps you would stop at the first dramatic pause, when the cat has secured his sinecure, but you didn't. You went on to the more poignant last 2 stanzas and I was glad for it. And that last line - "his tiny, cold feet" - almost makes him sound like a helpless kitten again, like he's gone full circle.

Darlene

"If you don't eventually give us the definition of this word, that would be a sinecure move on your part, right?"--how's this for an example, for word usage? Wow, you're a wordmeister, too! Just found your sites and fell in love with them!

Sara

Har har. Actually, if you click on the word of the day, the definition at Dictionary.com will open in a new window. I don't want to copy definitions here because I don't want to infringe anybody's copyright.

Cheers!

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