Today's word is
Ah, that's a nice word. I'm going to think about it for a while and get back here with something later.
Meanwhile, you know what to do...
*****
12:27 p.m.
Okay, here's what I've got:
The Last Cat
He was once a "wild rover,"
but love of a full belly
and a warm bed
changed all that.
Once he almost killed someone
for purporting to love
a catnip sock
as much as he did.
Now he sits on a descendent
of that sock and drools
and sometimes falls asleep.
His sinecure in my lap
now goes unchallenged.
There are no others
demanding turns.
Life is good. The bed is his.
Sometimes, though, he
wanders the house
crying out in his strange,
always wanting voice,
sniffing at old toys
no one plays with anymore,
at doorways no one else rubs.
He'll stop if you pick him up,
hold him close, your face
in his neck fur,
and cradle in your warm hand
his tiny, cold feet.
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.
Posted by: leslee | October 14, 2005 at 08:55 AM
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.
Posted by: moose | October 14, 2005 at 11:30 AM
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!
Posted by: Sara | October 14, 2005 at 12:56 PM
Ugh. Way too many uses of the word "too" in that comment. Sorry; sometimes I gush.
Posted by: Sara | October 14, 2005 at 12:58 PM
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.
Posted by: moose | October 14, 2005 at 05:10 PM
I love it. :-)
Posted by: leslee | October 14, 2005 at 10:57 PM
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. :)
Posted by: Sara | October 14, 2005 at 11:10 PM
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.
Posted by: moose | October 15, 2005 at 01:18 PM
"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!
Posted by: Darlene | October 15, 2005 at 04:25 PM
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!
Posted by: Sara | October 15, 2005 at 04:40 PM