Friday, 15 April 2011

A is for Abstruse

Image courtesy of

It escapes me how it all started
I mean, these big words I carry around
The first time I used fundamental
I was expressing a point on the weather
Fundamental weather, I said
That was back in the day—in Class Six to be exact

This affair didn’t start yesterday
Of that we need to be clear:
I once combined four synonyms in a row
Tucked romantically in a love flow
I even had the audacity to squeeze in
Caranx lugubris ( A black jack, I learnt later)
Smack in the middle of a love sentence
(Forgive me, O dear reader, the ghosts in our closets!)

I read books not for knowledge’s sake
But to lift heavy words which cranes couldn’t pull
And somehow utilized them in some
Class discussion on the alkanes and alkynes
If they fit, I worried not

And now in my old age, in exasperation
I could shout iambic pentameter
To a rowdy youth in the streets
Of course he would be offended
What with a scowl creasing my face

Littered in my shack house
Will be torn Collegiate Dictionary, Thesaurus
A Paperback on World’s Most Difficult Words
And in equal measure scattered papers
All evidence of who I am

Latin defines me
I make pronouncing a caelo usque ad centrum
Sound like chicken fodder
Latin begot some of us
We make language spin

Speaking of which,
What a prenominal-herculian-ardous-whopper-of-a-poem
Has this old-geezer written?

C) Lorot Salem 2011

For  a prompt from Poets United Thursday Think Tank # Your First


Isabel Doyle said...

a first prize, definitely

Kim Nelson said...

Ah, yes, the beauty of language down to its roots!

Salem Lorot said...

@ Isabel Doyle, thank you for stopping by. You said first prize? Nah. An archetypical or rather prototypical accolade is more like it. The old geezer uses big words, ha ha.

@ Kim Nelson, welcome again.I agree with you.

Sherry Blue Sky said...

Oh Salem, this one cracked me up. Old geezer indeed - wait till they see your photo! I love the description of your home with the tattered books and scattered papers. A true poet, you are all about the words. I remember falling in love with certain words when I was eight........the word "paw" for instance, and I would write it down so carefully, loving the sound of it in my mouth. We had nib pens and inkwells then, can you IMAGINE the mess? Dont know how the teachers managed it. I so enjoyed this poem!!!!!!!! A poet, in love with words.

Old Ollie said...

Wonderful wordplay SL.

Salem Lorot said...

@Sherry Blue Sky, thank you Koko. I bet the word Paw back then meant the world to you...something metaphysical, out of this world. Reminds me of how thrilled I felt when I pronounced the word kerosene for the first time. i felt that everyone had to stop and marvel at my achievement. Here, we had fountain pens instead of the nib pens but they mean the same. Oh, the smudge of the ink in our fingers, books and desks!Glad you stopped by.

@ Old Ollie, Tired Monk, welcome to this tent. Pull of the hood and if your brows are tired we could keep them alert with the aid of chopsticks. Thank you for stopping by. You have brought the monastery right inside this tent.

Ella said...

I enjoyed this, the idea of scattered thoughts n' pages lining the living area. I love this, "I read books not for knowledge’s sake
But to lift heavy words which cranes couldn’t pull
And somehow utilized them in some
Class discussion on the alkanes and alkynes
If they fit, I worried not"
Well Done~

Salem Lorot said...

@ Ella, glad you enjoyed it. The ways of Professors creates a joy in my heart. Some, in their satiated theories and philosophies in the mind, could stand by the roadside to order their thoughts....

Thank you for reading and commenting.

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