A Quest on Overdrive … :)

An eccentric rambler on life's lessons and mercies, found and lost… :)


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Tongue-tied

It’s not the tongue.

Never was.

It’s them damned,

Yes, them dammed words.

So literal we are.

We think that

Harelip holds just the tongue

Never understanding

The knots, that tie up

Are Inarticulate…

Just as them words are.

They have no

Credit to pass

Risk zones of

Frissons of fissures.

The gap is too wide

To stretch meaning.

Better to let meaning be.

Better to let them think you dumb.

Better, best, yet is

Silence.

Dam(n).

Them words.

 

22 April, 2017

Day#22 of #NaPoWriMo 2017, National Poetry Writing Month, 2017. As absurd as they come, today.

 

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Notes:

(From Quora 🙂 ) Tongue-tied, etymology. 🙂

Originally, “tongue-tied” was a metaphorical expression that described a very specific physical abnormality, just like “clubfoot” or “harelip”. It meant that someone had an unusually thick and long piece of tissue connecting the underside of their tongue to the base of their mouth.

Obviously, that would probably make it difficult to speak clearly, so it’s easy to understand how “tongue-tied” has come to more generally mean “struggling to express yourself”.

On a broader note, though, I’ve always found this kind of expression really interesting on two fronts:

1) “Tongue-tied” is just one example of our fascinating tendency to describe physical conditions with metaphors that are simultaneously very poetical and very blunt. Even just in English — and it’s definitely not limited to English — there are so many. “Harelip”, “clubfoot”, “lazy eye”, “pinhead”, “dropsy”, “webbed fingers”…the list goes on and on.

2) We’re even more inclined to take concrete physical conditions, and expand them into figurative terms of speech that are used much more broadly. Beyond “tongue-tied”, “crippled”, “blind” and “lame” are just some of the most common examples.

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Eyes Wide Shut

I zone in, zone out
In the singular hope
That someday, I shall fly.

Ha! The reader here, goes.
The eccentric rambler,
You must understand,
Hears expressions eyes make.

Particularly, the rolling of the eyes.

It tingles, and this rambler knows
Just which word will send you off…
Crinkle your nose, sometimes,
Yet other times, twitch your eyebrow,
In disdain, or utter confusion 😛

She does not need to see you
To know all about that grin you’re hiding
A snigger or a snort sometimes too!

This blog writes, errr… rambler.
And it sees, more than you know 🙂
Even if there is no passing reader 🙂

And yes, one day, I shall fly.
Believe you me.
For now, suspend your willing disbelief…

And join me, as we weave wings
With words, waiting close…

And soar, as only a word can send you.

In flights of fancy.

11 April, 2017

Day#11 of #Napowrimo, 2017 – National Poetry Writing Month 2017

Online, silly, surreal and absurd. Do excuse this rambler. She is on a quest for  inner peace, and till such time she finds it, this is going to happen here 😛


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Evenings

Evenings feel…

That shade of dusk
A bride that loses
Almost in a blink, her blush-
Quietens, sobers
And slips into night…

Evenings come…

Never too quickly,
When bright light quite dries
Out, and squeezes the heart
Of that last bit of hope, of succor…

Evenings be…

That utterly soft blanket
That keeps you sane
As you map your thoughts
Fashion from them a meaning
That will be a mild placebo
To help negotiate another
Sleepless night.

Evenings.
When I wait, not knowing
Yet knowing,
Somehow, no matter who
You be, that day…

You will be.

And slip between those thoughts.
Shepherd them.

Pen(n) them.

Before night gathers me
For its own.

5 April, 2017

Day#5 of #Napowrimo, 2017 – National Poetry Writing Month 2017


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Hangover

The surfeit of
Spirit.
Uniquely branded.

You.

Aeons of drinking
From the cup of
Shared memories
Has not sweetened
Life.

For, your sudden
Withdrawal,
Sent me into
Paroxyms
An orgy, almost

Of pain.

And here I am
Penning a paean.

To that ache
I shall always live with.

Seeming to revel in it.

Maybe I do.
Maybe, that is
The only way.

For, any other way
Would mean

Acquiring new skills.

I’m too old a dog,
For that.

Unless, of course,
I find a new spirit
Just as unique…

And assuage
My soul’s thirst.

5 March, 2017
Online, and as surreal as it can get. No, no spirits, except them wordy ones are responsible for this 🙂 

 


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Stalemate

Yes, I dared.
To speak.
And more.
To act as well.
Upon them words.

Caught you unawares, I know.

Still, what matters
Is this.

Caught your eye.

Didn’t I just!

Your move, mate.

And see if I’m not
Prepared.

I’m game.

The game.

It quite devours. Does it not?

Done. Dusted. Or not.
And then we wonder
What the eff just happened!

11 February, 2017
Online, on traitorous thoughts of trivialities tending to tempt tantrums 😛
Go figure. 😛