14 thoughts on “Poetry Challenge 16: Post Thy Poems

  1. Well, about definitions. I suppose I have written more of a “nonsense poem”, which is not to say that it does not mean anything, but I believe given my use of the words, they speak for themselves best in relation to eachother and whatever associations to which they naturally give rise.

    Just to note, tronquillescent has accents on the second and fourth syllables, not the first and third. 🙂 And Serrolly is accented on the first and third. Ahem.

    “Hoping”

    Once hundersome, the Athiquent,
    imbilliate, lupressed,
    sang bispitty- nonnific, dapt-
    in Yorch, tronquillescent.

    Through murmurings imbilliate
    and sighing groans lupressed,
    his Serrolly Jisp,
    voliariat, twist,
    hummed timbrilled chanterat.

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    • Oh, I laughed aloud. Very Lewis Carroll. I loved ‘tronquillescent.’ All of them, but the pronunciation on that one is delightful.

      Is the Serolly Jisp a vehicle? Or a bird, perhaps?

      I’m glad you featured ‘Hundersome.’ It’s nearly irresistible. And the third line, three of them in a row – that was daring.

      You notice you used ‘lupressed’ twice?

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      • I love the way you imagined it– with Yorch a language (I was thinking of it as a place) and the Serrolly Jisp a vehicle! It’s delightful to picture the Athiquent trundling along in the Serrolly Jisp singing to himself in Yorch. 🙂 Altogether, your reading satisfies me that this poem works structurally as an adequate container for a variety of imaginary content which it might evoke, which was more or less the idea. 🙂

        I think of an Athiquent as a large, aged but not decrepit, sprightly yet courtly imaginary character.

        I did realize I used lupressed twice; I did the same with imbilliate. I was thinking to introduce some, mm, parallelism? between the Athiquent and the Serrolly Jisp. But do you think repeating words in a poem so short is better not done?

        I like your poem as well and will comment on it shortly.

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    • I also like how you’ve turned so many of the words into Proper Nouns. I’m aching to know what an Athiquent is. Yorch – a language, obviously. The language of bispitty, nonnific, and dapt, I think? How neat to have those three linked up like that.

      I really liked “timbrilled chanterat.” It’s lovely, a phrase to cherish.

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  2. I also found that the challenge lent itself to nonsense. On the other hand, I was glad to find that when one is assigning definitions to new words, one can make them say more than words generally do – which is so helpful in versifying. For instance, I imagine I will keep the word ‘kinbrog’ which means all of “to make a face like or take on the appearance of.” ‘Conenose’, on the other hand, is a real word – the name of a very ugly bug commonly called the kissing bug. I have a strong premonition that my death will occur on the day when the kissing bug, or its cousin the stink bug, will finally manage to entange itself in my fine flyaway hair, whence things that entangle themselves hardly come again.

    Yclept is also a real word – one of those archaic words that people still use playfully. ‘Udonchic’ I’ve defined as “colored like the underside of a mushroom, or like a noodle.” ‘Feuph’ is like in the cartoons, when the air is so turgid with disgusting particulate matter that it flows visibly and slowly. ‘Mankinchesnian’ means “shaped like a man, but with something oddly or unnervingly off.”

    A few other words I’ve left to the context to define but will provide definitions on request.

    This is all the inspiration I have just now, but I am thinking of expanding the poem later. I think it would be fun to have another verse in which we see Bulingstrode from the eyes of the company and find out what strange changes come to him.

    The ailing beggar wept and wept
    The ailing beggar rose and slept
    And rose the less and slept the more
    At last he sleepeth on the floor.
    Oh beggar, Bulingstrode yclept!
    His two lean legs like lips tulept
    His cavering nostrils heave and roar
    His chin-points chestly hairs deplore.

    And now the sprite udonchic comes
    That floats an inch off, showering glums.
    The coblisation of the toes
    He notes, but nothing of it trows.
    The feuph that slurgs between the gums
    The sprite inspects, his face succumbs;
    He kinbrogs all the ghostly rows
    Of mankinchesnian conenose.

    The ailing beggar lastly wakes
    And by the foot this sprite he takes.
    He tries to shake from it some gold
    In hope that leprechauns love the bold.
    Oh, blind he is and drunk as lakes
    But hears the jisp the impling makes.
    The imp turns thrice; the man keeps hold
    And opens eyes on Mab’s green wold.

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    • One thing I consistently find so satisfying about your poems, Alana, is how you can consistently follow a strict form through stanza by stanza, and yet your expressions flow in a way that feels so free, unconstrained, and pleasurable to read, especially aloud. In fact I often don’t fully notice the form until a second or third reading or so. 🙂

      I love the old fashioned whimsy and slyness of this one, and the made up words are such a great fit for the style and theme! My favorite lines are the last four of the second stanza– the feuph that slurgs between the gums indeed! Blech! But very evocative and funny and neatly expressed. It’s curious how made up words can be so vividly specific.

      Awesome challenge!

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      • Thank you. That’s a compliment I’ll treasure.

        You’re right, it’s curious… newborn words perhaps are tinted by their sonical likeness to existing words, but untainted by any history.

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