Moving forward… creeping actually

Before I get into this week’s Three Word Wednesday I wanted to inform everyone that I am posting daily chapters from my book “Knickers Abroad; a multiple journey”. These excerpts are the travel narrative part from our trip to London and Paris in October of 2007. So far today’s chapter is number three of twenty so you have plenty of time to read over the next three weeks. You can find the page with the complete list of current and future chapters at this link.

3ww14

Earnest
Layer
Reactive

“High Society”

rich is all relative
so they say
a million
is only pocket change
these days

said with earnest words
barely scraping by
you should see
the next door neighbor
now there’s wealth piled high

it’s like a cake you see
first one layer
then the frosting
hardly enough
for all the players

we can’t understand
all the reactive fuss
trillions have been lost
only five homes
now for us

By Rose D Kaye, March 25th, 2009

Words are random letters

Three Word Wednesday

3ww1

Avenge
Genuine
Ramble

avenge |əˈvenj|
verb [ trans. ]
inflict harm in return for (an injury or wrong done to oneself or another) : his determination to avenge the murder of his brother | they are eager to avenge last year’s Super Bowl defeat.
• inflict such harm on behalf of (oneself or someone else previously wronged or harmed) : we must avenge our dead | she avenged herself after he broke off their engagement | the warrior swore he would be avenged on their prince.
DERIVATIVES
avenger noun
ORIGIN late Middle English : from Old French avengier, from a- (from Latin ad ‘to’ ) + vengier, from Latin vindicare ‘vindicate.’

genuine |ˈjenyoōin|
adjective
truly what something is said to be; authentic : each book is bound in genuine leather.
• (of a person, emotion, or action) sincere : she had no doubts as to whether Tom was genuine | a genuine attempt to delegate authority.
DERIVATIVES
genuinely adverb
genuineness noun
ORIGIN late 16th cent.(in the sense [natural or proper] ): from Latin genuinus, from genu ‘knee’ (with reference to the Roman custom of a father acknowledging paternity of a newborn child by placing it on his knee); later associated with genus ‘birth, race, stock.’

ramble |ˈrambəl|
verb [ intrans. ]
1 walk for pleasure, typically without a definite route.
• (of a plant) put out long shoots and grow over walls or other plants.
2 talk or write at length in a confused or inconsequential way : he rambled on about his acting career.
noun
a walk taken for pleasure, esp. in the countryside.
ORIGIN late Middle English (as a verb in sense 2) : probably related to Middle Dutch rammelen, used of animals in the sense ‘wander around in heat,’ also to the noun ram .

“Lecture”

So here we have three completely different words, two from Latin and one probably from Middle Dutch. Two are verbs – one also with a noun definition – and one adjective. Picking three such random words as a writing prompt sets up a defined perimeter due to the types of usage required.

Ramble and Avenge are both action verbs while Genuine is a narrowly used adjective with limited noun patterns. I mean ‘The genuine tree he cut down was to avenge the highway ramble’ doesn’t make any sense. Yet language, particularly the English language in all its variations of spelling and pronunciation, has and continues to flourish precisely because of the propensity to borrow and take words from other languages and make them into normal everyday words.

Certainly it’s very obvious that the word ‘Amble’ [ORIGIN Middle English (originally denoting a horse’s gait): from Old French ambler, from Latin ambulare ‘to walk.’] to those that then saw the Middle Dutch word ‘Rammelen’ that by adding the letter R to amble would create a new word for the same activity. The thesaurus yields more words: saunter, wander, ramble, promenade, walk, go for a walk, take a walk; informal mosey, toddle, tootle; formal perambulate.

All you’re doing is walking, Why does English need so many words for a single activity? A single activity originally revolving around animals. Do you today take your dog for an amble? Or is a perambulate down the block? Communication between cultures depends on accurate translations and definitions but so many activities and mores are not transferable across societies. Which is why poetry is difficult if not impossible to translate. Not because the words are not available, although often they are not; it’s because the concepts, the emotion inherent in poetry is the result of the poet’s experiences.

“Breakfast”

years have melted into a single memory
physics in conflict with experience
time, that crushing force
not linear
not equal
not the second by second erosion of both body and mind
the deterioration of hope
ramble through the weedy plot
here a bloom, a brilliant marker
a moment above
an emotion seared into neurons
the vow to avenge a slight, hurt, pain, fear
of being… something less than perfect
in an instant
a moan
slack jaw
teeth savoring the genuine cinnamon roll
flavor of childhood

By Rose D. Kaye, March 4th, 2009

So far away dwells my love

Intimate
River
Waiting

************************************
grown quiescent
in waiting
the amber
rays sweep
ever from
left to right
an intimate
knowing of
time’s river
when darkness
precedes light
in opposition
and struggle
memory’s grip
fearsome snare
welcoming thrusts
his intimate
hard power
wet river
spread open
willing waiting
so far away
dwells my love

By Rose Dewy Knickers, August 13th, 2008

Squalor of the camps

“Do I have to?”

an anywhere place
an any when time
with rocks and spears
or guns and bombs
a soldier’s pay
often includes rape

refugees
displaced persons
fleeing death
rotting corpses
burning homes
looted crops

collected into camps
women, girls and boys
victims of conflict
conflict within
to survive
will do anything

blue helmets and white flag
peacekeepers they are not
predators and thieves
blind eyes from afar
press conferences and studies
while millions die in shame

in the squalor of the camps
food is not free
protection at a steep price
mother tells her young children
go with the man do what he says
do I have to?

By Rose Dewy Knickers, August 1st, 2008

U.N. peacekeepers raping children for decades.

Beyond the obvious

companion

companion by Rick Mobbs a weekly image prompt

The second prompt today is from Sunday Scribblings and it is ‘Solace’.

“Waiting for the sound”

it was why Solace went out on cold winter days, when frost snapped off the brittle dead blades and ice frilled the hard mud shore

before the light stirred the steam of cattails drooping, when open water filled with rafts of dabblers and hand carved decoys bobbing

it was why Solace sat motionless with muzzle pointed, when the smell of cordite lingered and powerful strokes seized in gentle jaws

Fading into shadows

Read Write Poem is having an ekphrastic extravaganza this week, thanks to the talents and generosity of poet and artist Rick Mobbs. Over at Sunday Scribblings the weekly prompt is ‘Ghosts’.

Portrait of Nanda, by Rick Mobbs


“Do you know who I am?”

seeing him

across the street

I fix my gaze elsewhere

inclined to leave

but this is my chair

my spot in the damp air of

morning

the quiet before the children

run off to school

and the mothers

are left behind

to morph into

domestiques

preparing for siesta

and fertilization

a role I too played

long ago

before I faded

into shadows and

became a ghost

to my kin

By Rose Dewy Knickers, July 21st, 2008