Word of the Week #142:

Hibernation

Oh, it is cold, out here… Oh, I so hate this weather, and it me.

I struggle to do all of the things I truly love: Eat, sleep, work, play, breathe. God, I so miss being able to breathe.

The thermometer might suggest it is not too cold, but thermometers have been known to lie on this matter.

With the piercing winds, the unseasonal rain, it is almost reminiscent of Wuthering Heights.

It is probably no surprise then that I have halted my work for the week to curl up under my blanket with the very book in my hand, trying to read as much as I can between increasingly painful bouts of cough.

There are some pleasant feelings associated with this season, with the holidays and the merriness with it, but I am just not interested in all that.

I will just stay in my bed, for now, sulking till the weather improves. And I will keep trying to breathe.

“If winter comes, can spring be far behind?”
Percy Bysshe Shelley

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Word of the Week #86:

Caesura

Poetry… Who doesn’t enjoy that, right?

Well, I suppose some could say the same about tea, or beer, and I happen to hate them both, so who can say.

Regardless, we must not digress.

You see, I have always been one who enjoyed a good verse. I am more old-school with my tastes, though, most familiar with the names Shelley, Keats, Wordsworth, and above all, Frost. Contemporary poetry, however, seemed rather alien to me.

From the outset, it appears somewhat formless. It is not bound by any conventional lyric meters or rhyme schemes. Now, I’m not a purist, but playing with no rules whatsoever seems like cheating.

However, over the course of this year, my opinion has changed, and after having spent the past weekend almost entirely dedicated to Spoken Word poetry, I have finally begun to get the hang of it.

You see, traditional poetry is like a fragrant mist. It will envelop and entrance you. Spoken word, however, is quite different. It is simple, stark, and unconstrained.

It is actually quite like an axe—hits hard and cuts deep. It is not a chisel that delicately shapes the world around us. Instead, it is better equipped at chopping away at the flaws.

Spoken word is not cheating. Instead, it is a different game altogether.

And, like with most games, I have no interest in staying a mere spectator for too long. I am here to play.


PS: All sportsmen will tell you that there was one moment towards the beginning, one flash of brilliance, that made them fall in love with the game. For me, that came as a line I heard this past Sunday:

Liars will say that they are artists.
Ironically, they are not lying.

Aditya Mankad, Pseudologia Fantastica

Word of the Week #27:

Martial

Not to be confused with Martian, though the two do share a word root, or with Marshal, though the two sound quite alike…

Or that French guy who plays for ManU, whatever his name may be…

Now, I specify that because, as a kid, I would often get confused between the first three, and I was already smarter than many of you can ever hope to be. Continue reading Word of the Week #27: