Word Of The Day Story

Morning all

So here is the poem/short story I wrote using the word of the day this month!

It's been fun. And strange. Some great words that I didn't know before (marcescent, gynecocracy and thrasonical being some of my favorites) and some words I'm sure I'll never use again, such as Poikilotherm: An organism, such as a fish or reptile, having a body temperature that varies with the temperature of its surroundings. Doubt I'll ever need to use a term for that specific thing again!

It was funny how I would get four or five words in a row that made complete sense to lead on from each other, and then suddenly I would have a word that would take me somewhere completely different. Cowpooling was one of those words, which means 'the practice of two or more parties jointly purchasing all or part of a butchered cow and dividing the meat between them. God, it was SO frustrating having to put that in!

Of course, the result is a very odd piece of text which goes in several strange directions, not my best work, but I think it was definitely worth doing! In terms of improving my vocab, I actually think this is a useful exercise. Looking over what I have written, I know exactly what each word means because I've given it context. And it has given me a few ideas for some other pieces :)

Perhaps something to try when I'm stuck for ideas in the future would be to create a whole poem around one new word, or maybe even a small collection. Definitely worth trying!

New challenge tomorrow, until then, enjoy.

The men had turned marcescent

And were blown away at the hands dynamitards

Put to sleep with a dwale

Now stuck in a wheel with a pawl

Turned around by the fine upstanders

Every crank sends a quilisma through them

Invisible mitraille wedging between their vertebrae, paralyzing

Still they kept to their tapinage

Waiting. To bring down. The Gynecocracy.

The women’s thrasonical demeanour had begun to take its toll

Bunched together, botryoidal, they swelled with pride

But with this came niaserie

And a thrave of rebels were ready

Unsonsy to the victors soon to be victims

As if they were poikilotherms the sun seemed to boil their blood

They had hardened with their torture and not a single flebile man remained

Watching the women nurdle on about their current state

Living in this cacotopia they had created

The rebels met under the cromlech

Their numbers increased in chilliads until an army had gathered

It was the neomenia and the new moon stirred in them an animal

Their long oppressed gene pool had left them all with illiteracy and dyscalculia, their lack of 

                understanding of the world around them only adding to their rage

But their leader, strong and cool headed, spoke with such parrhesia you’d think he was a scholar

His henotheism had helped to heal; the knowing that there was always another way

And his plan to escape this ergosphere they had been placed in was coming to a head

They dined; meat and bread and stolen cymling

They filled their pockets with dittany, prepared for their wounds

And the ethnarch led the way

His team of close friends by his side, knowing they may never cowpool together again

Time to stop being dapifers. Time to take action.