A Pocketful of Poesy was and is again a Poem-a-Day(-on-Average) Blog! For 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012, and now for 2017 and going forward, you may expect to see 365 poems every year, 366 for leap years.

but aren't they all random?

Monday, June 17, 2024

De assurances

It's a real risk of pain, this accidental plagiarism of another's typos or typoes right along with the good stuff, which you'd fain pose as original work. Your own. Bad, bad. Yet not the worst! The real "ones" you have to watch out for is the neologists. Neologers. No, not "neologers." You know the kind: nonce word coiners come bounding in, booming hard shots of iced dew from the bottom of their heart, slingshot right straight up ricochet off the inner top of their skull, skip-drop to springboard off the tip of the tongue BWONG--all well and good, so far! Until then, some completely FAKE WORD is spun twirling between you into conversation's limpid-lucid pool? To contaminate with fakenesses! With fakericity of word, or words? Soon you're doing it. Some choice word from that murky, murked, bemurking so -called "pool" of shallowness and huge, peaty clumps of understanding where lillies used to pad, stalk and bloom. Egads!

Copy that? You're liable to end up EXPOSED in the brief meetings to follow, spouting "But 'twasn't I! 'Twas some irreverent neologizin' fool of voul, file, classless, tasteless stain or strain!!"

Not to worry! I'm a neologian. I don't ever muck it or muff about that lame sort of duhish um.

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