Some words are impeccably resplendent
but have… well, bizarre meanings.
mostly words that start with ps,
like pseudopodia: they sound cool.

Some words are gut-wrenchingly awful
awful for such pulchritudinous meanings.
pulchritudinous, for one, and vellichor as well.
it infuriates me
that the word for the nostalgic smell of books
sounds so harrowing.

And then there are those words
utterly exquisite from inside and out
But grossly sold short.
have you ever gaped at the melodrama
of the word apostrophe?
have you ever marvelled at the elegance
of the words glass, or spoon, for that matter?

Words are Apocalypses and Abysses.
Words are Boughs and Consensuses
Words are Tangents and Whispers
Words are Virgules and Harrumphs
Words are Sheer Plethoras
Words are… words.

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Have you ever wondered
completely, completely, random things
in the dead of night?
The very, very stupid ones?
In the word ‘scent’,
is the ‘s’ silent, like cent,
or is the ‘c’ silent, like sent?
Do fishes feel wet
all the time?
Have you ever wondered
utterly, utterly, random things
in the witching hour?
Is it called sand
because it’s between
sea
and land?
Have you ever wondered
absolutely, absolutely, random things
at twelve in the night?
Not things like
your chemistry homework
which ‘your dog ate’
or the t-shirt you borrowed
and by mistake stained
or the book that’s waiting
just on your nightstand…
no, not those.
The very, very stupid ones?
completely balderdash
utterly codswallop
and positively ridiculous?
Have you ever
had those
kind of thoughts?

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It prowled.
Black fur gleaming in the sun
like glass windows of a particularly tall building.

Paws studded with sharp nails
silently slinked
down the familiar bricks.

Paused — then scurried.
Under the rickety red stairs
and through the cosy colorful
cement walls of the alley
— home.

Prompt: Write a poem using the words ‘black’, ‘building’, and ‘cement’.

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