grittled syllables

Cat bites my tongue
holding onto words
like gravity keeping my feet on earth
invisible but effective,
relishing silence on this dreary gray day.

As cat’s tail flicks,
a garbled refrain of grittled syllables rises
from cracks in the swell of my purloined tongue
(something about eating canaries
as antithetical to humility).

Perseverating on yellow,
chains disappear like teeth.

Cat lays claim to feathers
triggered by a spray of syllables
whose sarcasm blooms,

freeing my tongue to bleed the story
down this empty white page.

Brenda Warren 2012

Process Notes: We are having a dreary gray weekend, and nothing worth posting came for me yesterday. This morning, when I made writer’s block my topic, this piece came. Initially, “whose sarcasm blooms” was “whose planted sarcasm blooms,” but alas, I like it better without planted…. Plant is the only word I don’t use in this piece.

Visit The Sunday Whirl to read more pieces using the 13 words in the wordle below.

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31 thoughts on “grittled syllables

  1. Great stuff, Brenda. I came late to the party and missed “Typo-gate”, but loved what everyone has done with the words. You set a fine “table” of words and I am finding a special place here to write my poems through the challenging wordles. Thanks for you work and this forum.

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  2. I’m so glad the cat let loose your tongue to come up with this poem! Wonderfully original images in this. I’d never really considered envisioning writer’s block in feline form, but after years of living with cats, I can tell you the metaphor works!

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  3. I loved the imagery of bleeding out words – the best writes come from our blood, I think (figuratively, of course!). I liked both the sarcasm blooming variations – but without the planting, it’s like a mystery. You never really planned on it, but still it grew. Wonderful 🙂

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  4. Cat lays claim to feathers
    triggered by a spray of syllables
    whose sarcasm blooms,

    I def. enjoy this stanza as well as the rest but the image of bits of feather filament flying is striking and the spray of syllables!! Love that! Sometimes that’s the best way to get rid of writers block…shine the light right on it and the darkness scatters!!

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  5. “As cat’s tail flicks,
    a garbled refrain of grittled syllables rises
    from cracks in the swell of my purloined tongue . . .”

    I love the sounds here, all those hard consonants, the repeated r’s especially; very moody piece, and the sounds help establish that. Nice, Brenda!

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  6. Sometimes something comes to a person at the last moment. Nothing came to me yesterday either, but when it was down to the crunch this morning something came. Glad the ‘cat’ let go of your tongue.

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  7. “chains disappear like teeth”

    There’s something almost poignant about this image. Maybe it reminds me of my paternal grandmother, who had no teeth, but could eat anything. When I was a child, I saw her successfully attack steak with her gums. I bet she could have done the same with chains!

    I’ve had so much fun with the word gaffes this week. I hope it happens again someday! 🙂

    Gardener Grittle

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  8. Cats, our Masters and Mistresses. Been there done that. But I never had a fowl-cat. Let the worldles fall where and when they may. Thanks for your visit and kind words. Wordles have helped me create wonderful pages to what might be a complete story one day.

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  9. Really, really like where you let the words lead you. This is fun as well as wonderful writing, Brenda. All that grittle spawned a good deal of intriguing poetry and loads of fun. Thank you to our fearless leader. Am so glad you didn’t let that cat keep your tongue silenced,

    Elizabeth
    ps. Thinking you should maybe do a series: ‘Letting the cat out of the bag’, ‘cat nip or nap’? You get the idea, lol.

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  10. Nice. That first stanza could stand on its own, but I am so glad you kept playing. What else could come from the cat got your tongue, but “purloined”, which I never thought of?

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  11. I LOVE that you have successfully used grittled in your title and your poem! What a phenomenal and fun word 🙂 “A garbled refrain of grittled syllables” is wonderful!

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  12. Ooo, I think you really captured the mood of the dull and dreary, leaving no-one mistaken about it at all. Glad the cat didn’t stay biting its tongue in the end 🙂 Loved this stanza:
    ‘Cat lays claim to feathers
    triggered by a spray of syllables
    whose sarcasm blooms,’
    Hope the weather improves for the rest of your day there Brenda.

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    • I don’t mind the gray and dreary, just wish the clouds would let loose some of the moisture they hold. We’ve had a couple of showers, but are in dire need of more. Dreary Bordeaux. I used that for a pen name once (teen years). LOL

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