A mild and most bewildered little shade., A well a bird bird bird the bird is the word, Grease is the..., Great words - 'Souls cross ages like clouds cross skies an' tho' a cloud's shape nor hue nor size don't stay the same it's still a cloud an' so is a soul. Who can say where the cloud's blowed from or , If a picture paints a thousand words..., In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life: it goes on - Robert Frost, Kindness in words creates confidence. Kindness in thinking creates profoundness. Kindness in giving creates love - Lao Tzu, Once upon a word, Raise your words not your voice. It is rain that grows flowers not thunder.-Rumi, Through the astral fields he bruises- Wanhope is his game. Tatterdemalion his bearing- Sesquipedalian his name. - E.Cloud, word up, You took the words right out of my mouth
A question for you all — what, pray tell, is your favourite word?
Favourites change all the time, so this is less a case of – ‘get your thinking cap on, dredge your soul through all of time to be sure’ business, where you are searching for the your most bestest, ultra, angels singing in background reveal of your favourite word; and more a – ‘Oh I like this one this week/day/hour/moment/nanosecond/planck/fermi/jiffy.’ You can list more than one word of course, this isn’t gaol you know, you get tea and cakes here and the cakes are hand baked no less, and free, (though a small contribution by way of the weeping orphan holding out a cap at the door would be appreciated. nods to the weeping waif, who winks back all evil-like), besides which, when it comes to words the more the merrier, unless they are dull flat items, but that’s only error in the stringing together of them — alone they each have their own particular merit.
For myself there has been, (for some time now) one word that nips past the winning post by a nose/cheek/ear/windswept and interesting jowls, and through to the tips of its toes, and that word is . . .
Cor blimey. It was love at first sight. The word conjures up a creature you see, specifically a daemon who is clad in a thousand oily, ripped and dripping, filth-cacked old rags; rags which merge and move out of time then begin to stretch, reaching farther and farther outwards as he spins on the spot, and when he starts spinning, you do not want to be within grasp of those rags. No you do not. Nasty piece of work is Tatterdemalion and sharp as a pin with it.
I’m having him over for tiffin next Tuesday, he will be told to leave his shoes at the door I can tell you.
Others that are jumping up and down asking for a small nod this present day are;
Fanfaronade! (me love this long-time)
Happenstance (another one that’s been lodging in the back bedroom for years)
Those are top of my head choices, and I’m pleased with each and every one of them. nods
Your turn. Show me your wordy pleasures sir/misses/throng of muttering dissidents. I’m curious (not to point of death – mews silently)