A Way With Words

This month on Touched By Words, it is my great pleasure to feature a guest poet and my dear friend Sandra Parrott.  I’ve heard dozens of Sandra’s poems and prose, but this one is one of my favorites.  If I may suggest you read it out loud – it is fun to read!  You find yourself reading quickly and perhaps even stopping to take a breath and chuckle at her very creative way with words!  Enjoy!

A Way With Words ~ by Sandra Parrott

If words were money, I’d be richer than The Donald.  Real estate king and buffoon billionaire, extraordinaire of the millennium.  I roll in words, every one I utter turns to gold.  Even the little words, like on, it,at if, he and she.  They count, they pile up like mountains of change, add up to dollar bills.

I love the quiet mid-size words, house, heart scissors, banana, begonia, duck, doctor, ditto, verbena azalea, cicada.  What is it about the word cicada?  I love that sound.  Crickets just cricket, but cicadas serenade us, cicade us!

Let’s pile up happy words, sad words, mad and glad words, angry, spiteful, furious, words that shake our foundations, make the earth tremble.  We’ll get some verbs going too, we’ll run, laugh, leap, fly, cry, jump, jiggle.  Let’s build, create, play, ponder, smile with style, mingle and tingle, wiggle, giggle and nod.

Words make the world go round.   His words thrilled me, chilled me, killed me, touched my soul, broke my heart, made me weak, made me strong.  Words of wisdom, words of rage, words of comfort, words of sage.  Important words that define an age.  Mighty words, flighty words, sticks and stones may break my bones, but words…..

I don’t like tentative, wavering words, throw them all away.  Forget sort of, maybe, might, almost, perhaps and try.  I maybe, perhaps might try to write something. What does that mean?  Nothing.  While we’re at it, let’s get ride of should of, could of and would of.  Better to be strong, clear and direct.  No equivocating!

And what about words with insidious intent, ugly words that distort, confuse and misdirect.  Words we wish we’d never heard?  Mediocre, maladroit, stupid, crushing words, bloody, bovine, oozing, decrepit, rancid sick words.  Enough.  They’re so unlike these pretty precious words, sunshine, languor, lullaby, darling, aurora, lily, ruby, laugh, spark, lark, let’s go to the park after dark.  You can’t stop me.  I’m rolling in words!  Wallowing, frolicking, swimming.  I do, I will, I must, I shall prevail.  You can’t make me, I stand firm, I won’t, I shan’t, I can’t, I’ll dig in forever and never give up!

These favorite words, fill my mouth when I say them.  So meaty, beaty and bouncy, serendipity, a happy accident, an oxymoron of a word if I ever heard one.  Onomatopoeia, sounds exactly like what it describes.  A word that rings like a bell, buzzes, creaks, peals, purrs, clangs, honks, snaps and sizzles.  Boggle, boggles me.  Scrumptious, a delectable buttery word, that melts in your mouth (not in your hand).

Clandestine, its just between you and me, baby.  Hypnagogic, a magical state of mind that hovers between sleeping and waking.  And the stratosphere, well, its far greater than the mind can possibly comprehend.

Effervescent, gossamer, radiant, mesmerizing, crystalline, luscious, lustrous, butterfly hues of aubergine, ultramarine, lilac and lemon.  These are a few of my favorite, maverick, treasured words.


About Patricia Young

Patricia Young spent most of her life in the Northeast. Before the casinos arrived and many of the safety rails installed, she would hike Bushkill Falls and enjoy time in a little cabin by Meadow Lake near the Delaware Water Gap. The school year was spent in New Jersey, but many summers were spent in Mississippi where she wandered in the woods, rode horses, and read piles of comic books with cousins. After graduating from college with a degree in education, she taught fifth grade in Bayside, Queens. When rent climbed to high for her salary she working for the defense industry in Yonkers before starting a small business called, The Giving Tree Day Care. For fifteen years she was "held hostage by two-year-olds!" Writing every day in a notebook for each child to keep communication open to each family. Fast forward to the spring of 2013 diagnosed with severe carpal tunnel syndrome (she does NOT recommend having both hands done at the same time! Often wondering "What was I thinking?!") Physical therapy and time slowly began the healing process and gardening strengthened her hands. After an unexpected, but a deeply personal journey to Montana in the fall of 2013 she decided it was time to reinvent herself and embrace her fondness for writing. With renewed confidence, and a plan to do the work necessary to become a writer, she began writing every day (with the help of 750Words.com - thank you Kellianne and Buster!), submitting to a variety of magazines and contests to practice the craft. Attending writing retreats, workshops, lectures, taking classes, reading and immersing herself in the process. She began to work with writers and authors in the tri-state area. Currently living in Westchester New York Patty lives with her husband of 32 years, two dogs, two fish, and one cat in a little Cape Cod. The laughter, love, and support are plentiful. Patty has completed her first novel presently called "Northeast of 80". Working with her genre editor, she hopes and dreams and keeps fingers crossed to find an agent in the fall of 2019. You are invited to join her on this journey of a writer. To experience her trials, successes and stumbles along the way. Please share your own stories and maybe we can untangle some of the complexities of this writers life together. Breathe Deep, Think Peace
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