Scribbled Senseless

It has occurred to me lately that some nonsense words sound so much like real words that they must in a sense be words-in-waiting. At the same time, the sound of some words when used in a particular context just feel so appropriate that their legitimacy or proper usage must bow to artistic licence. Basically, if the line sounds right who gives a flying frapsnack whether you're using the right words, or real words at all? The Bothy Morning scrintles tithe-dipped fingers On the burly-hintled bothy.  Old Man Alder curdled gently To his wizened wicker crown. On the slope the gloam was girdled, Gathered up and set to gleaming Till it fizzed and fairly shrakened, Hence to feathered Light-Me-Down. All at once the furtive snippets Burst alive from every pocket, Snackering their needlepoint And chittering their glee. Foggy-fisted fields of mosters  Stir up slowly, breaking dewdrops.  Antler-tips and drips of dusk Come steaming in their ...

As you might know, I recently got married. Foolish as that decision may have been on her part, it was a wonderful day, and it gave me the opportunity to say a few words when everyone I know had to pay attention. Why else would anyone get married? Here is the text of that speech: There is an unexpected side-benefit to being a part of your parents’ weddings. When my dad married Judy, he very kindly asked me to be his best man. Wisely, he did not ask me to be responsible for much – I pretty much just had to turn up on the day and read a speech. When he first mentioned it, he promised me faithfully that he trusted me, that he would leave the writing up to me and that he wouldn't demand to look it over ahead of time. Then, about a month before the wedding he called me up and said “So, about that speech? Yeah, I'm going to need to see it…”. I was outraged at the time, but now I have had the distinct pleasure of returning the favour to him. Revenge is indeed sweet. Truth be ...