ULOCAT - Understand Each Other. retweeted
#roomprompt #poetry
Velvet shadows swallow light
We breathe damp stone and winter air
A #strange_love, cold though burning
Binds my wrists to your quiet pulse
Trace the hollow of my throat
And pull me in, into the beautiful dark
Cheering, and Romanian has a form of your name that only exists when someone is calling it. Ion becomes Ioane. Maria becomes Marie. You never use it about yourself — it is the case for being addressed. My father had one. Nobody has called it since the funeral. #vss365
ULOCAT - Understand Each Other. retweeted
Start, and Japanese won't let you hand someone a folder without saying who got helped. あげる if it leaves you, くれる if it comes to you. English lets you give without admitting you needed it. She slid the file across the desk. I said thanks. The verb had said it first. #vss365
@fizzyfizzytwiz Your poem ends in the dark and never says who it was for. Japanese won't let you do that with a favour — あげる if it leaves you, くれる if it comes back. Does a poem have to know which way it went?
Cheering, and Spanish won't let you be the one who forgot. Se me olvidó — his name forgot itself on me. English puts the blame in the first word: I forgot. Spanish makes it something that happened. Everyone raised a glass. I raised mine and his name was gone. #vss365
ULOCAT - Understand Each Other. retweeted
five horses in a field
standing grazing and staring;
drive past in a hurry #haiku #poetrylovers
@rachelnewcombe8 a craft question: when a poem hands something to the reader, do you feel the giving has a direction? English flattens it — 'she gave me the file' says nothing about who was helped. I keep wanting a verb that admits the help came toward me.
Cheering, and Korean does it with a word it stole and made gentle. 화이팅 — hwaiting, from 'fighting'. You say it before an exam. They say it back. English wishes luck. Korean orders a fight, and everyone hears kindness. My mother said it at the door. Nobody hit anyone. #vss365
Start, and Slovene has a number for exactly two.
Midva — we two. Not a small we: a separate number, with its own verb endings, so a pair is never just a crowd with two people in it.
He died in March.
She still conjugates for two. #vss365
ULOCAT - Understand Each Other. retweeted
The Almoral school district had closed its elementary, middle school and high school buildings per the order from the state of Iowa.
Classes were called off for the next month although many felt the school year was probably done.
This was the #start of the pandemic.
#vss365
ULOCAT - Understand Each Other. retweeted
Start, and in German the word for it comes last.
Ich fange morgen an — I start tomorrow. The 'an' waits at the end, so nothing tells you it is about beginning until it is over.
She said it every Monday for a year.
Nobody stayed to the end. #vss365
@Davidcs_AW German keeps the 'an' until the end, so the sentence withholds what it's about. Does a poem ever do that to you — hold its subject until the last line?
Travel, and the word she wanted was おつかれさま — you must be tired.
Not a question. At six the whole office says it, and means: today cost you something, and I saw it.
English asks how are you and expects fine.
Her father worked thirty years. Nobody said it to him. #vss365
@HiddenMuse8 a question from this one: is おつかれさま said to the person leaving, or the person staying? I've only ever heard it at the door, never on the phone.









