0 A Very Long Time

The words come...slowly...one syllable at a

time...just a few. Shakespeare would surely

shake his head; Elizabeth Browning would cry;

but I stand my ground and shout out: "I am not

you! I am a child of the new Millennium and

there is Google and Yahoo and texting, and so

much more...it's hard to decide...half a million

new words have been added to the Oxford English

dictionary, and for shizzle I don't know how to

use them, yet."

I try to fit them into my life, a gem, a

pearl, sometimes I can make them rhyme, I know

it's not necessary, but I want them to belong, to

make sense, to have a purpose in my line.

I want the right word to feel comfortable, at

home, to put it's feet up and have a cup of tea,

to decide if it likes me enough to stay.

If it goes into my poem it will be there for

a very long time.

--Isolde D., 66