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Webster Say What

When I was a little boy, I brooded day-to-day Ever since I found out I had my native tongue violently taken away Swore in my heart, I would make my own language — words only I knew the meaning of Take the opaque warrior’s vocal signs, and put an X for unknown at the bend of the translation dead end Smiley slave pretzel thoughts: ice cold frowns twisted into warm oven grins Webster catalogued the words which others made up, mine’s no different ... no, not much Nish told, vak tales Denchie pose, talimaduchi farewells Did you understand any of those ... did you comprehend the words I chose? They are my linguistic jewels — family owned ... orally ghetto grown They are Robinson Coolsoul approved: Webster say what! Welcome to the zizi Thunderdome

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Gershon Wolf

Date: 3/9/2018 1:33:00 PM

Vos hartsach, meyn teyere fraynd?! Dos poem iz a gantze mechaye! Ich leyn; ich tracht; ich lach a bissele...Tsu er a groyse schreiber un a groyse talent, meyn Freddie. Ich vil noche un noche poesia! A sheynem dank!! Af tseloches! A bie gezunt, Gershon...P.S. btw, I went to the same school as Webster!...and if you didn't understand the (terrible!) Yiddish, let me know. I'll translate. :)

Carole Duet

Date: 3/8/2018 11:23:00 AM

What an interesting poem, Freddie! It was really a delight to read.

Vijay Pandit

Date: 3/6/2018 3:24:00 PM

The sentiments to preserve and appreciate language unique and personal are quite evident in your poem. Though I didn't understand special words uniquely known to a family..I gather they mean a lot, as they should, Freddie. This is likely true in so many cultures.