I find as I grow older the language lessons I was taught and learned as a child often no longer apply. The problem is that no one person is in charge. Language and how it is spoken belong to those who use it. Words common in Shakepeare’s day are now archaic. Others morph or are warped by usage.
Ain’t used to be the correct contraction for am not, something we no longer have. I think that is because others started using ain’t in place of isn’t and aren’t, something teachers and purists could not accept. So ain’t was shunted off into the pool of colloquial words and shunned by the learned.
But sometimes, there are words which still give me a twinge. Fun is one. When I was growing up, this word was a noun, not an adjective. Saying ‘that was a fun thing” would have been incorrect. This has changed. I even find myself using this word as a descriptor. However, a part of my brain still cringes when I hear it used this way.
“Invite” used as a noun makes me grit my teeth. Invite is the verb form of the noun “invitation.” Someone somewhere decided to be cute and shorten invitation to invite. Another someone somewhere thought that was clever and copied it. It is now heard and seen everywhere, though the dictionary still lists this use as “informal.” Strangely “evite” does not grate as much on my nerves. Perhaps because there was no such word in my childhood?
I haven’t even touched on the changes in sound, but here’s one. The word “often” had a spoken T when I was a child. Hardly anyone speaks the T anymore. Perhaps the British do? The word sounds like it should be spelled offen. I sometimes wonder if I manage to live to 100, will I even recognize my native language when it is spoken?
#EnglishLanguage #ESL #EvolvingLanguage
DEFUNCT LANGUAGE LESSONS?
I find as I grow older the language lessons I was taught and learned as a child often no longer apply. The problem is that no one person is in charge. Language and how it is spoken belong to those who use it. Words common in Shakepeare’s day are now archaic. Others morph or are warped by usage.
Ain’t used to be the correct contraction for am not, something we no longer have. I think that is because others started using ain’t in place of isn’t and aren’t, something teachers and purists could not accept. So ain’t was shunted off into the pool of colloquial words and shunned by the learned.
But sometimes, there are words which still give me a twinge. Fun is one. When I was growing up, this word was a noun, not an adjective. Saying ‘that was a fun thing” would have been incorrect. This has changed. I even find myself using this word as a descriptor. However, a part of my brain still cringes when I hear it used this way.
“Invite” used as a noun makes me grit my teeth. Invite is the verb form of the noun “invitation.” Someone somewhere decided to be cute and shorten invitation to invite. Another someone somewhere thought that was clever and copied it. It is now heard and seen everywhere, though the dictionary still lists this use as “informal.” Strangely “evite” does not grate as much on my nerves. Perhaps because there was no such word in my childhood?
I haven’t even touched on the changes in sound, but here’s one. The word “often” had a spoken T when I was a child. Hardly anyone speaks the T anymore. Perhaps the British do? The word sounds like it should be spelled offen. I sometimes wonder if I manage to live to 100, will I even recognize my native language when it is spoken?
#EnglishLanguage #ESL #EvolvingLanguage
Author’s Notes
GLASS RAIN—the poetry by Margaret Roxby
“OF TIME’S WITCHERY” has been newly edited using notes from the author.
KALEIDOSCOPE—a series by Kathleen Roxby
“AGE AND LANGUAGE” continues the author’s series on the oddities of the English language. Sources consulted: www.etymonline.com and www.merriam-webster.com.
THROUGH THE LOOKING GLASS—the poetry of Kathleen Roxby
“THE NEW CHIC” was written in 2020 when her state’s COVID19 home isolation order had been eased and she saw the young girl of the poem arriving at a local mall.
SUBMISSION GUIDELINES
Readers who write in response to one of the prompts listed each month in Splintered Glass, may see their work presented here on the last week of that month. Though poems are preferred, short prose work will also be considered for publication.
Guidelines for submission:
SPLINTERS FOR JANUARY 2022
ONCE
Written for Ray Bradbury, author of Martians Chronicles,
on the occasion of the first landing on Mars
Once,
past the tomb
of this gray gypsum moon
alien spaceships chased
the craters of the sky
and Mystery wore robes fluorescent green.
Then,
through eons of red sky and earth
breathed the spirit
of the ghost people
who flew the stars
and measured the universe
with candid chasm eyes too true
and whispered songs of sighs
too sorrow-soft for ears to hear
who swift and light
sparked the night of our innocence.
Till
the quests of leaden savage arrows
slashed gossamer shadows
to pierce the night of our dream, and…
a lost ghost people died.
#RayBradburyandMartianChronicles #MartianLanding
REVERIE AT TWILIGHT
There is a stirring in my soul tonight
the bright
sun that glorified the day with gold
is gone. Now hangs a blueness on the air
a rare
and melancholic drift my thoughts enfold
I cannot resist (my heart unsure)
the lure
of time-marked memories of days long past
when everything was possible, if dreamed
It seemed
the stars were mine to reach
my world was vast
Gone may be the days of gold desire
the fire
of youth, but twilight is a velvet clime
If stars have spurned
my too-short reach perhaps
mayhaps
I’ll find new joys
in this soft blue twilight time
#Aging #Melancholic
Winter Soliloquy
Winter is a state of the mind
A blizzard of unspoken thoughts
Born in the frigid seas of loneliness
Conceived in a lightning stroke of agony
Pursued through trial by other icy blasts
Courted with the purity of the snowflake
Framed in a cold steel blue reality.
It cleanses the mind, body and soul.
Only a winter provides time and space
To sound the depth of life’s icy cap.
With a winter in which to conceive,
How could man have acquired a soul?
#Winter #WinterandContemplation
Author’s Notes
GLASS RAIN – a poem by Margaret Roxby
“REVERIE AT TWILIGHT” is a poem of old age and is included because the first week of January is a time for life reflections. The form of the poem was suggested at a workshop at her local poetry group.
REFRACTIONS—by Robert Roxby
“WINTER SOLILOQUY” first appeared in the author’s collected poems, Reflections on a Lifeime.
THROUGH THE LOOKING GLASS—a poem by Kathleen Roxby
“ONCE” was first published in POETRY FORUM, 1975. The poem was presented to Ray Bradbury at an event where he was speaking. During his talk he referred to “a young poet” and briefly met the eyes the poem’s author sitting in the audience giving her the impression he meant her. He later sent her a hand-written thank you note for her poem which she still has.
SUBMISSION GUIDELINES
Readers who write in response to one of the prompts listed each month in Splintered Glass, may see their work presented here on the last week of that month. Though poems are preferred, short prose work will also be considered for publication.
Guidelines for submission:
SPLINTERS FOR JANUARY 2022