“The,” three simple letters, is neither a name for something (noun), nor is it an action (verb)—the two requirements for any English sentence—yet it appears in nearly every sentence. For example, “The dog jumped.” Why is the there?
In English we have two other similar words, “a” and “an,” as in “A bottle broke” and “An elephant roared.” These show up almost as frequently as “the” and are also neither noun nor verb. All three are called “articles,” which I personally find to be ridiculous. The word article can mean “thing” or a piece of writing, like an “article” in a magazine. In other words, an “article” is a noun, but “a” and “an” and “the” are not!
Maybe long ago the teachers of language were struggling to explain these three words and in their desperation they settled on referring to them as “articles of speech.” I suppose I can forgive them, but why are they required? I know English is not the only language that uses these “no definition” words—though to be fair, “a” and “an” can mean “one.” This makes some sense to me as “one,” which was once long ago “ane,” is somewhat visually similar. The two equate to the French “un” and “une,” the Spanish “un,” “uno,” and “una.”
But the “le” and “les” in French, and the “la” and “las” and “los” in Spanish (the equivalents to “the” in English), seem to me only necessary because “that is the way we do things.” What kind of reason is that? Even if I accept that (because what choice do I have really?), the word “the” has two pronunciations with different connotations. The usual sound of the word rhymes with “uh” and is a dull, almost missed sound. The exception to the rule pronounces the word as though it were spelled “thee.”
What does this signify? “The” when pronounced “thee,” is calling attention to the noun which follows, singling it out from all the others of its kind. The dog (pronounced “thee”) is not just one of the bunch of dogs, it is unique in some way.
This change of pronunciation is not obvious as written, yet the native speaker almost always knows when to say the word as “thee” rather than “thuh,” presenting one more stumbling block for those learning the language.
#EnglishLanguage
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:
TO MY DISAPPEARING FRIEND
You stayed home all weekend
Again
Your mother called
After two weeks of your silence
To ask if you were still alive
You waste all the minutes
Not bound to barest need
Just what do you find
So fascinating about that blank wall
That keeps your attention
For hours at a time?
In your secret cave, your home,
What is it that causes you to mourn
Till your body quivers beyond control
With the gasps of silent tears
That do not wet your eyes or face?
Have you no voice to speak?
Is it language that confounds you?
Can you find no words
To name the thing
That traps you there
Alone and hiding?
Do the worlds
Of your heart frighten you?
Have you condemned
Your heart to silence
And shadows?
Where are you going
How far away will you flee?
Will anyone ever again hear
The music of your laughter,
See your eyes once more
Fill and spill over in tears
Of compassion or grief?
I wait for your answer
THE THIEF
A vein pulses
at your temple—
it signals the pressing things
you have somehow, some why to get to
I would ask you
“Linger yet a while
For friendship’s sake”
But your eyes have already turned
To other places
Other happenings
That have no part in me
“Someday,” you say,
“when we have time”—
“There are so many things
I’ve stored up,” you say
Ah, my dear friend,
The dust of dissolution
Has already seeped into that storehouse
There are those who think
Time is the great robber
But time
is not the thief here
TO BE FREE
If I cannot be free
Then I wish not to be
I must smell the wind
Touch the sun’s warmth
Walk where few men go
Feel the grass on my toes
To be alone when I think
With friends when I talk
Life is a broken bough
If I cannot live this way
AUTHOR NOTES
GLASS RAIN—the poetry by Margaret Roxby
“THE THIEF,” was written in response to the author feeling a long-time friend pulling away, drawn by other people and other interests to explore. Whether the poet shared the poem with that friend is unknown, but it is not unlike her to have done so. It is included this week for Send A Card To A Friend, Feb 7.
REFRACTIONS—the poetry of Robert Roxby
“TO BE FREE” is included this week for National Freedom Day. The poem first appeared in the author’s collection, Reflections of a Lifetime.
THROUGH THE LOOKING GLASS—the poetry of Kathleen Roxby
“TO MY DISAPPEARING FRIEND,” is included this week for Send A Card To A Friend, February 7. The point of view was suggested by a poetry workshop, but the poem describes the author’s experience with depression in her late twenties.
SPLINTERS FOR FEBRUARY 2023
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:
MARGINS
Margins, intended to force order,
Succeed only if we accept them.
They are not natural.
The richness of life
Overflows imposed margins
Like people spill unstopped
Across unseen political borders.
Even in the wild
Where a first look sees a line
Marking the edge of life—
Beyond which nothing seems to grow—
Yet, should we look more closely
With a trained eye,
There we will find life
Dormant waiting for change,
Or actively thriving in adversity.
Spilling into paper margins
Are the fantasies
Escaped from boredom.
In the margins
Are the afterthoughts,
The reconsidered,
The questions to pursue.
Margins have the climaxes
Of thoughts left unexpressed.
What are margins
But arbitrary boundaries?
They are as much imagination
As the insubordination
Bursting into their cordoned off space.
SUNLIGHT ON THE CAMPUS
(For Elena)
There is a liberation
when the green stem stretches
in strength, baring
its buds to the blazing sun
Then the golden light
rains gladness
upon glazed windows
and tapering towers
upon bird-hugged trees
and leaf-rugged paths
and upon the unexplored
places of the human heart
ARTICLES AND PRONUNCIATION WILLFULNESS
“The,” three simple letters, is neither a name for something (noun), nor is it an action (verb)—the two requirements for any English sentence—yet it appears in nearly every sentence. For example, “The dog jumped.” Why is the there?
In English we have two other similar words, “a” and “an,” as in “A bottle broke” and “An elephant roared.” These show up almost as frequently as “the” and are also neither noun nor verb. All three are called “articles,” which I personally find to be ridiculous. The word article can mean “thing” or a piece of writing, like an “article” in a magazine. In other words, an “article” is a noun, but “a” and “an” and “the” are not!
Maybe long ago the teachers of language were struggling to explain these three words and in their desperation they settled on referring to them as “articles of speech.” I suppose I can forgive them, but why are they required? I know English is not the only language that uses these “no definition” words—though to be fair, “a” and “an” can mean “one.” This makes some sense to me as “one,” which was once long ago “ane,” is somewhat visually similar. The two equate to the French “un” and “une,” the Spanish “un,” “uno,” and “una.”
But the “le” and “les” in French, and the “la” and “las” and “los” in Spanish (the equivalents to “the” in English), seem to me only necessary because “that is the way we do things.” What kind of reason is that? Even if I accept that (because what choice do I have really?), the word “the” has two pronunciations with different connotations. The usual sound of the word rhymes with “uh” and is a dull, almost missed sound. The exception to the rule pronounces the word as though it were spelled “thee.”
What does this signify? “The” when pronounced “thee,” is calling attention to the noun which follows, singling it out from all the others of its kind. The dog (pronounced “thee”) is not just one of the bunch of dogs, it is unique in some way.
This change of pronunciation is not obvious as written, yet the native speaker almost always knows when to say the word as “thee” rather than “thuh,” presenting one more stumbling block for those learning the language.
#EnglishLanguage