at night while I lie sleeping
tucked quietly in bed
his tiny feet come creeping
as quiet as the dead
he’s a wingéd little being
smaller than a mouse
he sneaks with no one seeing
through the darkened house
his little wings are dusty
like the books he holds
his breath’s a little musty
and reeks of damp and mold
the Dictionary Fairy
creeps across my bed
and whispers rather scary
things into my head
your vocabulary’s awful,
he hisses in my ear
they ought to be unlawful,
those words that you revere
you sound just like a nitwit
when you say “aiight”
nothing but a dimwit
when you say “that’s tight”
“wicked” means bad morals
and isn’t something “cool”
you’re an insult to the laurels
of your most esteeméd school
what’s become of decent grammar?
have we seen its sad demise?
crushed beneath the hammer
of listening to “yous guys”
then the Dictionary Fairy
opening up his tome,
reads words like “ablutionary”
and “heterochromosome”
all night the wee fiend chatters
foul words into my ears
as if it really matters
if high school takes eight years
© Sarah Whiteley
peppy!
i’m in love with you. just saying.
in case it isn’t obvious.
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ah, but do you lurve me?
I was going to write a sequel to https://ebbtide.wordpress.com/2008/11/13/ode-to-mad-meredith/ but the Dictionary Fairy came knocking instead. May still do Mad Meredith Part Deux – when she finally decides to come out to play.
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yes, lurve. looking forward to meredith, too.
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Hmmm. As a silly old bat, I sometimes enjoy the evolution of our language from the mouths of our young, and at others I deplore it. Your poem expresses that dilemma very well.
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I love that you’ve accented esteemed to make it scan!! I must remember that myself (so if I post anything that looks like it came from you, you’ve only yourself to blame!)
😉
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I just love this tale…wonderful to read and very witty!
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this is very clever! 😉
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Awesome.
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