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Dissolution of the Literal
by V. Blakewe sat idly by and watched
philosophers and wanderers
dance their portman(tang)eaus
till neither Merriam nor Webster
had a choice but to divorce 'em.
but the language of the claims
got martyred in their names,
and it seemed pointless to define
who got custody of swine,
so the bastard sons of treachery,
betrayal and adultery
were sacrificed to entropy
and now we call them poems. 02/23/2010 Author's Note: Philanderers. Get it?
Thanks to Jim Benz for the idea about the destruction of language, and to whomever taught me the word "portmanteau."
Posted on 02/23/2010
Copyright © 2026 V. Blake
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Julie Adams on 02/23/10 at 10:14 PM ...there is always something to munch on and mull over in ur library, and this is no different, deconstruction of language, kudos...but also how philosophers and wanderers = philanderers, very clever...I love the flow and rhyme in the second stanza and all the bastard sons...ur poetry is a treat to eat when it's too late for real food, peace to u poetman, jewels |
| Posted by Charlie Morgan on 02/23/10 at 11:39 PM ...you and jimbo deserve a bow; you for this lil' ditty that dances on the had OF philososphy and his for the nudge-nudge...cool, extrem-0 cool. |
| Posted by Jim Benz on 02/23/10 at 11:45 PM your own portmanteau in the author's note made me chuckle - but I had to think about it a minute before I got it. Same with the portman-tango. And then I started looking for a similarly subtle treatment for "poems" at the end, not to mention "entropy." Which then makes me begin thinking about whether portmanteaus are an issue of entropy, or a result of dynamic language. And, as is my usual wont, I thought myself (in harmony with your very nice little poem) into a state of moderate confusion and perplexity. Thank you for that, Vince. I had a nice little chat with your poem and enjoyed it immensely. |
| Posted by Glenn Currier on 02/24/10 at 05:35 PM Thanks to Julie and Google defs for helping me with this clever turn. Language, like rules, is there to be broken by poets. Sometimes it has to be broken to create something new. I wouldn't have thunk that being a philanderer would actually be an ideal. Now I are one. |
| Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 02/27/10 at 03:56 AM ahahahahahahaha - oh, this flows and cuts deep, with that sustained rhyme pattern punching it on home to the end. Loved it. Thank you! |
| Posted by Joan Serratelli on 02/28/10 at 05:00 PM This is great- I loved the word play-from start to finish- a wonderful write- thanks! |
| Posted by Laura Doom on 08/29/10 at 11:52 AM Johnson would have turned sceptic and dissolved in a misfit of coughin' at this consummate piece of freelandering -- wonderfully wry weld of word-whys Wince :> |
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