There's eighteen score and five more days
until the year is done;
but each would be an empty page
without my "number one".
How many years have passed since we
met up for the first time?
Together, we have never found
a mountain we can't climb.
Your path may not be quite the one
at first you had in mind;
I hope you feel the way I do—
the road's not been unkind.
And in life's travelogue, I note,
the most breathtaking view:
the vista splendid that I see
when standing beside you.
Demonstrative is not my style,
I'm not renowned for flair;
but with these words I've done my best
to show you that I care.
To be my partner is your lot,
so best accept your fate.
Today you are my quaaltagh fair,
my love and my best mate.
|
Author Notes
My much-treasured Christmas present for 2017 is a book by Paul Anthony Jones: "The cabinet of linguistic curiosities". Each page contains a descriptive story about some obscure or archaic word. It occured to me today (the first of 2018) it would be a fun exercise to try and write, each day, a poem featuring the "word of the day" from the book. So that's my intention, until I run out of steam. I'll try to write one every day, although I may not be able to post every single day.
To kick it off, Jones has chosen a very appropriate first offering:
Quaaltagh (n.) The first person you meet on New Year's Day. Thought to influence your fortunes for the year.
Pronounced "quoll-tukh" with a raspy ending, similar to the "gh" sound at the end of "loch". The roots lie in the Celtic Isle of Man language, Manx.
Thanks for reading.
|
|
