Words for Wednesday

 


this butterfly fits with Charlotte's colour of the month: pumpkin orange


The original Words for Wednesday was begun by Delores and eventually taken over by a moveable feast of participants when Delores had computer troubles. Sadly, Delores has now closed her blog forever due to other problems.

The aim of the words is to encourage us to write. A story, a poem, whatever comes to mind.

If you are posting an entry on your own blog, please let us know so we can come along to read it and add a few encouraging words.

This month the words/prompts are supplied by Sean Jeating and can be found here

This week's words/prompts are:

1.cudgeling  2.remember  3.language  4.translated  5.coined

and/or:

1.dead  2.heirs  3.between  4.existing  5.episode

My own story will be on this blog on Friday 31st


Comments

  1. Replies
    1. messymimi; I need to work at this one too, the words are more challenging.

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  2. For several days I am cudgeling my brains, but just can't remember whether I read or heard the following somewhere; neither if it it was in English or another language and I just translated the following.
    The person who coined this will forgive me.
    In case s/he is dead, the heirs might sue me.
    It would be a nice story.
    Anyway, here is the thought.
    Life is the episode between not existing and not existing.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Sean Jeating; well done! I hope my life is a longer episode.

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    2. A bit like Schroedinger´s Cat! Well done!

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    3. La vida per alguns és una putada. ;-)
      Bona història, Sean.
      Aferradetes!

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  3. Funny. I can join! Real life again... as I sadly am not creative...
    "They keep kinda cudgeling me with their requests. We do not have the German language, we fail to get it translated properly from Czech.
    We are kinda coined to 'our own' language! I hope today´s episode will turn out good. I don´t want anyone dead (unlikely - it´s about a heating system)...."

    I am very much looking forward to your story, River. I sadly was not ably to use all prompts...

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    Replies
    1. Iris; using all the prompts is not necessary, just use what you can. I like your story. I'll be working on mine after I get home tomorrow, I go to visit the twins and see how their mum is doing with her walking excercises.

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  4. When cunning Sean Jeating was picking new "Words for Wednesday", he decided to slip in the word "cudgeling" just to piss everyone off. However, I could easily remember what it meant as language is my forte and I did not need it to be translated or explained. The term was coined in Ireland where a "cudgel" is a stout stick, historically used as a weapon. Many fell dead during attacks and their heirs and descendants often quarrelled between themselves over existing laws regarding street violence. In one famous episode that occurred during the Halloween period in Dublin, they hurled pumpkin orange pumpkins at each other.

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    Replies
    1. Doncs a mi m'ha servit la teva traducció de la paraula "cudgel", és curiós com el traductor pot destrossar els idiomes. ;-)

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  5. Neat that there are two sets to pick from.

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  6. LA SAVIESA
    En el poble de Felanitx, un vell s'asseia a RECORDAR històries antigues, aquelles que el seu avi havia ENCUNYAT en una LLENGUA cada cop més morta. Mentre els núvols ASSOTAVEN el cel, les seves paraules es traduïen en records viscuts entre els HEREUS del llegat. En un EPISODI etern ENTRE ombres i llums, un ressò existent ressonava: "El MORT no mor del tot". Els hereus, aquells que sabien que allò que s'oblida no viu, trobaven consol en les històries traduïdes pel temps. Un fet sempre el feia somriure: quan tots el nens jugaven a dir paraules, eren una gresca de sons divertits i cada vegada que un deia alguna cosa, calia TRADUIR-HO al català, perquè els adults ho entenguessin. EXISTIA també una TARONJA CARBASSA, símbol de renovació, que a la seva escorça s'amagava l'essència del que va ser i del que serà. En explicar-la, el vell somreia, sabent que encara que molts no comprenien les arrels de la seva història, aquesta perduraria, florint a les ments dels que encara desitjaven escoltar. Així, a cada batec, la vida tornava a començar...

    Aquest és el meu relat.
    Moltes gràcies!

    ReplyDelete

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