Poetry (98)

Hello Escritori,

I have nothing but love for all 121 of you, because yesterday was The Escritorium‘s second birthday.

Thank you so much for reading my ramblings, however zany and spiritual and daft: I really appreciate it.

BUT not enough to post a special birthday post and mess up my scheduling.

I think what is great about being two is that now I have a reasonable body of work for someone who stumbles upon this blog to really enjoy the “word tapas” on offer here, like lounging around in your favourite bookshop on ย a rainy day, it finally seems like someone could spend a reasonable amount of time browsing and enjoying the content.

I feel a bit like I’ve arrived in my own little way, and that makes it a very happy birthday that I am likewise happy to share.

As ever though, here is your Sunday poem, cobbled together using interesting words from Pinterest. Have fun looking them up, you crazy kid etymologists you.



When all’s said and done

There’s nothing sexier

Than indulging in a fit

Of basorexia,

Progressing to a spate

Of clinomania – together

In which we remain

Strangely perfumed

By each other.


Now isn’t such

A prescription

(Or diagnosis)

Just swell?


That’s what happens

When you bed a quaintrelle…


(ยฉย Copyright Pola Negri, 23/06/2017.)



4 thoughts on “Poetry (98)

  1. Oops, another comment. And yes, I did look up all three words. This is such a sweet poem. I’m starting to wish you didn’t just like boys. (Though I’m still hoping for you with Mr. Darcy.) ๐Ÿ™‚


    1. Oh dear, there it is… Haha, now dear, sigh not, you know I prefer cravats over corsets… and yes me too although, even Jane said: “The only way to get a man like Mr Darcy is to make him up.” Life! You just can’t win.

      Liked by 1 person

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