It was either the fresh smell of an expanding vocabulary or the sweet taste of new words on my tongue. Or perhaps the way they moved around in my mind. It was the way they sounded, like soft wings flapping against the air and the effortless inspiration they stirred while teaching me their foundations. It was 6th Grade English, 8th Grade Creative Writing, and AP Literature in High School. Ms. Lang was a little woman with a big appetite for dissecting poetry and she fed us well. New words have always been motivational in provoking me to write. I would come home from school with an armful under the flap of my notebook and feast on multi-syllable honey. I would string sentences together that really made no sense because all I really wanted to do was use the words. To simile sentences on paper like hanging linen that I could sit back and watch as they dried. Or maybe I’ll cover myself in books and stop to highlight words I didn’t know for an added adventure. Crack open the mind of an author to anatomize his usage of irony. I was the sole proprietor of time that day, which never seemed to move as long as I was building. Eventually, I no longer depended on organized schooling for my fix, but pocket dictionaries and thesauruses found a home in my backpack as new words found a home in my poetry. To this day I look forward to different ways to use overly used words, synonyms that will give my palate something new to get excited about.
I write Black Historical Fiction, Poetry, and Inspirational Non-Fiction for the Freedom of all People. Visit me on the web at yecheilyahysrayl.com/ View all posts by Yecheilyah