Tag Archives: definition


I like dictionaries. Confession time: I used to read our home dictionary for fun as a kid. Just picked a random spot and pored over it for hours at a time. I’m sure you’re surprised by my love of words. ūüėõ

I have been thinking a lot about a particular word this week, thanks to Mumford and Sons’ song Roll Away Your Stone. So many meanings attached to it. Many emotions as well. I chose a couple to put here; the complete definition I found is quite long, and can be found here. Words are fascinating!

grace –n.

1. elegance or beauty of form, manner, motion or action;
3. favour or goodwill;
5. mercy; clemency; pardon;
9. moral strength;
12. The Graces, from Classical Mythology: known as the Charites to the Greeks, and as the Gratiae to the Romans.

Now, a poem for my lovely readers.


Floating elegance on tender wings
Takes my breath away, and yet
Bestows upon my sails a mighty wind,
Sends me reeling into open water.

I beg forgiveness for my scrutiny-
My eyes are unwilling to depart
From you: your easy manner, your
Favourable countenance, and long-limbed

Grace. You are Terpsichore,
Euterpe, and Erato
What a muse I find in you!
Such delight in all I see.

You inspire the best in me, help me
To melt my thoughts and pour them
Into molds of honour, loyalty, truth:
With you, I am more than I thought I could be.

© Bridget Noonan, 2012.


1 Comment

Filed under Poetry


Perhaps I ought to start with a definition, just to make things perfectly clear.

wanderlust n.
a strong, innate desire to rove or travel about.

And now, the poem itself. It is posted to One Single Impression, for this week’s prompt rambling.


the wail of harmonica and voice
reminds my ear of a lonesome train
limping along barren rails to nowhere
and so wanderlust grips at me,
drags me by my feet into the world.
I ride the kilometres from
Waterloo to Peterborough,
Lake Ontario to Lake Simcoe
and before me I see blurred lights
the tail lights that stretch from here
to infinity; each one of them chasing
the next hour, next kilometre, next pit stop.
will this longing ever end?
can I be satisfied not knowing
what town or vista lies over these hills,
where the end of this road lies?
I am limited only by the gas in my tank,
and the money in my pocket.

the dust of a thousand days
clings to my worn shoes, while
I trudge on top of this busy road.
the rhythm of life: wheels spinning,
children playing, and dogs barking.
and I, weary traveller, pass through-
a shadow on the stone, nothing more.
my broken-down car lies behind me as
I gaze at the stars in the sky,
the burnt out pixels on a dark screen.
the only peaceful thing is to look up to
tiny points of light while the frantic pace
of night whizzes all around me.

this is my blood spilled across these pages,
my mind blown like a tumbleweed
along the empty miles between
myself and this empty chased feeling.

© Bridget Noonan, 2011.

I cannot tell you how much Elliott Smith has influenced my life. And by extension my poetry. If you have struggled, he has a song that feels like he ripped it out of your mind and put beautiful and heartbreaking music to it.

If you want to feel this poem fully, listen to the Decemberists do his song Clementine. It’s from an album of songs, made as a tribute to E. S.’s music. And if you put it first on a mix CD of driving music for roving far from home, think of me when you listen to it. I’m probably on the road with you.

I was going to post a silly freestyle rap thing I wrote at work today with/for a girl I work with, but I was feeling melancholy, and definitely had itchy feet. Maybe tomorrow.

do you miss me, Miss Misery, like you say you do?

EDIT: This has also been posted to Poets United.


Filed under Poetry


Let’s start with a definition again, shall we? That was fun for Obsession.

1. any powerful or compelling emotion or feeling, as love or hate
2. strong amorous feeling or desire; love; ardor

I think that’ll do just fine. ¬†Now it is time for poetry!


It is not for you
The sublime wonder of

Electric, stunning, through
Hands crackling with heat
Whispering along nerves alight with

Lips that sear words on
Collarbone, neck, shoulder
Engraving deeply through skin

Gently ravaging
Devouring the senses
Sweat trickling from secret pores

Denied from you save in sleep
Where the mind writes scrips,
Films hours of limitless

With strangers turned lovers
Acquaintances become your canvas
Painting scenes with brilliant nights of

Unguarded stolen moments
Between shifts and classes
You cannot help wanting

Hearts pounding in time
Drawing graffiti with red nails, press a
Stamp of ownership with careless teeth, tasting

Sweet and bitter
Salty sweat and tears
The rhythm and harmony of

You can smell it in her eyes
His fingers hear your

Engraving painting filming

Envelops ravages triumphs

Denied but yearning for

© Bridget Noonan, 2008, 2011.

Really, I might as well just call it Sex. Then again, I’m trying to show, not tell.

Well, if this doesn’t do it for ya, how about some music? This is… my favourite song in the history of our sweet planet so far. Clair de Lune by Claude Debussy.
Apparently it is in one of the Twilight movies? ¬†I have opinions on the movie, and the books, and Stephanie Meyer’s idea of a female role model being a witless worm dependent on her man (or any man she comes across, dead or alive) for protection and to think for her. Note to those who like Edward: stalking is not romantic, and it never will be; if you like the idea of someone you barely know sneaking into your room at night to watch you sleep, please seek professional help. Anyway. So if you like Twilight, good for you. If you hate Twilight, great for you. That song is amazing regardless.


Filed under Poetry


Do I have your attention with that title? Good. Let’s start with a definition, shall we?

Obsession Рn.
1. the domination of one’s thoughts or feelings by a persistent idea, image, desire, etc.
2. the idea, image, desire, etc. itself.

Or, from a medical dictionary:
Obsession Рn.
1. a persistent disturbing preoccupation with an often unreasonable idea or feeling.
2. psychiatry- a persistent idea or impulse that continually forces its way into consciousness, often associated with anxiety and mental illness.

Well that’s just slight variations on a theme.
I wonder what today’s poem could possibly be about?


nails must be uniform length
at all times always always
bite them pick them file
cuticles even straight perfect
pick them pick pick rip

is the door locked
check it know it check be sure

teeth fingers toes legs arms
not matching lengths
where’s the symmetry
no way to fix or file or pick
never never never the same

all scabs peeled stray hairs pulled
pinch twist yank repeat repeat

hands clean hands dirty
got to wash them again
touched some filthy money
gross unclean sickening
got to get it off off off

one two three
one two three
one two three

is the phone on silent
working no sound when working
but have to keep the phone close
just in case just to be sure just to check

what time is it now
thirty-eight seconds since the last

©¬†Bridget Noonan, 2010, 2011.

Well! Time to go do something that isn’t this for a little bit; something that won’t make me twitch.
Also, for some reason this reminds me of Hanners from QC. AKA Hannelore, AKA is the cutest damn thing ever. Um, if you’ve never read the comic before, I advise against a full archive binge unless you have like… time. Lots of time. Jeph’s on like post 1870+ or something.

DEFEAT AWKWARDNESS WITH MAXIMUM RIDICULOSITY. Top hats an’ pocket watches an’ waistcoats an’ shit.

That’s all, folks!


Filed under Poetry