auricomous… Angie’s Antics
The A-Z of Unusual Words (Part A)
auricomous: having golden or blond hair
***
Despite being newly acquainted with auricomous, we're now fast friends. I was Daddy’s golden-haired princess. I stoutly protested as a youngster, with bouncy blonde ringlets, “I’m not Blombie!” (Blondie). Later, honey blonde became what I generously deludedly refer to as platinum blonde.
Several auricomous generations have blessed the unsuspecting world with their musical endeavours. Family singalongs were accompanied by my Nana playing Honky-Tonk styled piano.
Her daughter, my Mum… another fair-haired child, learnt piano as an adult. What a firstborn perfectionist! I have not one single recollection of any piece being played straight through from start to finish. Misbehaving notes demanded a restart! A repeat performance! An infinity loop… one endured enjoyed by the entire family.
Threat of exams scared me off piano lessons until my teens. My wily father raced off to work just as I commenced sixty minutes of practice. The household futilely tried to slumber on! Inoffensive ivory keys were crankily pounded when I was sleep deficient. A reading addiction had paperback novels propped precariously on the sheet music shelf… wedged open between music books crammed full of scales and finger exercises. Playing by memory, my latest 'read' transported me to distant lands… until I thudded rudely back to the piano. Wraithlike, my mother appeared at the door... almost springing her delinquent daughter! Mistakes! What mistakes? Unstoppable me! Starting over; correcting errors; precise playing… a waste of my time! Lively Allegro was my best musical friend.
Fast forward to my surfer dude son... long blonde curls flew wildly as he passionately played his drum kit by the hour. Dish washing became a protracted affair as he maniacally air drummed to music streaming through his ear pods.
His baby sister’s musical journey was brief and torturous! Talent, skill and long blonde tresses were no consolation nor cure for hypoxia.
Mummy, I’ve got asthma! I can't play bass clarinet! I can’t breathe!
Don’t be silly!
Soon after, an ENT surgeon was amazed she'd managed to breathe, let alone play a woodwind instrument! Unsurprisingly, a tonsillectomy followed post haste. Poor Bass Clarinet held bad memories and so he exited her life forever. However, her Rapunzel honey blonde locks still follow her on her life’s adventures.
Golden hair... everything a musician could want!
***
auricomous
Majestic music
Mangled monotonously…
Mercifully muted.
*
Super speedy song
Auricomous princess plays
Notes so often wrong!
**
Blonde curls bounce and fly
Son, crazily drums the air
Dishes slowly dry.
***
Golden-haired daughter
Vainly gasps for breath like a
Lamb to the slaughter.
****
Sunshine coloured hair
beautifully adorned Musos'
Exuberant flair!
*****
Written for Penny Fuller’s challenge below. Apologies that auricomous spun me off on a tangent down Memory Lane!
About the Creator
Angie the Archivist 📚🪶
Labrador‘s personality🐕🦺… attention span of a gnat! 🙃
Top Stories: Race Against Time; Elusive Parkrun; Painting Pandemonium
The Quandry; A Parade Of Shoes; Shadow of You; Her Majesty Mia
Keep reading
More stories from Angie the Archivist 📚🪶 and writers in Poets and other communities.
coccineous
Coccineous: bright red *** Bright red has always been my favourite colour, which is understandable since I love strong bold or contrasting colours. As an extrovert, red always excites, energises and draws me like a magnet. Except when it doesn't! Red traffic lights and Stop signs annoy, irritate and infuriate me. However, Red remains my stalwart friend and safeguard. Without her, my cherry red blood could spill and then I’d be pushing up daisies up on a hill. So, Red it is, and Red it remains... she's the colour for me!
By Angie the Archivist 📚🪶about a year ago in Poets
FPS: The Last Flame Challenge Winners
Welcome to our first Winners Announcement of the year and to the final challenge in the Fall Poetry Series. The Last Flame invited writers to sit with endings, using fire as a central image to consider what remains when something burns out: ash, warmth, memory, silence, or the faint promise of what comes next. The strongest pieces treated endings as gradual rather than sudden, allowing them to flicker, dim, and linger.
By Vocal Curation Team5 days ago in Resources
Comments (10)
well written poem
Donna nailed it and I concur!
I’m loving the words you’re choosing for these entries! And the wonderful “tangents” of memories that you share so splendidly! From one auricomous lass to another, Brava!
What a wonderful slice of your life, Angie! Your Nana played Honky-Tonk piano? I'm so jealous!
Fantastic! As always you did a great job!
Torturous! And wonderful.
Well, I quite enjoyed this trip down Memory Lane. Great word and your whole series of poems were excellent!
I love this Angie, the way you let both the golden tresses and musical gene flow through the family. I suppose some things are genetic and others a choice, either way a tradition seems to be upheld!
This is so cool, Angie, and I’ve learned a new word!
Speaking of acrimonious, I learnt yesterday that people with black hair are known as noirette, like how people with brown hair are brunette. Loved your poem and thank you for teaching me a new word!