Twitter chat between @textworkshop and @Event_Comm reminded me of this poem I submitted to English PEN’s made up words competition last year.


Barboured and booted against another wet day,
chatty and helpful he led us away.
He pointed to a landmark we’d already seen
on a part of the walk where we’d only just been.
A mile or so darker our footsteps (re)traced
the consequences of good sense, sadly misplaced.
All because we couldn’t quite make ourselves say
how we weren’t quite sure this was quite the right way.


Suggested definitions of Barbourimp welcome!

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