Neologisms - Gibberish?

[jajdude]

A long time ago I wrote a poem or sort of song and used many made up words. See if I can recall it now, was written about 20 years ago. Not sure it'll be exactly the same. It was received well in a class I took for creative writing back then.

The Gibberish Song

I brought you a sunsmile to start the day,
Bought you roses but you threw them away,
I came to you with frozen hands,
And you sent me off with the marching bands.

Remember the moondays heartslide,
Those of the sanddial smoketape,
Remember our handfelt sharesmile,
As we walked a landmile floatscape?

Now the downscope in this hopetown
Has left my memory rusteyes,
With an earful of colorrays, clockrun,
And a blandishment of dustguise.

Everything's just twistcorn,
Rockpaint, silver skywall,
Rungbottom, rocketshoot, overtime,
And you and me and that's all.

[PrinceMyshkin]

I could sense the one you were having inventing these words, and thought that the plainspeech of the last line made a moving conclusion.

[Hawkman]

Interestingly, I heard Sir Andrew Motion say today, that there is something fundamental in the human psyche which responds to rhythm, rhyme and the desire to create nonsense words, which the education system thrashes out of us. You are obviously in touch with your inner child and still firing on all cylinders :D Good for you!

Welcome to the asylum. H

[Wilde woman]

What an adorable poem! You remind me a bit of Gerard Manley Hopkins, with your evocative neologisms. You should check him out perhaps for further inspiration. He's one of my favorites!

[jajdude]

Gerard Manley Hopkins,

have heard of him, quite a good writer.

Will check him out later. Thanks for the idea.

Ok

The world is charged with the grandeur of God.
2 It will flame out, like shining from shook foil;
3 It gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of oil
4Crushed. Why do men then now not reck his rod?
5Generations have trod, have trod, have trod;
6 And all is seared with trade; bleared, smeared with toil;
7 And wears man's smudge & shares man's smell: the soil
8Is bare now, nor can foot feel, being shod.

9And for all this, nature is never spent;
10 There lives the dearest freshness deep down things;
11And though the last lights off the black West went
12 Oh, morning, at the brown brink eastward, springs --
13Because the Holy Ghost over the bent
14 World broods with warm breast & with ah! bright wings.

[Jerrybaldy]

are you a friend of daffy?

[PrinceMyshkin]

are you a friend of daffy?

Isn't everybody (including MaryD, of course)?

[Maryd.]

Did I see my name mentioned?!!!