#8 - verbs that end in -ate
germinate
generate
terminate
bifurcate
duplicate
replicate
resonate
enunciate
articulate
punctuate
hyphenate
communicate
conjugate
predicate
iterate
meditate
cogitate
contemplate
impersonate
emulate
venerate
fabricate
formulate
prevaricate
regulate
legislate
pontificate
complicate
exaggerate
investigate
mediate
moderate
modulate
participate
cooperate
collaborate
evaluate
speculate
appreciate
elucidate
illuminate
advocate
indicate
designate
stipulate
illustrate
decorate
laminate
aggravate
capitulate
negotiate
dedicate
commemorate
celebrate
scintillate
fascinate
captivate
marinate
titillate
salivate
(but we just ate)
asseverate
assimilate
coagulate
estimate
tabulate
calculate
situate
approximate
delineate
contaminate
commiserate
vaccinate
abbreviate
alleviate
eradicate
insinuate
implicate
incriminate
insulate
isolate
incarcerate
vindicate
exonerate
liberate
evaporate
dissipate
eliminate
vegetate
pollinate
propagate
regurgitate
urinate
defecate
copulate
populate
proliferate
inebriate
intoxicate
desolate
masturbate
fornicate
procreate
detonate
incinerate
decimate
devastate
obliterate
annihilate
subjugate
tolerate
elevate
hesitate
vacillate
abdicate
separate
segregate
congregate
agitate
agitate
agitate
demonstrate
(in the straits)
orate
radiate
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The word POET comes from the Greek word for maker, and so poems are made through craft and effort (additionally for the ancient Greek was the necessary inspiration from the Muses) . That's one valid view of the origin of poetry. The other, equally valid view is, as you put it, POETRY IS WHERE YOU FIND IT. And your poem seems to be saying, quite vociferously, you find poetry in WORDS. If this is your point of view, I am in full agreement. Playing with words, assessing their connotations, putting them into oppositions, finding just the right one to convey your tone - all of these activities are aspects of finding YOUR poem. I love this story, The painter Manet told his close friend the poet Mallarme he wanted to write poems because he had great ideas to express. Mallarme responded, My dear Manet, poems are not made with ideas. Poems are made with words.