Coccinella bipunctata’s
Journey home: linguistic data.
Metric feet in names, abounding;
Trochees’ constant rhythm, sounding.
Lunar leap from one bos taurus;
Strigidae as wisdom’s chorus;
Ovis aries, fleece-donating:
Latin names and verse conflating.
This is a non-NaPoWriMo poem that came to mind this autumn, rather than last April.
It takes its inspiration from a wonderful quote from Dr. Percy Julian, an organic chemist who spoke candidly about the challenges of jargon within the field, citing another scientist, Sir J. B. S. Haldane:
“I don’t want to frighten those of you who are not familiar with organic chemistry. I should have said in the beginning that one hardly expects an organic chemist to be able to speak without his gobbledygook in his language. As a matter of fact, one hardly expects a scientist to speak without that, and therefore scientists are usually and traditionally poor speakers, I warn you… The late Sir J. B. S. Haldane, the great biologist, put it rather aptly when he said that our language doesn’t lend itself to poetry. ‘Ladybird, ladybird fly away home’ becomes impossible when you must call the ladybird Coccinella bipunctata.”
Dr. Percy Julian, quoted in “Forgotten Genius,” NOVA
The quote here refers to the scientific use of binomial nomenclature as a particularly specific type of jargon.
Coccinella bipunctata’s
Journey home: linguistic data.
Every time I’ve heard this fantastic quote, I’ve appreciated it– while also still hearing a rhythm inherent in the Latin name that Dr. Julian cites! In drafting this poem, I reclassified the ladybird’s flight as “linguistic data.”
Metric feet in names, abounding;
Trochees’ constant rhythm, sounding.
The next two lines highlight the metric foot in Coccinella bipunctata, which is the trochee, a two-syllable foot where the accent is on the first syllable (e.g., LADder, TIger). The trochee is the mirror image of the iamb, a two-syllable foot where the accent is on the second syllable (e.g., exIST, aMUSE, deLIGHT).
As a sidenote, a favorite discovery since beginning this website has been Isaac Asimov’s “You, Too, Can Speak Gaelic,” in which he comments on the “drumming dactylic feet” of chemical nomenclature (e.g., AL-de-hyde). It’s interesting to think about whether these metric trends are pronounced overall, in the different naming systems.
Lunar leap from one bos taurus;
Strigidae as wisdom’s chorus;
Ovis aries, fleece-donating…
The next few lines cite celebrated animals from various verses, in terms of their Latin names. Respectively, these are: the cow that jumped over the moon; “wise old owls” dwelling in their tree (using the family name here to suit the rhyme scheme!); and sheep of various hues and homes, all from famous nursery rhymes.
Latin names and verse conflating.
One of my main themes here is that jargon can be intimidating, but it also carries with it one same benefit that everyday words do: it can be used in rhymes that are fun to read. This poem is a direct acknowledgement of my ongoing goal in that regard.
Chemphasis 