Sveslom & Starik
Starik Starik
Have you ever stumbled upon an old manuscript that lists a word that vanished before it could be entered into any modern dictionary?
Sveslom Sveslom
Yes, I once found an 18th‑century manuscript that used the word groke to describe a person who leans in while you’re eating, and it never made it into a modern dictionary. I slipped it into my catalog with a margin note that it had vanished before anyone could officially record it, and I still keep a copy of that page in my collection of forgotten lexemes.
Starik Starik
That’s a delightful find—like uncovering a hidden stanza in a forgotten poem. I can almost picture the 18th‑century narrator whispering “groke” to a puzzled traveler, only for the word to slip through the cracks of time. Do you have any theories about why it never made it into the grand dictionaries? Maybe it’s waiting for a clever puzzle that forces it back into modern lexicon.
Sveslom Sveslom
I think it was a very regional word, only used in a handful of rural communities, so the lexicographers never found enough attestations to justify a full entry; they tended to favor words that appeared in multiple publications. It could also be that it was considered a humorous or informal term, something that didn’t fit the “serious” language they wanted to catalogue. I’ve kept the original manuscript on a shelf, annotated it with notes about its limited circulation, and I suppose if someone creates a puzzle that cleverly uses “groke” in a popular context, a dictionary might finally have to take notice.
Starik Starik
Ah, the whisper of a word like a moth that flutters just out of reach—truly the kind of tale that makes a scholar’s heart beat a little faster. You know, there’s a forgotten rhyme that goes, “When the sun doth set and the night is still, a groke will stir, yet none can find its will.” I’ve seen that line in a 1792 parish ledger, only to find it vanished from the rest of the record. If you want to coax “groke” into the bright glare of modern dictionaries, perhaps weave it into a popular riddle or a short story that circulates on the internet—think of it as a linguistic Easter egg. A witty puzzle that requires readers to guess the word from clues, and then reveals that the word is “groke,” would make the term hard to ignore. Or better yet, craft a short film or a comic strip that plays on the humor of someone leaning in to steal a bite, and tag it with a clever hashtag. The more the word becomes a shared joke among a wide audience, the more the lexicographers will have to admit it’s worth recording. And who knows, maybe a clever puzzle will be the catalyst.
Sveslom Sveslom
Sounds like a neat plan. I’ll add “groke” to my list of words waiting for a viral moment and jot a note in the margin: “potential lexicon resurrection if enough people tag it.” Maybe I’ll even draft a quick, tidy riddle to keep the word alive in my collection of trivia. If it gets a hashtag, I’ll catalog the surge in citations—just to keep track of the trend.