Donging (A Poem)

On Monday night, due to the -30* C (or -45* C with wind chill) temperatures, we found ourselves stranded at home. Monday nights usually start our busy week with my husband being off at a meeting, so it was a treat to have the evening to ourselves. We dug out the Scrabble board and started a game.

I got the first turn, so drew my letters, sorted them on my rack, and realized that all of them made one word: DONGING. I threw it down on the board, quite pleased with playing all seven of my letters (I think it’s the first time I’ve ever done so), but my husband looked on dubiously.

Donging? Was that a word?
Well, of course it was—it’s the sound bells make.

He looked it up in the dictionary and declared it to be a noun, not a verb. I said that if he could make sootings (as he had in a previous game), then I could make donging.

He unhappily played a word off the O in donging and our game continued, but I managed to maintain the lead that my 74-point word had gotten me. I won the game by 25 points. True, I was having an unusually good game (like putting a J-word on a triple letter score) and he was having an average game. But much to my delight and his chagrin, that is the first (and probably only) time I’ve beaten my husband at Scrabble.

As for donging… well, it got some creative juices flowing…

All over town
The church bells were donging,
Proclaiming to all,
With jubilant gonging,
That Christ was born
That bright winter morn.
We strolled to church
While the bells kept donging,
And the pastor preached
About all our wronging
Our kin and friends
To reach unjust ends.

He told us all
With the church bells donging
To turn to Jesus
With all of our longing,
Repent, forgive,
And forever live.

Show Comments


  1. Janet Rubin February 2, 2008
  2. Valerie Dykstra February 1, 2008
  3. Nat January 30, 2008

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