I have been reading poems lately that are really powerful, both on here and elswhere. These poems have used (almost always) simple, relatively short words. All of which would be in a vocab of say a 10 year old. I also like long unusual words but they seem to have their place more as curiosities than as powerful messages. Maybe this is a good reminder
1) how rich our language is
2) that powerful combinations of simple words can be very powerful
3) Not to reach to eagerly for the countdown 9 letter words.

........just a thought, what do you think?

Win X

I guess the answer for me is that it has to sound poetic and flow off the tongue. That can be done with one long word or a few short ones stuck together. The important thing is for it to sound natural - not like someone is trying to impress you with their vocabulary. That isn't to look for a dumbing down of poetry or literature - I love long words - they just have to be used appropriately and for the right effect. There is definitely something to be said for not aways going with the first word that comes to mind - casting around for something more interesting. So much of writing poetry is done by feel for me. I don't consciously sit down and plan it out - it just comes - it just feels and sounds right. That is why it would never occur to me to raise this question. Though now you have raised it, I realise that it's worth talking about.

Beauty has to be in the word, maybe. My favourite words are dusk and dawn. Don't know why, always have been. They're short!

maybe:
1) it's not its length but its manipulation!
2) has it coloured your cheeks?
3) does the passage moisten your orbs?
4) does your passage moisten their orbs?
I could go on all night like this and probably will.

I see you have a lot of stamina Tommy - and you are right! Perhaps it has nothing to do with the length of the word and more to do with the tongue... how poetry trips off it - the subtle combination of the long and the short to produce successful art - for ultimate oral and auditory satisfaction.

try and fit marshmallow into a poem

I ran over a marshmallow,
His belly was skint and his skin sallow,
I popped him in my wheelbarrow
And went off in search of a jelly marrow.

You got me eating my own words Marianne!

Barry