For those small words that get lost in the crowd.

There’s this game I used to play called Poetry for the Neanderthal. It goes like this:

You’re given a word. Using only single syllables, and working with a partner, you try to describe the clue until they guess it. It’s harder than it sounds, but like anything in life, practice makes the world go round, or something like that.

 

Let me give you an example: apple.

It’s a fruit. Red. Makes crunch when bite.

 

Simple enough, right? But there are rules: you lose a point

if you use words with more than one syllable,

if you spell the word,

if you make sounds to describe it,

if you use hand gestures, or

if you switch languages to get around the rules.

 

Let me try another: water.

Falls from sky, can turn to ice when cold.

 

Still manageable. But then you get a tougher word, and the real fun begins. Here’s an example:

Word: Destination

You go here when you need to map it.

Google Maps?

No, um, this is a place you go to.

A library.

No, eh, when you need to go a place, it is called what?

An office.

No, um, when you go to a place and need to map it, it is called what?

Destination?

Yes! omg.

 

The game shines brightest when the words are tough and players start relying on their shared intuition. I’ve seen teams where one person gives the most vague and baffling clues, yet their partner gets it right away. It’s fascinating. Almost magical. A kind of bond that doesn’t rely on perfect communication but on mutual understanding—an invisible thread connecting certain people. Some might call it emotional intelligence.

For me, the most beautiful part of this game is how it forces you to strip away complexity and describe something in its rawest, most primitive form. It’s a skill—one that requires practice, sure, but also a mindset. And if you embrace it, it changes how you explain things, even in real life. I’ve started turning to AI to see how it approaches this simplicity, and here’s what it came up with:

 

Eg1. Word: Cramp

Me: You feel this when you run lots, might hurt, I think it is like a lump of sort.

(Stitch?)

No, um, might not be lump, it is when you hurt but feels good when time pass. Could be when you run.

(Soreness?)

I give up.

AI: Pain in your leg or arm, makes it hard to move.

 

Eg2. Word: Siesta

Me: Like a nap but long.

(Sleep?)

No, um, can be long but short too.

(Rest?)

No, can be two or three time pass.

(Slumber?)

I give up.

AI: Short rest in day, to feel new.

 

Eg3. Word: Voicemail

Me: When folks call but you don’t pick up, it goes to where?

(Voicemail.)

Yes!

AI: Place for calls you miss, with words to hear.

 

Using tools like AI has taught me to appreciate the beauty of simplicity. In a world where complexity is celebrated, it’s refreshing to pare things down. Simplicity doesn’t mean unintelligence; in fact, it often takes more effort and clarity to express a complex idea with simple words.

I choose simplicity in my writing not because I lack vocabulary or because I can’t spell—well, maybe the second is a little true—but because I believe ideas can reach further when written plainly. Simple words can speak to everyone, from adults to children. And the earlier we can help children grasp the complexities of life, the better prepared they’ll be for this sometimes cruel but still fantastic world.