It's all about Words

Like Dylan Thomas, I have spent my life in a love affair with words. The sound of them as they trip off the tongue. I have always considered myself lucky to be an English speaker, learning a language that has been influenced by so many other languages. I have been in awe of those who use this language most effectively, who were able to use it to its fullest potential. John Milton summoned the power of these words, in phrases like

To set himself in Glory above his Peers,
He trusted to have equal'd the most High,
If he oppos'd; and with ambitious aim
Against the Throne and Monarchy of God
Rais'd impious War in Heav'n and Battel proud
With vain attempt. Him the Almighty Power
hurled headlong, flaming from th' Ethereal Skie
With hideous ruine and combustion down
To bottomless perdition, there to dwell
In adamandine Chains and penal Fire,
Who durst defie th' Omnipotent to Arms.

When he speaks of God, he uses some of the most majestic words in our language to paint the picture of One who has no material image, except within our imagination. When he describes God tossing Lucifer down to Hell, he uses the words "hurled headlong, flaming" as if the friction of the speed of the throw caused this rebel angel to burst into spontaneous combustion in the sky as he was thrown to hell.

William Shakespeare, in Sonnet 116, speaks of love this way:

"... it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken."

What he says, while romantic and true, is not particularly extraordinary. He uses the metaphoric comparison of love to a star that a constant that can weather storms; and that guides every ship home. It is his choice of words and their overall effect in the rhythm of the lines that makes this sonnet one of the most popular of all the poems written about love.

Thomas Gray, in "Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard," uses language to paint on our mind a vision of the peaceful end of a long day, and plays the music of the church bell and the tinkling of the cowbells, the "lowing" of the cows and soft "droning" of the insects.

The curfew tolls the knell of parting day,
The lowing herd wind slowly o'er the lea,
The plowman homeward plods his weary way,
And leaves the world to darkness and to me.

Now fades the glimm'ring landscape on the sight,
And all the air a solemn stillness holds,
Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight,
And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds.

Words. It always comes back to words. Their unique power and the beauty of the language. I know that the observations in this post are not particularly unique, more like a literature lesson, actually. (I am a high school teacher, after all, so that should be no surprise.) The purpose of this blog is not to explore original research in literature. It is nothing more than a conversation on writing in general, and poetry in particular. It is my effort to keep writing so that, hopefully, I will become a better writer. It is also a way for me to expose some of my writing, particularly my poetry, to the light of day.

And so, with that in mind, I offer a Shakespearian sonnet that I wrote about my feeling about words and language as a closing for this post.

Sonnet 8
Christopher Bogart

Like ancient dragon’s teeth that Cadmus threw
On fertile Theban soil so long ago,
That sprung to full-grown soldiers, armed anew -
So from our minds, words to ideas do grow.
Great words spring forth sometimes from grating sound,
Alarm the ear, awakening their power.
Sometimes soft sounds around the mouth abound,
To hound ideas from images they shower.
But words are most effective when they speak
To waken thoughts and give those thoughts a voice.
From boundless depths to towering heights, they peak
Our intellect, giving its voice a choice.
For, were it not for words, our thoughts would fruit
With stillborn children damned, forever mute.