The Wisdom and Waspishness of Words

I write now not of the language of love, But of the love of language . . . How a word tastes on the tongue, And the print sears the eye, How the iambic beat of nouns and verbs Is like soft rock music . . . a gentle bass. Words line our life with silk And some clothe it with the rough shame of sackcloth, They bring and heal loneliness, Permanent in their passages. We are the wearer of words, They buoy us when we are in deep waters, And people our dreams with Shangri-La delights and dooms-day terrors. Only by looking in mirrors and clear sunlight Do we strip ourselves of their realities.

About these ads
Sponsored Content by LockerDome

We want to hear, did we miss an angle we should have covered? Should we come back to this topic? Or just give us a rating for this story. We want to hear from you.

Loading...

Loading...

Loading...

Save for later

Save
Cancel

Saved ( of items)

This item has been saved to read later from any device.
Access saved items through your user name at the top of the page.

View Saved Items

OK

Failed to save

You reached the limit of 20 saved items.
Please visit following link to manage you saved items.

View Saved Items

OK

Failed to save

You have already saved this item.

View Saved Items

OK