How I love words: a prose poem in praise of cadence

I love words. The way they flavour the things we feel, the things we see, the things that touch us. I love the way that they collaborate, conspire, and conjoin: the shapes they make in the mouth. I have my favourites, of course. Words whose geometry and chemistry give me secret pleasure in their repetition. Cadence. The way it hangs, amplifying its meaning in measured resonance. Resonance itself resonates, but verb and noun taste distinct upon the tongue.

I have no knowledge of the hierarchy of nouns and verbs: which is the parent and which the child. No inkling of the relative pre-eminence of action and indolence, of the transient and the immutable. With adjectives and adverbs things are clearer: they are secondary, the supporting actors of elaboration. But nouns and verbs tussle for supremacy in my sentences, playing chicken and egg with my reasoning.

To delve into the richness of allusion that my mother tongue affords, to unwrap each evocative layer from brute communication, prompts questions. Does a Spaniard savour the texture of expression with such gusto? I have no reason to doubt he does. But I am certain that, of all the advantages of my birthright, this shifting, subtle language is the most prized. I love these words, they are my favourites: which are yours?

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One Response to How I love words: a prose poem in praise of cadence

  1. Ele says:

    Beautiful..

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