Show Me Your Assonance

I’ve mentioned before that I’m a huge English nerd, right?  Yeah, I think it’s pretty obvious.  I noticed this again recently while listening to the Mumford and Sons song “The Cave” and noting the wonderful examples of assonance present, especially in the second stanza.  I swear, when they say, "The harvest left no food for you to eat/ You cannibal, you meat-eater, you see,” I can practically hear the gnawing sound of someone chewing or grinding on food…which I suppose is exactly the kind of imagery that belongs in those lines. 

It’s like they’re eating their words, so to speak.  Ba da bum. (I’m sorry.  I couldn’t help it.)

I like assonance, though.  Assonance and alliteration, really, but even more, I love the way some writers manipulate words, creating music in the mere sounds that coalesce when certain words are placed next to one another.  That’s one of the main reasons I like Mumford and Sons, apart from the fact that they use many Shakespeare references in their songs.  They just know how to make words sound beautiful and lyrical.

I know I have more to say on this subject, but for now I just wanted to get this thought on the page.  It was just something I was thinking about yesterday, and maybe later on I’ll compile a list of songs whose lyrics I find especially compelling.  However, for now I will just say that for all those who haven’t heard them yet, you should check out Mumford and Sons.   I particularly dig the banjo action they have going.

Happy listening,

Shannon

And Haiku to You, Too

This weekend, after a harmless conversation about Oprah Winfrey and Lean Cuisine, I got to thinking about haikus.  (If you were a part of the conversation, you’d totally understand.) 

The thing I love about haikus is their ability to convey a fully-formed and (mostly) coherent thought in the smallest amount of space.  For those who don’t know, a haiku is a Japanese poetic form consisting of 17 syllables broken up into a pattern of 5-7-5.  I’ve often found that haikus are like hand grenades: deceptively small until you pull the pin and watch the explosion that follows.  You’ll rarely find a poem shorter than a haiku, but when you actually read it, it will leave you wondering at how something so tiny could say so much and fill your brain with so much awesome.

For writers who find themselves a bit too wordy, writing a haiku is an excellent way to practice the art of brevity.  Sometimes it’s hard to stay concise and only say what is absolutely necessary in order to make your point.  With a haiku, it’s nearly impossible to add unnecessary fluff.  As an added bonus, writing haikus may just stir some story ideas in the process.