L'aura del Campo

Intonations, tone, show more than tell. A lilibonelle?

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by panthera

L'aura del campo

WINTER: 9 Sultan (27 January) 27º in the morning.

'é a lua, é a lua, na quintana dos mortos'
♣ Federico García Lorca ♣

Intonation and length

We think of English as a language without tones in the Chinese sense, but many languages use intonation in other ways.

For instance, I always had difficulty with French because the intonational patterns cover a phrase. Falling, rising, rising-falling and falling-rising were beyond me when I was in high school and college. I can't even remember which were used and what they meant!

Two examples in English.

Example #1:

1. Oh. [o] short (almost no 'w'), cut-off, mid-tone.

2. Oh? [ow] longer, rising tone, definite 'w'.

3. Oh. [ooow] very long, falling tone.

4. Oh. Oh. [uh7ow] two part, high tone - glottal stop [7] - low tone.

1. Can be used to shut off a conversation, to show disapproval, shock.

2. Can be a question or hopeful comment or positive surprise.

3. Can indicate concern and worry [despair].

4. Can indicate 'too bad' or fear.

All of these are expressed differently depending on your dialect. They tend to be spelled the same except for 4 which perhaps is better spelled 'uh oh'. However, when your parent spoke these to you as a child you knew they weren't the same. Unfortunately, in written English differentiating can be a chore.

Example #2:

5. You went to the store, eh?
6. Didya go to the store?

In 5 the intonational pattern is falling with a rise at the end (similar to French "n'est-ce pas?"). In 6 the intonation is over the entire phrase.

So how does this affect your writing? In dialogue it may be important to convey attitude by speech patterns that show it instead of a narrator that must explain everything ("she said disparagingly", "he responded tersely") like stage directions in a theatre production . Adverbs can weaken prose and can be deadly in poetry.

In both prose and poetry it affects the formality of the work. Technical works (journalism and especially text-books) may not make any distinctions at all.

In poetry, it can change the number of syllables and the natural rhythm of the piece change the whole message or totally confuse (especially in a short piece).

How you write these words that have different intonations on paper, how you convey this to the reader is up to you. It might not even matter. Just remember that as a child it sure did!

Me?

Argh. Okay physically, but just plain weary. Had trouble staying awake around 4 p.m. yesterday. Went to coffee shop later and was quite perky (am I allowed to use that word?).

Toni came by and showed me his pencil drawings. He is very good at shading. I was surprised to see him as he'd been recently beaten up, but he looked okay. And I was shocked that he actually sat down and had a pleasant conversation with me because two years ago he wanted to kick my ass and turned my friends against me ... So color me puzzled and cautiously pleased.

A mutual friend of ours has gone into detox. I don't drink, so it is very hard for me to understand alcoholism. I get the part about it being an addiction and have seen my friends shaking from the dts (delirium tremors). I also know that in many folks there is an underlying depression and/or despair, that I totally understand.

Just don't understand how difficult it is to live as a street drunk, to rarely be sober, to give oneself up entirely to it time after time. I'm glad my friend went to detox, but there will be a bottle waiting for him when he gets out. I hope I can get to see him first and maybe we can go out and do something together before he's back to sucking on the jug.

The gardener's request

Place two lips there, upon my brow
to kiss my life goodbye.
So when I'm planted in the earth,
my soul may still arise.

Go plant the bulbs above my bones
and let them multiply,
until this spot is golden-graced
when time has passed me by.

They'll meet you when you visit me
when snow-melt drains below silk trees
and golden hordes of daffodils
greet tulips red upon the hills.

[163.562]

Ten seasons after

Along the path of the pincushion flowers
the benches carried the names of the dead
while brown leaves swirled, last impression of summer,
here where the children once laughed off their heads.

The benches carried the names of the dead
monuments scattered like bones before dogs,
cold metal slats along paths where once sped,
the bicycles, tricycles, mothers that jogged.

While brown leaves swirled, last impression of summer,
from ginkgos, sycamores, elm, oak and ash,
the grass lay baked; heat-exhausted, it slumbered
and the drought caked all with a layer of ash.

Here where the children once laughed off their heads,
here where they swung like monkeys through bars
and climbed up the slides to fall, caught instead.
Here read the lavings of a village long dead.

[163.560]

This last one is a lilibonelle, more or less: "The Lilibonelle" . Alfred, alfred booth, wanbli ska , has a weekly challenge; this week was linking than bauk couplets: "Invalid Entry" . Go take a peek.

The weather has been very nice. Sunny yesterday and mild, over 52 degrees. This morning the sun is trying to peek out between clouds and winter returns. Saw a dandelion yesterday, but I wasn't fooled.

IMAGES

Weak sun, grey clouds; glint off the cars; slight breeze; the sight and sigh of traffic outside; broken fence; stillness inside; the refrigerator motor humming; water dripping; hot radiator; poinsettia losing its leaves.

READING

Not much! Set down with a book that takes one down the highways of Kansas: Route 36; Route 56; Route 83; I 35, et cetera. I'll have to actually read it as it goes milepost by milepost covering the geology and geography of the state.

Blogville

I'm trying to get though all the blogs every week. Since I have over 80 I check on a regular basis, this has presented a challenge. I am now keeping track in a Moleskine booklet that my friend Jessica gave me as a present long time ago. So ... I might be posting a comment days after you wrote an entry. As some of you know, I love posting comments!

Now on a more serious note. there are young bloggers here who need our support. One such young lady lives in England. Rivka, Sheherazade , is a musician and expresses her love of music in her blog on a regular basis. "Invalid Entry"  expresses her struggles with a large violin (almost the size of a viola) and small hands. Since I have pudgy fingers I relate, but I stick my hands in the soil; I don't play the strings. And like many of us she has paid the price of her passion that makes her different from other teenagers, including what I consider harassment "Invalid Entry"  that makes me cringe, reminding me of my own traumas. I'm sure she would love to be read by musicians and young people (and fellow Brits too!) and receive some kind comments.

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