Poetry, Prose, and Pressure
Becoming A Master and Commander of Language
The first thing I wish to tell you at the outset of this post is that I do not consider myself a master and commander of the English language, but I would like to be! You should desire to be also. To master one’s own language, let alone a foreign language, is something well worth pursuing. Language is the vehicle which God has given the soul to express its innermost thoughts. Language is a gift uniquely bestowed upon rational creatures and it comes with both privilege and responsibility.
How often your dog has desired to more fully express his wishes for the food at your family dinner table we may only surmise. Probably he would write sonnets about it if he could, but he cannot. It does not belong to him to command a language. To you and me, however, it has been given. It is included in the dominion mandate to master this just like all other things God made and put at our disposal. What a privilege this is! We have been given the ability to plum the hidden depths of our souls, where our thoughts and feelings and desires dwell, and to be able to draw them to the surface, as a man draws water from a well, to share them with others.
“The purpose in a man's heart is like deep water, but a man of understanding will draw it out.” Proverbs 20:5
Imagine how many times Balaam’s donkey had wanted to tell him that it was he who was an ass (a stubbed donkey, not a derrière) and not the other way around! Imagine the satisfaction when the Lord loosed his jaw and allowed it! But to you and to me it has been given to speak freely and as often as we please. It is a gift, but not one to take lightly. Too often we treat such a treasure carelessly and either babel impotently and aimlessly or, even worse, we use this gift to curse and destroy.
As the Lord’s brother, James, wrote in his epistle, “If anyone thinks he is religious and does not bridle his tongue but deceives his heart, this person's religion is worthless.” 1
Again he wrote,
Not many of you should become teachers, my brothers, for you know that we who teach will be judged with greater strictness. For we all stumble in many ways. And if anyone does not stumble in what he says, he is a perfect man, able also to bridle his whole body. If we put bits into the mouths of horses so that they obey us, we guide their whole bodies as well. Look at the ships also: though they are so large and are driven by strong winds, they are guided by a very small rudder wherever the will of the pilot directs. So also the tongue is a small member, yet it boasts of great things.
How great a forest is set ablaze by such a small fire! And the tongue is a fire, a world of unrighteousness. The tongue is set among our members, staining the whole body, setting on fire the entire course of life, and set on fire by hell. For every kind of beast and bird, of reptile and sea creature, can be tamed and has been tamed by mankind, but no human being can tame the tongue. It is a restless evil, full of deadly poison. With it we bless our Lord and Father, and with it we curse people who are made in the likeness of God. From the same mouth come blessing and cursing. My brothers, these things ought not to be so. Does a spring pour forth from the same opening both fresh and salt water? Can a fig tree, my brothers, bear olives, or a grapevine produce figs? Neither can a salt pond yield fresh water. 2
From this we discern that one of the most important responsibilities of man, in regard to the gift of language, is a moral responsibility. Not everything we think should be said (or written). In fact, those things which we should not say, in many cases, we should not really think either. As Jesus said, it is “out of the abundance of the heart” that the mouth speaks.3 We have a responsibility, before God, to make sure that the language of our hearts, as well as that of our mouths and our pens, is virtuous language. Hence the beloved apostle’s admonition “whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things.”4 We must fix our souls upon noble thoughts and deeds and feed upon truth, goodness, and beauty so that what wells to the top of our thoughts and is expressed by our words will be fresh water, potable for all.
The moral component of language is, I believe, of first importance. In fact, if one were only able to work on perfecting one aspect of their command of language, they should let it be this above all. If it comes down to a choice, let a person completely fail in grammar and eloquence of speech, but be unerring in truth and love! Nevertheless, we have the capacity to improve in more than one area at the same time, thanks be to God!
If the moral component of commanding language lies primarily in the realm of saying what is both true and good, then the less inherently moral part (indeed, everything is about morality to some extent) is in the realm of saying those things beautifully and effectively. Language is beautiful when what is said is said in accord with the natural harmony of language. Language is effective when it succeeds in communicating the author’s intent to his audience.
Can language be beautiful? I suppose the first time one considers this notion it might sound a bit odd. We tend to think of beauty in terms of objects in the world (e.g. “That sunset is beautiful!” or “She is a beautiful woman!” or “Girl with a Pearl Earring is a beautiful painting!”). Still, we admit that music can also be called beautiful. If there is a better word for what one should call Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata, I don’t know it.5 Certainly we have said, or heard it said, that so and so has “a beautiful voice.” Certainly we have all heard non-beautiful voices singing near us at some point. But what about language itself? Not the tone or pitch, necessarily, but the words in their context?
Consider the following statements:
“The moon’s light caressed the surface of the water and gave back its light to God.”
“The moonlight struck the water’s surface and reflected its rays back towards the sky”
“The moon shined and bounced off the water.”
Which is more beautiful? I trust you think that the first one is the most beautiful, but why? Consider the second of the three statements. It is equally as informative as the first sentence and it is even perhaps more technically accurate, but it is not as beautiful. Consider the third statement. This is both less beautiful than statements one and two, but also less clear. Did the author mean to say that the moon itself bounced off the water? Probably not, but that final sentence would leave us with some real ambiguity.
Admittedly, whether one should choose to write sentence versus sentence two may depend upon what you are writing. If one is writing a novel, I should suggest the first sentence. If one is writing an observation in a field journal for a science class, I should recommend the second sentence. No one should write the third sentence (other than for an example such as this), because it’s just a poorly formed, unclear, and all around ugly sentence.
Beauty can be divided into two categories, namely, intrinsic beauty and seemliness (or fitting beauty). Intrinsic beauty belongs to what is beautiful by its very nature. Seemliness refers to a kind of beauty which comes from something fitting, just as it should, in its proper place. It is the difference between a particular woman being beautiful (intrinsically) and a marriage between a man and woman being beautiful (fitting). It is the difference between the mountaintop view over the pine forest and the way the glove fits upon the hand just right. The beauty of language belongs almost entirely to this latter category. Language is beautiful when it both fits the occasion and when the words being used fit together as they should.
A word fitly spoken is like apples of gold in a setting of silver. (Proverbs 25:11)
The former is the domain of poetry and rhetoric (which gets all the glory when it comes to beautiful words) and the latter is the domain of grammar (which tends to get the eye-rolls when people insist on it). Note, however, that the beautiful expression of ideas absolutely depends upon the ability to express oneself correctly and clearly. An ungrammatical sentence murders beauty even when the sentiment uttered is a good and just one. The ability to form beautiful sentences starts with things as basic as knowing the parts of speech, distinguishing subjects from predicates, and (my own personal bane) proper punctuation. Without all of these things put into good order a sentence fails to carry the meaning its author intends and the possibility of beautiful and powerful language is aborted immediately.
Assuming, however, that one reaches basic competencies in grammar then he can also begin to work on other aspects of beautiful language such as the use of figures of speech and poetical constructions. Figures of speech are the bread and butter of good poetry and prose. Figures of speech use words and phrases to convey abstract ideas, beyond, or behind, the literal meaning of the words employed. I just used a figure of speech when I said that figures of speech are the “bread and butter” of good poetry and prose. One would be foolish to try to write their essay or poem on bread, and no amount of butter applied to paper will make a bad essay “gooder.” No, but just as bread and butter are fitting to one another, so also figures of speech are fitting to poetry and prose. The combination, in both case, makes the result far more palatable.
Figures of speech may be non-literal uses of language, but when used well they create clarity rather than detract from it. Language becomes beautiful when it fits together and when it fits the occasion. Just as “Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori”6 is a beautiful use of language, so it is also fitting to be reminded of this sentiment on the eve of battle and by the commanding officer who plans to stand next to you on the front line. Not only is the sentiment conveyed by these words beautiful and true (even if death is not literally sweet), but also the timing and context in which it is said has a kind of beauty.
How does one work on gaining a command of beautiful language? One does so similarly to the way one gains moral language.
Attend to the content of your heart.
Practice. Practice. Practice.
Every virtue (and becoming a good and beautiful communicator is definitely a virtue) is gained in the same way. We need examples which inspire us and make us desire some virtue and we need models to show us what it looks like to exercise that virtue. After that we simply need practice and lots of it. You gain a virtue by practicing that which you want to make your own.
Just as James and Paul and Jesus told us that we need to control our tongues by attending to that which we put into our hearts, so also we need to beautify our command of language by filling our hearts and minds with examples of beauty. This means reading a lot of Great Books and poetry and even taking time to appreciate creation itself. How many great poems are simply written in praise and thankfulness for beauty? I don’t know the percentage, but it is no mean amount.
Reading Homer, reading Virgil, reading Dante, reading Shakespeare, reading Austen, reading Dickens, reading Tolkien, etc., etc., etc., is what we need to fill up our hearts with beautiful content. Taking time to appreciate the stars in the night’s sky, leaning down to observe the blades of grass in your yard and the little critters among them, enjoying watching children at play with one another, etc., etc., these are what we need to fill our hearts with beautiful content. We must dwell upon such things, live among them, and begin to speak about and write in accordance with them.
The number one thing you need to do to become a great writer and speaker, beyond filling up the contents of your heart with beautiful poetry, prose, and appreciation of God’s creation is to simply start writing as much as possible. Every essay and every poem is a push-up which makes you stronger. Just keep going.
Poetry, especially, is for those who are serious about becoming great writers and speakers. Poetry is the pinnacle expression of language. By poetry I mean writing with specified constraints such as meter, rhyme scheme, alliteration, assonance, etc. Prose is wonderful in itself, but it is the constraints of poetry which force a person to dig deep and find just the right words, the words that in all the world fit best right there and right then. It’s one thing to know what you want to say, but to now submit yourself to rules which restrict the way in which you can say it, whether by counting syllables, stresses, or by letting a particular consonant sound drive the line, then you find yourself straining the muscles of your language competency. Every time you practice your command of language under specified constraints you get stronger.
Your poetry skills will never see fit to stay out of your prose, I can tell you that. Your growing language skills will wash back over everything you do. It will increase the beauty of your speech and writing as you learn to make your words fit together and to the occasion. Constraint gives way to beauty. Suddenly, you will also find that your beautiful command of language is not nearly so constrained as it used to be. You are becoming more free by the day. Our poetry and prose needs pressure to become perfect, so press yourself.
James 1:26 (ESV)
James 3:1-12 (ESV)
Luke 6:45 (ESV)
Philippians 4:8 (ESV)
Though a case could be made for “sublime.”
The Latin translated to “it is sweet and right to die for one’s country.”
I deeply resonate with this text, as it underscores the profound responsibility we carry in using language, not only as a tool for communication but as a reflection of our inner virtues. The idea that our words must be grounded in truth, goodness, and beauty aligns with my belief in the moral power of language. I’m especially moved by the call to engage in the disciplined practice of writing, emphasizing poetry as a medium that sharpens both technical skill and moral purpose. This approach to language where beauty and virtue intertwine reminds me of the transformative potential of words. Ultimately, this text inspires me to continue refining my own command of language, striving for clarity, integrity, and elegance in all that I express.
I second the notion of writing poetry to help an individual write more beautifully. The sonnet, I believe, is among the best forms to that end. It's short, structured, metered, and rhyming. Writing one--or many!--gets the little gray cells humming!