Writing Prose Can Make Us Yearn for More Expressive Forms of the Language

In rough numbers, there are 6200 posts here, about 5000 of which are mine, and, of those, there are probably 20 on the subject of writing per se.   Here’s one more….

Occasionally, we who write prose for a living are reminded of how greatly limited we are in our mode of expression, in ways that poets are not. Here’s a powerful example, “Black Baldy Stallion” by Robert Earl Keen, a song about a man whose fierce love for a woman compels him to ride his horse through the cold, treacherous dark of night in the canyons near the U.S.-Mexican border, crossing the river and continuing on the other side into the dawn in a desperate attempt to see her after a long and agonizing absence. What makes the lyrics so compelling in this case is not so much the colorful use of the language (though there’s plenty of that), but rather the way each verse is written such that there is a syllable accompanying every beat, mimicking the rhythmic pounding of the horse’s hooves, the thundering intensity of which gives way to the exuberant chorus; it’s a forceful device that carries the listener right into the very scene.

The Spanish guitar helps to set the tone as well. Check out the solo between the second and third verses, a work of art in its own right.  I find this stuff breathtakingly beautiful, and I hope you do too.