#SoCS Nov. 14/15 Indescribable

This post was written in (belated) response to Linda G. Hill’s prompt Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is: “indescribable.”  Use the actual word in your post or just base your post on something that defies description. My suggestion on this one; think about something that you’re passionate about and just start writing. Have fun!
There are millions of words in the English language, and yet some things are indescribable, but of course, that doesn’t deter us, stubborn bloggers and writers, we just write on and try desperately to describe the indescribable!

Things we can touch or see are usually easy to describe, but most indescribable things are also intangible, so instead of describing we use metaphors, similes, or personification in order to make them physical and describable.

Love for example becomes a budding rose, plant, or garden, or a throbbing heart, which can be red and robust or wilting and broken. It can be as bright as a star, as vast as the sea, or as striking as lightning. We can describe these things, because we can see them with our eyes and often feel them with our hands.

Is it even possible to describe love or heartache, happiness or distress, without making them tangible? Are all the words in the world insufficient?

Can you describe the colours you see at dawn or the smile on your child’s face?

Can you describe the sorrow and impotence you feel when Friday night at the disco or the stadium becomes a collective nightmare?

Is it even necessary to describe everything?

No wonder a picture paints a hundred words.

This beautiful song I heard when I was a teenager reminds me of the difficulties writers and artists can have describing feelings.

On days like today, I just want to bury myself in the sound of music and forget the hate.

Hope you’re lucky enough to be having a wonderful Sunday.


Published by LucciaGray

Writer, blogger, teacher, reader and lover of words wherever they are. Author of The Eyre Hall Trilogy, the breathtaking sequel to Jane Eyre. Luccia lives in sunny Spain, but her heart's in Victorian London.

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