Daily Archives: March 27, 2022

Metaplasm

Metaplasm (met’-a-plazm): A general term for orthographical figures (changes to the spelling of words). This includes alteration of the letters or syllables in single words, including additions, omissions, inversions, and substitutions. Such changes are considered conscious choices made by the artist or orator for the sake of eloquence or meter, in contrast to the same kinds of changes done accidentally and discussed by grammarians as vices (see barbarism). See: antisthecon, aphaeresis, apocope, epenthesis, paragoge, synaloepha.


I made my way through life with moovement on my own two footies, fancy free and gracefully, with glee and snap. I never listened to the blues—the lamentations of dis-pair: of broken up couples whining in the mirror at their sole reflection: taking note of every tear, counting the sobs, and the tissues, to tally their pains. Nope. I’ve kept myself alone from the start; alone to the end. I live in the vale of solitude where bees bzzzz to no avail—they’re all deaf, but they can feel the vibrations of each other. However, they don’t know what they mean, like water in a stream that washes over your feet, or the feeling of a breeze on your skin, or the warmth of the sun.

We shuffle from one place to the next, dragging our hopes and fears along with us: hopes in a recycling bin, fears in a garbage bag. We don’t know where we’re going, but we go nevertheless, conscious of our burden, relentlessly looking. But like I said, I’m happy without all the heart-raking travail. I have a cat.


Definition courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu).

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