Onomatopoeia and Dramatic Effect

 

Definition:

1. The naming of a thing or action by a vocal imitation of a thing associated with it (as buzz, hiss)
2. The use words whose sound suggests the sense.                                                                                                                                                            Onomatopoeia is the visual representation of an audible sound associated with an object or an action.^[2] It is a technique frequently used in poetry and other literary arenas to attain the dramatic effect of sound without specifically naming its source or cause.                                                                                                                                                                                             

   Origins

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   Onomatopoeia originates from the Greek words which mean "name" and "I make".^[3] Common examples of onomatopoeia are animal sounds: "oink", "quack", "moo", etc. These sounds are not standard across languages. Rather, they conform to the linguistic system of the speaker. For example, in America we often say "knock-knock" to imitate the sound of someone knocking on a door, but Russian speakers typically say "tuc-tuc" to describe the same sound. Similarly, in Turkey a turkey's call is described as "glu glu".^[4] More examples of the sounds that animals make across a variety of different languages can be found at Derek Abbott's Animal Noise .                                                                                                                

   Cultural Impact

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   As previously noted, onomatopoeic words do not always transfer unchanged (or even in a similar form) from one language to another, however certain aspects of onomatopoetic words retain their impact across cultures. Possibly the most notable similarity seen across language communities is the fact that onomatopoeic terms often carry an intimate emotional attachment to sound,^[5] because of this connection, onomatopoetic words are capable of being exploited for their emotional resonance. This makes the choice between terms such as "boom" and "bang" far more nuanced than a simple one-to-one transliteration of sound to word. For example, while "boom" lets the audience know a loud noise has just occurred, "bang" can add the feeling of surprise. Advertising firms, political campaigns, artists, and authors (whether consciously aware or not) often use this aspect of onomatopoeia to influence their audience's emotional sensibilities.               
   
                 
   
   Taboo is another common place in which onomatopoeia is employed. Whether the intention is to escalate or diminish conflict, onomatopoeia finds itself as a metonymic stand-in for another sensitive subject. Genitalia and excrement are often subjected to this treatment, using sounds to describe the act being committed, rather than stating outright the act itself. In this way, the opposite from emotional exploitation is done, rather an emotional filter is being constructed to abate the uncomfortable feelings cultural taboos produce.
   
   Widely used in comic books & graphic novels (e.g. bang, crash, pow). Also used in advertising, such as for Rice Krispies cereal Snap, Crackle, and Pop, which became the names of the elves who are the mascots for the cereal. Obviously this is a technique that is utilized in all literary forms. Of considerable note is the fact that in academic or formal writing, onomatopoeic words are often disparaged as being improper or slang. Futurists and Dadaists explored this conflicted aspect of onomatopoeia, using its alienated status within language to explore feelings of alienation in a modern world applying it to their art, poetry, and manifestos.                                                                                                       

   Visual and Literary Use

   Cover of "Zang Tumb Tuuum" (1914)

   
   

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   F.T. Marinetti

   F.T. Marinetti's Zang Tumb Tuum (1914) uses onomatopoeia throughout, and even the title "Zang Tumb Tuuum" (seen to the right here) is onomatopoetic of a bomb. In this excerpt (see below) from Zang Tumb Tuum Marinetti uses the word "express" and "press" in such a way as to make it onomatopoetic of the sound the train's breaks make. He manages to expand the use of onomatopoeia even to words that are not inherently associated with the thing.
   
   train train fever of my
   train express-express-expressssssss press-press
   press-press-press-press-press-press-press-press-
   press-press-pressssssss stung by the sea salt                                                                                                                                                                             
   
   KOO-KOO
   
   There exists a word in English for this, and it's the 'cuckoo clock.' With its high pitched "KOO" sliding down to its much lower pitch 'KOO' this sound covers a lot of auditory range. This offers food for thought as to whether this is why we refer to people who are scatter-brained as 'cuckoo.'
   
   Regardless of any intellectual queries posited by onomatopoeic terms, simple exposure to the words through daily life is enough to build up the necessary register of words to understand what's going on. When paired with images as they are in this video, explanation is typically built in.                                                                                                                                                                 
   
   Nancy Sinatra's "Bang Bang" provides an example of onomatopoeia being utilized for dramatic effect. The plosive 'b' that starts the word "bang" is essentially a large burst of air being released at the moment the lips open, and this explosive burst imitates the popping sound of a gun being shot. The lyrics of the song are as follows:
   
   I was five and he was six,
   We rode on horses made of sticks,
   He wore black and I wore white,
   He would always win the fight
   
   Bang bang, he shot me down,
   Bang Bang, I hit the ground,
   Bang bang, that awful sound,
   Bang bang, my baby shot me down
   
   Seasons came and changed the time,
   When I grew up I called him mine,
   He would always laugh and say,
   Remember when we used to play
   Bang bang, I shot you down,
   Bang bang, you hit the ground,
   Bang bang, that awful sound,
   Bang bang, I used to shoot you down
   
   Music played and people sang,
   Just for me the church bells rang,
   Now he’s gone I don’t know why,
   And to this day sometimes I cry,
   He didn’t even say goodbye,
   He didn’t take the time to lie
   
   Bang bang, he shot me down,
   Bang bang, I hit the ground,
   Bang bang, that awful sound,
   Bang bang, my baby shot me down
   
   Baby shot me down                                                                                                                                        
3. http://peaceandwarpoetics.wikispaces.com/Onomatopoeia

                                                                                                                                                                 

How To Make Teenagers Interested in Poetry

Poetry has a real stigma among young people (let’s pretend it’s just in young people). It’s seen as THE most boring thing on the planet, ever. (Most) parents hate it, (some) teachers don’t understand it and (all) students groan at the very word.

Why? What happened in their childhoods for them to react to poetry with demonstrable hatred? Were they abducted, held against their will and forced to try to find a rhyme for ‘orange’? Did their parents recite Coleridge to them on the naughty step? Did someone bash them in the face with the complete works of Shel Silverstein?

 

 Here is the Shel Silverstein poem entitled “Merry…”

No one’s hangin’ stockin’s up,
No one’s bakin’ pie,
No one’s lookin’ up to see
A new star in the sky.
No one’s talkin’ brotherhood,
No one’s givin’ gifts,
And no one loves a Christmas tree
On March the twenty-fifth.

It’s not just the jaded older teens, either, with their affected disdain for everything. I have done a lot of work in primary and secondary schools, and it’s always the same. I hear comments like, “I thought poetry was for old people”, or “I thought it had to be about flowers and stuff, I didn’t know it could be fun.” And my favourite: “When I first heard we were doing poetry, I was gutted.”

What makes a teenager gutted at the thought of making poetry? How has the education system sucked any interest out of playing with language, telling stories and expressing yourself? They can’t all have been taught by stuffed shirts like Christopher Bantick (long story – Google him), so why do they think poetry is going to be impenetrable, irrelevant to their modern lives and just plain boring? Maybe it starts in primary school, where they’re being asked from an early age to write dinky little verses about what they like about school, with very little emphasis being put on the purpose and process of writing. I remember my experience of poetry in primary school was making up poems about cats sitting on mats, and that was it. It wasn’t about expression or creativity; it was colouring within the lines.

Maybe school kids are only being taught outdated texts with page poetry about gardens or whimsical love poems about stars. Maybe they’re not being given anything more contemporary, or urbane or direct. And maybe (almost certainly, unfortunately) they’re not being exposed to the exciting and energetic live poetry scene that’s exploding on stages all around the world, and accessible on the internet (especially YouTube).

Of course, poetry can be thrilling or moving or revelatory or cathartic, and it can be experimental or formal and so on. It’s a creativity engine. And I find, in particular, performance of the written word to be a surefire way to open teens up to the possibilities. Even just drawing the dots for them between poetry and hip-hop, which is a common touchstone, gets immediate results. Add in a bit competitive spirit, in the form of slams, and you can find reluctance and sneering turn into a queue to sign up.

I’ve seen kids, a week after they were so shy they could barely say their name in front of a classroom, beating their chest and shouting lines charged with emotion and personal insight into the ears of their amazed classmates, and all because they were introduced to a poetic form that allows them to say what’s on their mind without any rules and with complete freedom of expression. Getting teenagers to write is about listening, about getting them razzed up about something they care about. Some of the most insightful and touching poems I’ve ever heard from anyone are by young people talking about what it’s like to be a kid, their crazy experience of Facebook, cyberbullying, selfies, 12ies, parents, homework and the future. Some kids are angry, scared and unsure, some are enthusiastic, funny and experimental, and poetry is a fantastic way for them to express it all, and perhaps even refine their feelings about the world as a result. The relief I witness when they learn that it doesn’t have to rhyme and it certainly doesn’t have to be about flowers is like a fire hydrant exploding.

Holding a poetry slam is a great way to get a classroom interested in writing poetry. School kids of all ages absolutely glow afterwards and I’ve often seen new friendships, confidences and school communities formed. And – this is for the po-faced naysayers – I’ve had numerous teachers tell me that after doing slam poetry, their previously uninterested kids wanted to learn Keats, Plath and Coleridge. It’s a great way in.
So here’s my guide to getting teenagers enthused about poetry.

1. RELISH IN THE HATE!
Get them to write a shit-awful poem, a real stinker, a poem so bad Celine Dion wouldn’t even use it for lyrics. Discuss what makes a bad poem: clichés, terrible metaphors, stale similes and the obligatory use of the word ‘soul’. Have them stick a ‘thou’ in there too. This is actually hilarious fun and the kids will have a ball.

2. Poetry doesn’t have to rhyme, omg.

3. Then talk about what makes a good  poem.             
It’s surprising how much teenagers already know about this when they open up. They’ll mention elements such as details, senses, things that are unique to the writer and resonate with the reader, unique imagery and unexpected emotions. So, get them to write a good poem, referring to the list of what makes it good that they come up with. If you have time, give them a week to find a poem they like by someone else and bring it into class. Yep, show and tell (show and yell, if they’re keen).

3. Show them clips of exciting contemporary performance poets reading their work,                such as Taylor Mali, Sarah Kay, Luka Lesson, Omar Musa and Andrea Gibson. YouTube is chock full of them.  Let them know poetry doesn’t have to be always beautiful and affecting, it can be funny, ranty, angry, ridiculous and experimental. The American TV show Brave New Voices is a great resource, produced by HBO – a teen poetry competition jam-packed with passionate performances for inspiration.

4. Find a poem you like and read it to the class with enthusiasm and delight.                                  Enjoy it, relish it, have fun with the way words fall into senseless bundles, rhyming delights, quivering rhythms and goosebumpingly exciting meanings. That is, show ’em how it’s done, and how much you love it.

5. Get them to perform their work                                   . Maybe hold a slam and have them work in teams. Get them to make a film clip of each other’s work, create a buzz, invite their parents, make a big deal. It’s valuable, it’s exciting, it’s relevant, and it’s important.
http://goingdownswinging.org.au/site/how-to-get-teenagers-interested/

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