Polyglot

Hello. By anyone else's standards, I'm pretty crap at updating this "blog". But considering a) I've been busy rehearsing and performing and living a human life; and b) it's my blog and I'll do what i want with it I find it fairly easy to ignore other people's standards.
I have written a thing! It's already served its purpose in that she for whom it was intended was crying with happiness on a bus when she read it, But I thought you might like to read it too. I thought I would share it with you. It's called Polyglot, and it goes thusly:

Polyglot

Last night I dreamed I wrote a poem

Which contained the line

“When I speak Arabic I seem more English than ever.”

I imagine that would be true.

I mean, just fucking look at me.

(If you are reading this off the page,

Or otherwise can’t look at me

Picture a copy of the Encyclopaedia Britannica

Wearing a tweed jacket, you’ll get the general idea.)

So points for observation, Dream-Me; good job!

If I did I would, but I can’t so et cetera.

The linguist in me has always

Vaguely wanted to study

A tongue unrelated to my own.

You can’t deny it would be useful;

There would be another 230 million people worldwide

With whom I could make awkward small-talk at parties.

But I’m in no real hurry to learn.

I already perfectly understand the meaning

When she leans in close and whispers

“انا بحبك”,

I can see the truth of it shining in her eyes.

I’m already fluent in all the most important things.

One hopes you're well,
Yrs,
ADWoodward

PS. انا بحبك apparently transliterates as "inna bihabik" so you have an idea of how it sounds. I dunno, she never wrote it down in Latin script for me. Too busy being lovable and excellent

River Command

Hello. This is the first post up here for a while because of reasons. Also I kinda forgot my password, but mostly unspecified "reasons", 'cause that makes me seem all mysterious and poetic. I have written a thing! (Well quite a few things, since I last remembered a) I had b)how to access a blog. I'll chuck 'em on here as and when). Today's thing is maybe a bit weird, but I quite like it, so I thought I'd share it with you. It's called River Command, and goes thusly:

RIVER COMMAND

There is light on waves here,

Sourceless as nostalgia,

Unfocussed as eyes after far too many treatments.

There is something in the depths.

It is almost familiar,

I’m sure of it.

I remember...

Cake

Served on china plates with explanations of the world

Which were warm enough

I glowed even without the light of understanding.

I do not recall the details,

Except for his face,

Pinkish and nodding

As if reassuring the world

It was worthy of his attention

Simply by existing.

When an interested child

Asked questions

The rhythm of his laughter

Sounded like flowers on a windowsill,

Never opening quite when the gardening books said they should.

The present returns

Some mighty wind

Drives the sun above the horizon

And begins to wake the others.

They are offbeat and out of tune;

They didn’t see the key-change the dreaming river commanded.

I wander back through a crowd

Impersonal as tea in a plastic cup.

I move against the current

Never bumping into the others,

I’m just not there when they are.

I walk unhurried through the door.

There are flowers on the windowsill,

Pinkish and nodding.

I put the kettle on.

The world is so interesting.

Have some cake.

We’ll discuss it a while.

One hopes you're well,

yrs,

ADWoodward