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Monday, 13 July 2026

Foreigner’s Language


I am writing a poem in English.

Which means
every other line
I stop.

Not because I've run out of ideas.

Because I've run out of language.

 

What rhymes with language?

Baggage.

Well...
that'll do.

I have plenty of that.

Physical.
Emotional.
50 years worth off.

Damage.

There's another one.

The damage I do
to English.

Or perhaps
the damage English does to me.

I keep writing.

I keep opening dictionaries


like they're a well for this thirsty foreigner.

Maybe I should stop at English instead.

What rhymes with English?

Childish.

My sense of humour,

As I translate my jokes
with an Arabic passport.

Extinguish.

Distinguish.

Is there a difference?

There must be.

I'd Google it.

Anguish.

Relinquish.

Finish.

See?

Even the rhymes
are trying to convince me
to give something up.


but I have much to say

I know lots of words.

Discombobulated.

Quintessential.

Oxymoron.

Ubiquitous.

Beautiful words.

Words that walk into a sentence
like they own the place.

I know exactly what they mean.

I just don't know if they are too big for my poems,

Can’t share a sentence with others

So I stick to smaller words.

The sort that don't mind
sharing same bed with many siblings
and my sentences come across complex with contradictory meanings and all over the place

Oxymoron, discombobulated.

 


 

Final step, let me cleanse the poem of all the Bees

You know;

B (P) for Better, not B for Brother?
I ask because I don't have a P in my language

Done:

I love English

But do not have the language

I know, it is childish

I am sorry for the damage

 

And if this poem sounds simple,

good.

That means
I stopped
trying to write
like an English poet

and started writing

like me.

 

 

Ahmad Baker

July 2026