Do things exist only when they’re named?
If no-one had named Death would we be immortal?
Would there be no boundary between
joy and suffering if they had no names?
If we didn’t name our children
would they invent themselves with a name:
rolling slow consonants, long open vowels
or narrow tight-lipped grunts, plosives:
© Janice Windle
Today's poem is inspired by a great prompt by a fellow writer and artist, Andrea Robinson. (her website is here: http://opennotebooks.co.uk/category/andrea-robinson/ ) Referring to an article about Chimanmanda Ngozi Adichie's book Americanah, Andrea quoted: 'Do things begin to exist only when they are named?'. This struck me as a wonderful idea for a poem. I wrote this: