Monday, April 16, 2018

Languages of Love

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I grew up in a tower of babel
The language that my mother spoke
Was not spoken in my father’s home
So they picked on a compromise
Speaking the language of their adopted land
To speak to us their children.

Yet in times of anger did both regress
To the language of their birth
My voluble mother engaging in soliloquies
In her native tongue
In such a hurry to speak
That her words tripped one another up

But do not think that it was only anger that
Sparked a flow of words that washed over us
In times of extreme love would they use
Terms of endearment from their native tongues
That embraced use, loved us, comforted us
And were the lullabies that serenaded us to sleep

That was how I grew up in a literal melting pot
Where words thrown and stirred in
Would season our conversations
Peppered and flavoured like a spicy mix
Of a word curry that was served steaming

A dish shared and partaken by the family

***
On to  'L' for 'Languages of Love'.

My challenge for April is to write poetry. 
My A to Z entries can be navigated to from this page - A2Z, I will be very pleased if you managed to take some time out to read and comments on the poems.

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2 comments :

  1. Different languages in differing situatons. A spicy dish indeed.

    A-Z of My Friend Rosey!

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    Replies
    1. That's right, the language changes are per the situation. Thanks for your comments Keith.

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