Wodwo by Ted Hughes

I’m back at last! I missed my art blog so much!

For the first post here I really want to re-post Ted Hughes’ Wodwo. You can’t find it anywhere else on the web and it really saddens me deeply. It’s just such a lovely text. Especially for a tween like me who as the stereotype predicts is often wondering ‘who exactly am I?’.

What am I? Nosing here, turning leaves over
Following a faint stain on the air to the river’s edge
I enter water. What am I to split
The glassy grain of water looking upward I see the bed
Of the river above me upside down very clear
What am I doing here in mid-air? Why do I find
this frog so interesting as I inspect its most secret
interior and make it my own? Do these weeds
know me and name me to each other have they
seen me before, do I fit in their world? I seem
seperate from the ground and not rooted but dropped
out of nothing casually I’ve no threads
fastening me to anything I can go anywhere
I seem to have been given the freedom
of this place what am I then? And picking
bits of bark off this rotten stump gives me
no pleasure and it’s no use so why do I do it
me and doing that have coincided very queerly
But what shall I be called am I the first
have I an owner what shape am I what
shape am I am I huge if I go
to the end on this way past these trees and past these trees
till I get tired that’s touching one wall of me
for the moment if I sit still how everything
stops to watch me I suppose I am the exact centre
but there’s all this what is it roots
roots roots roots and here’s the water
again very queer but I’ll go on looking

Not only do I enjoy the great verbalization of the eternal tween doubt but also the line breaks which seem to carry you into another world. But a world that feels exactly like the dilemmas, insecurity and confusion (and even sometimes paranoia) you go through at a certain age. Ah, I think it’s one of the most delicious poems out there. But then again I’m biased, I’m quite close to worshipping Ted Hughes. What a terrible man, but what an amazing writer.