As noted in the image, this is one of the earliest recorded business complaints we have on record. You have to have a specialist's education to read it these days. For that matter most people who needed to utilize written records hired scribes in those days. Both reading and writing were a specialist's provenance. If you were a scribe, it was probably worth your life to get it right.
In January, 2014, I crafted and published the poem I reprise here, writing to the idea of a coming storm and using all the words in a device known as a Wordle. I reprise it because I very much like how smooth and unforced the poem is, even though it was constrained by twelve words not my own. If you must know, the whiner is a talking dog. I love it that the Aussies and Brits write and say, I suppose, whinger. I don't know about the Canadians.
"It's all so remote,"
you whined, paying the one price
you promised never
scenes that all haunt me.
I lie by the pool
in last year's litter and need,
all lifeless now,
as you nose the ground
snuffling peevishly at me
and the coming storm.
January 12, 2014 9:38 AM
The words I found in the Wordle in the order I used them are:
Some years ago my poetry took on a mythic flavor and I became a character in my own poems, a mage, "the man of the Northern Wall". This apellation is not completely fictional. My middle name is Noordwal, a Dutch term for north wall, though in current Dutch it mainly means north bank as in riverbank. I was told that an ancestor, a Portugese Jew escaping the Inquisition, settled in a small Dutch town and took this name from where he settled, near the north wall of the town. I have thought for a long time that -wal meant wall, think my mother told me that. A linguist might say that my usage is no longer common, is an older usage, but then the Inquisition happened in Portugal a few centuries ago, right around the time the Moors lost control of the Iberian Peninsula and the Jews lost the modest protection given them by Islam. Now I write as this mage, my poetry persona.