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Introspection Name Poems | Introspection Poems About Name

These Introspection Name poems are examples of Introspection poems about Name. These are the best examples of Introspection Name poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Free verse | |

These ribbons I tie as you leave

Blue – 
for your arm wrapped around
my clavicle. I thought
I would loose my breath.

Red – 
for the cusp of our hip bones
struggling to pull the drunken color
from our orange cheeks.
and our sweat, our sweat, our sweat
evaporating 
in the drenched summer air.
Our pants futile afterthoughts
Left crumpled on the floor
It is here I asked for your respect
And you filled me with it.


Orange – 
for the musk smell of our blanket den. I would watch the way dawn light
speckled your shoulders, pale, white-blue
Iridium. 
I would trace the ink
of your skin, fingertip hovering a half inch
from your bone. 

Green – 
for how my name would hesitate
on your breath in brief puffs 
like dandelion seeds blown from 
My wistful lips when I was 
eleven 
waiting for them to bring back my wish.

Black – 
for my sleeveless dress, as we strolled from 
your father’s funeral.  

It was the only time I watched you cry.

There were little holes in the cement sidewalk.
They filled with rain, oil
And your tears.
I watched your face change through 
their watery colored reflections.


Pink – 
for the way your skin repels from my 
Touch, quivers as though my finger- 
print were a red hot poker.
You haven’t allowed me to touch you
In a year.

Purple – 
for the color of her font, as she responds to you. It is an eager
Color. She responds with all the passion of an Eskimo kiss. 

You left her waitng..always.

I have been special to you,
she replies to your
overtures.

Her letters 
Who blush
like a maid
Who’s felt the hot moist
whisper of something naughty
tickle against her ear lobe.

White – 
for the way your eyes punch accusations
sharper then your razor tongue.

They spit 
blue crackled lightening,
like an angry alley cat.

My words cannot reach you here.
You will leave.

We will divide our booty

Words that once held my name like a piece
Of carefully folded origami
now hiss cold 
devoid like the plaster of our empty room.

Grey- 
for the morning 
now knocking on my window.

I am livid in my withdrawal, tossing and turning
I can find no comfort
in
the tangle of these vacant sheets. 




Details | Rhyme | |

Written In Stone Among The Flowers



I see your name there written in stone
Beside so many others to me faces unknown
Do you see me or am I alone
In this place where last respects are shown

Are you walking here among the flowers
Where we laid your earthly body to rest
Where souls are set free to join higher powers
Is this, the final journey of our life-quest?

I see the dates there written in stone
Your day of birth and of your last breath
Are we merely made of flesh and bone
Or does time continue for us after death

I see the words of endearment there written in stone
Do you Beloved Husband my voice hear
Are my words like dust in the four winds forever blown
Or can the words chiseled here comfort you my dear

When my name is there beside yours written in stone
All these answers to me will be finally known
I pray you and I walk here among the flowers
Our souls joined forever among higher powers

©Donna Jones


Details | Couplet | |

MAXIMUS

    

    There is a spirit that watches over you
    In the daylight hours, and nightime too.

    You may not think that they are there
     But there is a way to make you aware.

     I learned the name of my angel a long time ago
     Because I was interested and I wanted to know.

     His name is "Maximus" and is with me here
     To learn of his presence once made me fear.

     Because what you do is watched all the day
     The angel keeps tabs, God finds out that way.

     I guess you think I'm being naive
     Trust your faith, if you believe.

     If you want to know your angel's name
     There is a way to find out which is no game.

     Say a prayer for three days in a row
     And after each time ask him to reveal his name to you.

     If you believe in him he will tell you true
     If not, he may be silent to you.

     I know of others who have tried this I can say
     Some, have learned the names of their angels this way.

     When you pray for their name do not think it absurd
     Some, I know, will hear that singular word.

     It won't come as a shout from heaven on high
     But rather as a whisper, when your angel is nigh.

     These spiritual beings are here for us all
     Sometimes they wait just to here us call.

     And when you do wouldn't if be grand
     If you knew the spirit's name...who behind you stands!

     Try it and see if you think I'm fooling around
     Be honest with yourself with both feet on the ground.

     As someday that spiritual angel you will greet
     Wouldn't it be nice to be on a "first name" basis when you meet?

     And if you try but do not hear their name
     Keep on trying because your conviction was lame.

     I know many will think I'm crazy with this
     But knowing my angel's name has brought comfort and bliss.

     So try it yourself and see if in kind
     If your angel will speak to you...they really don't mind.

     Because then a dialogue with them you can share,
     Even if they never speak again,  you'll know...they're there.


Details | Haiku | |

The Internet: Return

A void of Facebook
Creativity dies here...
Procrastination!


Details | I do not know? | |

WHO AM I BY NAME ALONE

written 10th Aug 2013



I am God's child, first and forever
I am known by many different titles, a daughter
I am a wife
I am a mother
I am a grandmother
I am a poet
I am by several ways, known as a sister
I am an acquaintance
I am a loyal friend
I am a stranger
I am a cousin
I am an Auntie
I am a niece
But who is this person, they all call "Denise?"

She is a child to God
She is a niece
She is a cousin
She is a stranger
She is a loyal friend
She is an acquaintance
She is known to many, a sister
She is a poet
She is a grandmother
She is a mother
She is a wife
She is known as a daughter to many
She is everything, she'd ever dreamed her life to be....
She is happier than she ever imagined possible
SHE IS "DENISE"


Details | Villanelle | |

What was His Name

Pondering past loves in the dim light of age,
the memories float upward, smiles engage sounds.
Ah, what was his name that handsome man from the stage?

Blindfolded, he lifted me and reality disengaged.
The sound of the harmonica swept all around.
Pondering past loves in the dim light of age.

A serenade planned, the empty ice-rink re-staged,
I was placed in the sweet spot, I drowned in the sound.  
Ah, what was his name that handsome man from the stage?

Once unmasked, I tumbled to his arms, my eyes glazed  
like Ophelia sinking on love's waves to drown.
Pondering past loves in the dim light of age.

Oh, the places he took me, my senses ablaze
in sunlight, in moonlight, in starlight, un-gowned. 
Pondering past loves in the dim light of age.
Ah, what was his name that handsome man from the stage?

 


Details | Rhyme | |

My Book of Poems

A book of poems
with my name on it
is my ambition, someday.
A book of poems
with my name on it,
with something, inside, to say.
Not a big book, not thick, not mushy --
not that kind of book for me.
My book must be lean, must be spare --
though pithy and strong --
and stand free.
A small book of poems
with my name on it:
all that I need
to leave here of me.


Details | Bio | |

I Am Poetry

I stand solo, aloof in the snow, a precipitation 
                     of words cascading from a nebulous eye 
Fathoms wide, forever dripping like wax onto 
                     a punctured paper serving a Sanskrit sky,

and spreading into sibilant sentences swiftly 
                     sliding from syllable sorcery to soulful serenades 
so silent in the shunting shout of white. Poetry 
                     fills a churning void where novels cannot wade,

Phrases solidifying into idolisation of emotion 
                     itself, isolation of the isometric individuality that so 
Crushes my keeling cavern of thought, ever 
                     careering from caustic career path to another new low,

Which so seems to crumble into crazy paving’s 
                    counterpart. In this first freeze-frame we can all grasp
A fraction of the familiar, oh so fractured by the 
                    fumbling nature of enforced form. Freed by the gasp 

Of a photo-opportunity glowing phosphorescent 
                    with firsts, I am no longer framed by the festering 
Constraints of non-fiction, and folding my fond 
                    farewells carefully, I hesitantly face a vision pestering 

Me, fearing the fiend that would open maw and 
                    gnaw beneath my feet, evoking an avalanche of the 
Vernacular, but I am further past this unfed 
                    existence now, loosened from the fickle friendship of a

Winter thaw. Focus not your gaze on the grinding 
                    gauze of the greats, for the pressing pestilence of 
Perishable poetry is elsewhere pondering its parallels 
                    in posturing and post-modern pining for forlorn love. 


Praise no other; I am poetry.


Details | Acrostic | |

A poem of myself

My instinct comes heedlessly and ever leadless
Dances over memory


Details | Free verse | |

wanna come thank me for getting bin laden shot america

or do you want to tell the person whose first name is sang by sinead o connor
middle name is sang by fred durst
and last name is mentioned by fred durst


do you want to tell me, the person you just spent 13 years mad at
singing and dancing to my misfortune
and rubbing your happiness in my face as you exclude me from sex

do you want to tell that person whose name you plastered all over your war
that he had nothing to do with surviving it
do you want to tell that man
Troy Jeremy Nelson
who just lost everything 17 times
to start over
that he was not your allie
in whatever that was?

let me put your name alll over a war
and then wait for your enemy to show up
and ask you
what does that guy got that i don't?


everything now
you murdered my grandpa
you murdered my friends
you murdered my sex life

and you sang and danced to my misfortune to the tune of your lies
pretending i was your friend called an alibi
you didnt bother to even try to keep alive

do you want to come telll
me
Troy Jeremy Nelson
that your country just did that too
that thats not what happened?

Im not sure how long your going to live that lie
the thousands of people concerned and involved in that persons endless
and i mean endless nightmare
might just come tell you what has been making them cry.....

Happy Halloween tho
FALSE PROPHET

oh and p.s.
next time you put somebody else in the middle of your war
to play the victom of that person's nightmare
you caused
take notes to pass into the future
as to what is about to occur
to you
may be a life lesson
to history

Thank you for not caring (sarcasm)
thank you for not answering my letters (sarcasm)
thanks for going the wrong way, in the wrong direction, to do the wrong thing
that whole time i kept pointing out a drug ring blackmarket, you people didnt care 
about (sarcasm)

thanks for calling me a liar as to what has taken place in my life(sarcasm)

so whenever you are free to hand me a bunch of things with your smiling face, and 
names all over them
to make me feel better for the way you treated me
singing and dancing to the sound of getting away with murder
for the miracles youve stolen

my big brother doesn't like to dance around and play house, pretending to be 
someone hes not
in a singing competition, racing against his sense of fear
do you want to come tell the man just tortured by malpractice
with his name on your war in your music,
he had nothing to do with winning it?


Details | Quatrain | |

Decisions

Lord, I do not know what to do;
Please, lead me by Your side.
Decisions I'm facing are lost and through;
Please, lead me to do what's right.


Details | I do not know? | |

The Nameless - for South Africans of all colours who fought for freedom


The Nameless


Slipping through the sieve of history,

the nameless rest.

Not for the nameless are roads renamed, nor monuments built.

Not for the nameless are songs sung, nor ink spilled.

The nameless rest.

Their silent sacrifice,

quiet ordeal,

muted trauma,

remain interred,

amongst their remains.

The nameless rest.

Not for the nameless are doctorates conferred, nor eulogies recited.

Not for the nameless are honours bestowed, nor homages directed.

The nameless rest.

They rest within us,

they walk with us,

in every step that we tread.

They rest within us,

they walk with us,

for their spirit is not dead.


“Your name is unknown, your deed is immortal”
- inscription at The Tomb of the Unknown Soldier WWII in Moscow


Special thanks to my dearest elder sister Tasneem Nobandla Moolla, whose conversations with me about life as a non-white person growing up in pre and post-Apartheid South Africa prompted me to write this dedication to the countless, nameless South Africans of every colour, whose sacrifices and dedication in the struggle against Apartheid tyranny must never be forgotten.


My sister’s middle name ‘Nobandla’ which is an isiXhosa name and means “she who is of the people” was given by her godfather, Nelson Mandela, my father’s ‘best-man who could not be, as Nelson Mandela was unable to-make it to my parent’s wedding as he was in jail at the time in the old Johannesburg Fort. This was the 31st December 1961.


Details | Verse | |

Inevitable Bear

Oh lonely Inevitable Bear,
Padding claws, death in white
Sorrow in recurring nightmare
Instinct’s test; fight or flight?

Camouflage against the fence,
A challenge; my subconscious fear
Ominous slowly moving silence,
“Let me in, there’s a bear out here!”


Details | Couplet | |

His Truth and the Light

Truth and Light can still make this country really thrive;
even if it seems like the spirit of this country died.

Don't give up fighting, prosperity is still here.
In His Name we have to stand, and in His name there's no fear!


Details | Sonnet | |

Generation XXX

Generation XXX
(Another Name for Gen Y(My Generation)

Beer goggles and Whiskey Rivers,
Pain numbing remedies that exude depression,
Marijuana oxygen and pain killer shivers,
Innocent faces with devilish expression,
Blood red eyes with cocaine explanations,
White lies, cooked up in haste, 
For the aforementioned, sell your feelings for a taste!

Young lady, young lady, impossible to find,
What has become of “Daddy’s Little Girl?”
Grew up as billboard, all body and no mind,
Succumbed to degradation just to fit in this world,
Princess? No More!
With bitter wounds and sans support,
Responds to “bxxch” labeled as “whore”
Sex for poison and sex for sport!

Young man, young man, could you bear to walk alone?
With choreographed legs and clay molded spine?
Quoting the majority, speaking with your friends’ tone,
Holding onto shirttails while blindly disregarding lines,
Unprotected sex just to help you feel alive,
Forced to buy diapers with the pennies you have earned,
From one into intoxicated night you did not want to be deprived,
Came a baby by a girl whose name you had to learn!

Young lady, Young man, both working like a slave,
To provide for a family that neither wished to know,
They scream as their dreams get sealed within a grave,
Essential sacrifices because the baby has to grow,
A self-destructive generation, corrupted and vexed,
Generation Y, is Generation XXX


Details | Free verse | |

Heathers Spans

The heathers spans the great Isles
Homeland to many souls 
Souls whose offsprings on the tides rolled

These souls who hath spareness
Spareness which sharpens haste
To harnesses path across the great waters

Seraphs thens protected their path
To a new land to live life but differently

Anagrams:
Heathers spans
Hath sparenesses
Sharpens haste
Harnesses path
Seraphs thens 

These are anagrams for the name that I was born with 
given to me by my biological parents..When my mother died
and I was adopted at 18 months, my last name was 
changed....The name on my first birth certificate was:Sarah
Stephens


Details | Rhyme | |

Whiskey Christmas

It was Christmas Eve; I was a prisoner of my own divide.
Lost in mind, clad in drunken sadness, caged up inside.
Alone and forlorn my thoughts laden with whiskey lies,
Memories seem so distant, only a week since goodbyes.
Christmas tree glistening, blurry in my vision of tears,
Flashing lights bright, neighbors Christmas party cheers.
No presents or joy in this household upon this night.
Sorrows, misguided gulps of liquor, cloud my sight.
Heartbroken, gloomy devouring the demon filled drink.
No more, no less, my eyes roamed over as I did think.
Hopelessly lost in a whirlwind of memories of no more,
No more, love by a lover, no daughter to teach the score.
Left me in a house, no longer our home that we shared,
Only I and this half-empty bottle, feeling impaired.
She left me, taking my child a thousand miles away.
While here in this house of torture, me and myself stay.
Every corner a recollection blinks by crystalline light.
Splintered and speckled by the twinkling star so bright.
Atop the now barren tree which had shined with joys.
Years before cluttered with wrappers, boxes and toys 
I slam a big gulp down my throat, since this was my first.
Night of my debut to the evil of whiskey blinding thirst,
Never before had drunkenness been a quest or even a try,
This night she devoured my soul, not wanting ever to cry.
Intoxication was a desire, though not ever beyond joy.
My virgin body of drink has choked me unable to deploy.
Sour mash tears wash down my face, wiping my eyes.
I hear my built up agony; pour out in inhuman cries.

User Name  Cecil Hickman

Sponsor Constance La France ~ A Rambling Poet ~ 
Contest Name Your "Saddest" Christmas Ever 


Details | Pastoral | |

Foot Soldier For The Lord


Hardened by indecision
True conviction's at odd
Recompense beyond belief
Some-time's it get's 
Pretty hard 
To play the part
      ------
From death do us part
From the truth until the
Dawn morning early light
In the heat of the night
We wrangle with the Devil
To win the fight
      ------
Treed by disease
With pain and strief
We vowel to move on
Fore we are vested
For this very life
Fore they killed our
First born
Our only Son
His name was Christ
For this ye must pay 
The price.....
      ------
We travel there where thou'
     Art not travel
Where evil may be
As wide as the mountain
But, as deep as the sea
      ------
Thee repave's of tragedy
Our Legion's are many
Heveanly hath no furry
Well, we have got plenty
      ------
We must submit to the Will
The Will to be free
That thou shall be done
On Earth for eternalty
      ------
Our legion's are one
To the commitment of
His new kingdom of one
Proclaimed to be
Under the jurisdiction
Of the Lord and His Holy Son
      ------
Till the brink of eternity
In the name of the Lord
And the Holy One
Till such that day
That the Kingdom has come
In the name of the Father
           Son
And the Holy Ghost
AMEN

              GF

***Note:******

The Lord  beseech you too....meet you at the Rapture...let it define you...


Details | Rhyme | |

Frailty Thy Name Is

Frailty, thy name is oft mistaken 
By those who seek triumph over weak 
Burning with hatred's lone desire
To conquer the very mild and meek 

Yet Frailty knows strength resides inside 
Falling in tears from eyes filled with pain
In suffering, strength does truly lie 
From this strength, Frailty derives its name

One must carry the burdens of life 
Bearing painful scars upon one's soul
For to feel the pain of your brother 
Instills the strength of both young and old

Knowledge gained through the harshest of times 
Provides the deep well from which to draw
Lending the stiff fortitude needed 
From Frailty's hidden depths, strength will claw

Tis true that Frailty is redemption
To feel, is what heart was meant to do
Without Frailty, heaven disappears
And Hell-fires, will only burn for you 

Frailty, thy name is oft mistaken 
By men blinded by the strength inside
Claiming their superiority
Seeing not past their own weak divide






Details | Free verse | |

Dickhead

“Dickhead”

There is a saddened kind of shame
a name that’s cruel and thus demeans, 
elementary obscene
a child can not reach deep enough.

It started when I read above 
my third grade level reading group
and followed to my brownie troop
then fearful fighting, flight to home.

And in defense I’d use my gift
to make up names and write mean songs-
I’d teach the boys to sing along
and charge their chocolate milk money.

With my moustache a poor disguise, 
with puffy, rubbing, teary eyes
I made myself apologize
though only choking squeaks were heard. 

Nicoleslaw Dickhead was my name
a name that’s cruel and thus demeans,
slimy side-dish dung for brains-
a child can not reach deep enough.


Details | Dramatic monologue | |

WOE Is The Children



      ------

From the beginning and
For the end
In the name of the
Lord and Our Savior
Where dose it end
      ----
Their are such things'
They limit our behavior
No one is free
     ------
There is this menace
They call ' ADHD '
It could happen to you
It could happen to me
      ------
Fore it is a Menace
      ------
       - In -
The name of the Lord
And God is with Thee
      ----
But, this thing can be attributed
To you
It could be attributed to me
It is only a matter of time
Then We shall see....
      ------
But, now their is a
New Human Condition
That should matter to
You and me
They call it " ADHD "
      ------
They call it " ADHD '
That is what they say//
It affect our children
All that We can do is pray
     ------
And to Thee
I say, AMEN
      ------
INTRUSIVE
BOUNDRIES
TEMPERTANTRUM
DEFIANT
CONTEMPT
ANGRY
SCREAMING
VIOLENANCE
SELF-CONSUMING
SELF-DESTRUCTIVE
    ------
Just to name a few
    ------
If you have any of these
Then you will have
ADHD TOO.....
      ------
What do We assume
We do so many of these
If you sleep with DOG's
Then you wil wake up'
     With fleas'
But, We don't seem
To have that disease
     ------
So, think of the Children
Give them some room
Fore they watch us every-day
Then they go out to play
Say, If they were to IMULATE
Us, Then they woud have
' ADHD ' any way.....

               GF


Details | Personification | |

I HAD A DREAM

I am looking for dream interpreters.
My name is Goodluck
Don’t swear yet please, don’t “****”
I am no president or “less”
Neither am I clueless
Parents christened me Goodluck
So if there be name sake as me
Well, that is bad luck

Like I said,
I am looking for dream interpreters.
I had a dream last night
I saw ancestors.
Breathing fire like dynamite
Asked me if I am insensitive
Or just clueless
Out of respect for ancestors, I asked them
‘Insensitive to or in what?’
“Insensitive to or in what???”
Was their angered response
“Even in this, you are still clueless”?
Their lead speaker asked

“Okay, fine! Mr. clueless” he continued
Under your watchful eyes
The plane you are saddled with,
Cries out for a pilot
For the auto-pilot can’t land it
And you are a clueless pilot
The ship you are saddled with
Cries out for a captain
For you have broken the compass
And an inevitable sink might come to pass”.

“Mr. clueless” he continued again
The streets of Jos,
Blood has become a river.
Have you seen the butchered women…
Pregnant
Have you seen the opened bowels…
Slain infants.
Religious insurgencies on the instant
United Nations office and police headquarters
All crashed landed with a bang…bomb

Churches are smashed, even mosques
The blood rivers of Jos has flowed beyond us
Now, it’s a national flood above us
Yet your greed is on the oil well
You have weakness for debt accumulation

SUBSIDY!
Your greatest height of insensitivity
What happened to profits of yester years?
Same old promise of good roads,
Good education, a better tomorrow
Yet, forty billion, a former house of reps
Single handedly stole it.
Are you leeches never ever tired of loots?
Or fear of insurgence of the deprived youths?

The people raped by empty promises of bandits
If you are in all these things clueless
Then our dreams for the country is hopeless
All leaders before you
Have creatively out done you
Hate has come to the surface
And you have lost your grace”.

Then from the dream, I woke up!
Somebody help!!!
I need dream interpreters.

THIS POEM IS FOR THE NIGERIA PRESIDENT WHO CAN’T FEEL THE NEED OF THE NIGERIA PEOPLE


Details | Free verse | |

Tears of My Heart

if poop could be named anything what would you name it?  id name it bob and id make him sit on a log in a bog and say get out of here you hog that looks like fog from a bog thats near a log with bob sitting on it who attacked the wacking wackers with all his heart and shattered, he fell to the floor.  dont name your poop bob because then youll have tears in your heart.


Details | Free verse | |

The girl with a curl

Her name is Mary
not Virgin Mary
or the girl with the dragon tattoo
it's Mary
the girl with a curl
when she is good
she is too good
when she is bad
she is too bad
in her teen years
she dated Wild Bill
and tried almost everything
jail
drugs
and orgies
but in her twenties
she married the other Bill
the guy from the hedge fund
who smells CK and wears
only Armani suits
and now she lives in a mansion
in suburbs
and has two beautiful kids

Her name is Mary
The girl with a curl
when she is bad
she is too bad
when she is good 
she looks like a saint...


Details | Couplet | |

Joy to the World

Joy to the world is a precise name 
For this poet named Joy of little known fame
For joyful I am with the Lord as my guide
With a Christian heart and a smile a mile wide
I sing His praises, confess his name
Worship the One who is without blame
So “Joy to the world, the Lord is come”*
Songs about His birth really make me hum
This is one side of me that you might see
But another exists, if you will permit me

“Singing joy to the world, to all the boys and girls
Joy to the fishes in the deep blue sea, joy to you and me”**
Jeremiah, the bullfrog inspired me to collect a few
Frogs of green and one that was big and bright blue
Now many years later and many frogs, too
The funny side of me comes shining through
I love to laugh and try to bring pleasure
To enjoy this life and to give without measure
To honor the name my blessed parents gave
To have lots of fun, but still try to behave
Life is to live and to love, this is true
So put a little joy to the world in your life, won’t you

*(Music from Handel, words from Isaac Watts, 1719)
**(Three Dog Night 1971~words and music by Hoyt Axton) 


Details | Enclosed Rhyme | |

Cecil-- Whats in a Name

I was named after my grandfather on maternal side.
Cecil is my name, though at first I hated it so.
Teased I was, when I was younger, you need to know.
A cartoon there was, Beanie and Cecil show, I confide.

Few may remember though many will never forget.
Cecil was a sea sick sea serpent, which swam so fast.
Always helping Beanie, get out of trouble till the last,
“Help me Cecil” would be his cry, on every television set.

Cecil has always been a misleading name, to many who heard.
Thinking they did, I was a female, then surprised next.
This never hurt me, even happens, when they read my text.
Even now, when some read this verse, may say, “oh my word”,

Cecil also supposed to mean, “Blind” not sure of this meaning.
There is not much more to say, about my first name you see.
Though now that I am older, I do not dislike it, I am just me.
When people make fun of my name, I don’t find it demeaning.

I am even really proud of it, since there are not many with my name.
Though I have run into one or two, in many different places,
I even find it fun, to see expressions, on some of their faces.
They seem happy, as I am to hear, another person called the same



written for
Sponsor Linda-Marie The Sweetheart of P.S. 
Contest Name "WHAT'S IN A NAME?" 


Details | Dramatic monologue | |

Boxes

Some folks live in a box
a box of their own making
get comfortable there like the old woman in a shoe.
Boxes can be great protection
from the weather, from strange things
an occurrences but life was not meant to be lived
in a small box … man was given the world.

Some folks swear, they know the name of God.
[In olden times, no mere human would think …
of uttering the name of God > even if they did know it.]
And yet.. now a days [At least since men, gathered and sorted
picked and pared the writing of the ancients..]
men have gone out shouting the name of Jesus
[Letting Him out-of- the-box … so to speak,
the box of man’s mind and heart.]

Now God [The one with the capital G] 
never did like being called…
So be very, very, careful
when you let Jesus out of the box
that you don’t put your words in His mouth.
I’d say Jesus has been out of the box
since the stone rolled away from the crypt 
[Lucky for some of us, unlucky for others.]


Details | Free verse | |

I Am Me

I Am Me

During my life I have had so many names
Each one unique and yet the same
My personality changed with each name
I do not know there were so many changes
Maybe it was an after effect of maturing?
Maybe the old me was tired and worn from life
I know that I was born again when I changed
A new name brought new challenges
Every name was something that I was
It was me being the best that I could be
With all the time before me and all the time behind me
I know now that the changes were not from a name
The changes came from within my mind and my soul
In the end I am me and that is who I will always be.


Details | Free verse | |

Neither saints nor sinners

His name is Robert
We call him Bob
He drinks
He smokes
On Friday
Dresses like Red Sox
On Saturday
Like Patriots
On Sunday night
He watches porn
On Monday morning
He misses work 
On Tuesday
Works sixteen hours
The same program
Until Friday
When He dresses like
Red Sox
And the next day
Like Patriots

His name is Bob
And so what
Names are overrated anyway
He's neither sinner
Nor a saint
Living a life
Day to day
That never starts
And never ends...



Details | Narrative | |

A Different Perspective

Spencer just turned 7 the other day.

My wife and I adopted Spencer after many years of trying to add to our family the 
old fashioned way; then, after a few years of trying to add to our family the 
newfangled, medically assisted way.

My three biological children from a previous marriage lived with us from the time 
they were 12, 10 and 6.  By the time we got around to going the adoption route the 
two oldest were already in and out of college and the youngest was a senior in high 
school.  No empty nest for us, just a fast train to insanity.

I started my family, a story for another time, when I was just twenty-one.  After 
being the youngest father of most of their peers, I was now going to get to 
experience being the oldest father this time around.

People say that as an older parent you are more patient and understanding – I am 
not so sure that I agree; I just think fewer things bother you and you learn to 
realize that rules are not so important.  Many times, I think, as parents, we simply 
enforce rules because we can.

Spencer loves to dip his foods. He dips his mandarin orange slices in ketchup.  He 
dips his French fries in caramel meant for apple slices.  He dips his cheese in his 
yogurt.  Basically, whatever we serve him, if it’s a solid, of any kind, it gets dipped in 
the soft, liquidy food that happens to be closest to him.

Years ago, I probably would have not only tried to convince him that this was 
wrong, but I am pretty sure I would have forbidden him to do that.  Now?  What do 
I care?  If he likes it and he eats his broccoli, what do I care that he dips it in his 
pudding?

A few years ago, Spencer and I went on a father son excursion to buy him his first 
gold fish.  I asked Spencer what he was going to name his fish and, after thinking 
about it for a while, he said, “I think I want to name him, Mmmgggghh.”  

I immediately responded, almost as a reflex action, “Mmmggghh?  That’s not a 
name, that’s a sound.”

Spencer, in his wonderfully innocent way, asked, “Why can’t a name be a sound?”

Why, indeed?  

He loved Mmmggghh and loves telling people the story about his first pet.

Now some of you may read this and think I am being too relaxed in my duties as a 
father.  You may think that I should be teaching my son the “correct” way to do 
things – even as simple as how to eat and what not to mix or dip in what.

Me?  Nah.  Instead, I wish to thank Spencer for teaching me to question the norms.  
Why can’t a name be a sound?