Submit Your Poems
Get Your Premium Membership

Best Name Poems

Below are the all-time best Name poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of Name poems written by PoetrySoup members

Search for Name poems, articles about Name poems, poetry blogs, or anything else Name poem related using the PoetrySoup search engine at the top of the page.

Definition & Discussion of Name Poems
Read Name Poems

See also: Best Famous Poems

New Name Poems

Don't stop! The most popular and best Name poems are below this new poems list.

My Name Ain't Stan by Ellison, Jack
What's In A Name by williams, john
My Name Is Simply Orpheus by Johnston, Brian
By Any Other Name by Motyl, Amy
Little Dove by Carey, Ninette
LOVE HAS NO CORLOR NO NAME by curtis futch jr, kurtis scott aka
hark, the beach is calling my name by King, Marty
happiness is here in the name of the Lord by King, Marty
My Name Is Jarah by Rose, Mystic
Page 26 by De Poet, Bryan

View all new Name Poems

The Best Name Poems

Details | Name Poem | |

My Cat

I love my cat.

She has 4 legs 

and a tail 

and nice ears 

and a cute little nose.

She is gray with black stripes.

Her eyes are kinda green

kinda yellow.

I don't know what colour this is?

Her name is Bast.

This is the name of a very pretty cat goddess

who lives where the pyramids grew.

When my cat is happy she purrs.

So do I.

My cat is soft and warm.

My cat likes to eat food.

Right now I am feeding her special food for young cats.

She likes this better than the last stuff.

She eats all day long.

I do too.

If I become fat

or she becomes fat

I will cut down on our food.

My cat also likes to drink water.

So do I.

I got rid of her cat bowls.

Now she uses the same bowls I do.

I think this makes her feel extra special.

When my cat wants to play outside

she meows and scratches at the door.

This is how I know if she wants to play outside.

My cat poops in the neighbour's yard

so I don't have to clean her litter box too much.

I love my cat.

If I was a cat I would marry her.

We could have a honeymoon in the park.

I would dance around

and watch her climb trees.

At night my cat sleeps on top of me.

If she moves around too much

she wakes me up.

This makes me mad.

But she doesn't care.

She just looks at me.

And looks at me.

Then waits for me to fall back asleep

so she can sleep on top of me some more.

But I still love my cat.

Very much.

Even if she makes me mad sometimes.

But only now and then.

She creates far more happiness than anger.

I suppose this is how it is for some married couples?

Cats are great.

I wish more people had a cat like mine

because then everyone else would be happy just like me.

One great big happy world

filled with peaceful thoughts instead of so much pain and war.

I hope she lives a long time.

When she dies I will get another cat

because they are so nice.

And when I die 

I will meet all of my cats

up in heaven.

I love my cat.

And she loves me.

More great poems below...


Details | Name Poem | |

WARNING - CERTAIN POETS MAY WISH TO CHANGE THEIR NAME

Well guys I’m going to tell you a secret
You don’t really know me
I have not been honest 
I am not who I say I am
Yesterday I discovered the real me…
I’m a ninja – yes honestly I’m a ninja
I have proof from www.anagrammer.com
Ninja Salol …………………….…..Jan Allison

So I thought I’d have fun with a few names here
Hope no one is offended.. but they are quite amusing!

Casual Pull …………………...... …… Paul Callus 
Diarrhetic Ande ….…………….Andrea Dietrich
Archaean Cans …………… …….Casarah Nance 
Ard Man ………………………….......……. Armand 
Hmm is Tit  ……………………....…….Tim Smith 
Savour Hart ……………………...…. Arthur Vaso 
ill can Jokes ……………………....….Jack Ellison 
Hencoop Arse ………….….….…..Shane Cooper
Horny Rash Ram ……….………Harry Horsman
Lycra Nim ………………….…......……. Lyric Man
Go Mercurial Ire …………….….Maurice Rigoler
Peer over………………………......….….Eve Roper
Ramshackle Cure……………. Earl Schumacker
Salutes Sir…………………………....….Lei Strauss
Mercy Tis So ………….……....………Mystic Rose
Can Hear Microchip………Charmaine Chircop
Upgrade Gent…………………….….Peter Duggan
Warrants Done……………..….. Darren Watson
Sit Leprechaun................... Paul Schneiter



9th February 2015

Details | Name Poem | |

Person of Colour

Person of colour is coherently germane,
He is never insane.

Some things about this person of colour may seem strange,
He is simple and he is yet to engage.

This person of colour loves the critics,
It is from them, he ticks.

This person of colour is natural,
And so, he is not a trial.

This person of colour loves to exchange
Ideas beyond his range.

This person of colour loves keyboard,
Tis with this he comes on board.

This person of colour is a charcoal- a black beauty.
This person of colour is me.

Details | Name Poem | |

Arikara Born

I like many others have lived in our dreams In this world where I lived amongst forests and streams Where the Great Plains stretched and our rivers flowed If you could see through my eyes, how my tribe glowed Born from my mother of Arikara descent My father a Sioux warrior, his stature, augment My growing up was no different than the others around For the learnings that grew from our ancestors surround Hunting and fishing, being told of the dangers in life Cultural indifferences, to fearing tribal strife But it's what my father taught me every single day To learn from our lands for through the years they'd display Tracking, seeking, searching, living from our lands Every year more learned, growing in understand From a boy to a man becoming a warrior through my years Protecting what was ours, allaying modern fears But the changes that we faced, suffocated our souls There was only ever one outcome, other man's goals I like many others, to live and eventually fall Born from Arikara, Sioux, my name was 'Standing Tall' .<*>. A little story from my heart, where the Indigenous will always be.

Details | Name Poem | |

Raven's Sign

Fog settles on the tombstones. In the dark, an eerie blue,
the graveyard is a misty ocean Raven passes through.

She stops. The solitary site is grim, devoid of sound.
Her long black gown, a ruffled slip, is satin sweeping ground.

Her sable locks lie smooth and straight across her graceful back.
Stark contrast is her alabaster skin to hair pitch-black.

This woman - with a beauty that forever captivates -
now stands, a pistol in her hand, and there steadfastly waits.

Since told the man that she adores (who left some time ago)
lies buried here, the woman’s come, for Raven has to know!

She can’t believe that he could be here in this place of doom.
He’d left for war before they’d barely been a bride and groom.

As Raven looks out on the sea of mist, her eyes have teared
because those birds that bear her name have suddenly appeared.

A sign it has to be, she thinks. The ravens drawing near
are circling above one stone. Her heart is seized with fear.

Now Raven walks to where the birds are circling above.
She pales. . . The stone she’s reading bears the name of her true love.

The fog, a sea engulfing all, has swallowed Raven too.
Gun raised, she drops down to his grave; she knows what she must do.


First posted 1/15/2011 
Now revised for the Contest of Giorgio A.V: Structured Forms -Iambic Verse:
Recite and Analyze a fictional event - 32 lines max. Top Gun poetry.

This is done with rhyming couplets using Iambic Heptameter


More great poems below...


Details | Name Poem | |

Andrea Dietrich

Her words flow like glorious music 
In perfect time.
Her sonnets gift us with special words
In lovely rhyme.
A lady with the kind of style that 
Epitomizes the beauty and grace
With the countenance of
A glowing poet’s face.
Brilliant words filled with imagery and emotion
Her poetry cannot help but inspire
Other growing poets with
A yearning desire.
Andrea is always right there
As she sets the best example of poetry
With outstanding grammar,
She teaches endlessly.
Andrea is my finest friend and confidant.
We who are blessed to read her poetry
Are enlightened by her symbiotic words
In perfect harmony.

© Connie Marcum Wong

Tribute poem for Richard Lamoureux's Contest

Details | Name Poem | |

Love and Lust

I did not mean to snatch your heart
Like with the claw of a vorocious bird of pray
You fell into my unset trap 
Speared yourself upon my harpoon 
Which had only been hanging on the wall
You threw yourself into my way
stole my arrows and brandishing them with cupids blood
Punctured your heart without a thought 
Other than the whisper of my name 
You claim that I'm a siren
I've led you to your death
But it was the birds i sang to 
Your name did not leave my unforgiving lips 
With swollen eyes from crying
Filled with swirling colors of obsession 
You beg to me and plead with me 
Blaming me and cursing me  
Claiming that i drug you here
Forgetting it was you who snuck in through my balcony 
To watch me in the fountains 
And listen to my voice
To see how the animals follow me
And witness how the moon becomes my robes 
And the stars become my eyes
How the setting sun remains all night 
Within the silk of my hair 
how roses color my cheeks 
In the darkness of the cold 
And the world surrounds me 
And the beauty of the light i behold 
Where in this story did i bewitch you 
Where did i make you call my name 
Did i once respond or invite you to play a game
you claim i did this to you 
When you only did it to yourself 
did you enjoy your gaze upon the child of Cerynian
Did you think I'd become your obediant wife 
When did i claim i loved you 
How quickly you think of these blasphemous lies 
Your not in love you simpleminded mortal
Your infatuated and in lust and your lust is a lie

Details | Name Poem | |

Yes Friend, It Will Matter

Say not to me, that it will not matter a hundred years from now, that I was here. For surely I have touched one life in a positive way, perhaps in daily prayer I've called your name one day. Having no profound accomplishments or delusions of fame, and leaving no progeny to perpetuate my name, still, it will matter that I was here. For I have quietly endeavored to sow, and I have watered. I love and am loved--should one desire more? Life is good and hopefully God is pleased. The tracks I'll leave, it's true, will not be so ingrained as to stand harsh winds of time and they shall fade as the evening sun, leaving somewhere, only a name and date chiseled in granite. Perhaps, if only in thought, one pausing o'er me should question, who was this man? Let God simply whisper, that I am His.

Details | Name Poem | |

The Tale of Miss Jenny Prime

Let me tell you the story of Miss Jenny Prime,
who spent all of her days making everything rhyme.
It was thought she’d outgrow this strange childhood spell,
but her fetish just grew and made her parents’ life hell.

When Miss Prime was a baby, still sporting a bib,
each night she was cuddled, then placed in a crib
by her doting young parents, who thought it quite funny
to give her a pet name, “Sleep tight Hunny Bunny.”

And that was the start of poor Jenny’s plight,
forced to listen to vowel chimes night after night.
Before long she was making up rhymes for herself,
all her un-rhyming toys were just left on the shelf.

Even quenching her thirst could cause quite a stink,
no O.J for Jenny, her drink had to be pink.
They bought her some shoes, red, shiny and new,
“I’ve told you, I’m not wearing a shoe that’s not blue”

She demanded a dog so they went to the pound,
she picked the fattest one there, just to have a round hound.
Her bed had to be red, her jeans had to be green,
and a fish dish for dinner or she’d cause a right scene.

Stamping her feet she cried “I should be Jenna,
and for pocket money, I should be getting a tenner”
Each Friday brought tantrums, as she hardly had any,
reluctantly taking just a penny for Jenny.

Her increase in years simply brought more despair,
she bleached ebony locks for she needed fair hair.
The colours of clothes always caused her to cry,
so to get round the problem she learned to tie-dye.

Now I know it will come as some sort of surprise,
but Jenny had caught a young gentleman’s eyes.
He knew things would be tough, but he’d give it a try
so, with posies of roses, he dared to drop by.

The roses were great and he was kinda cute,
he’d even gone to the trouble of tie-dying his suit.
He was called Jack Kilkenny, his name did not rhyme,
so she told him to leave and stop wasting her time.

But Jack was his nickname, his real name was Lenny.
Alas, this information was not known to Jenny.
He was perfect for her, a match better than any,
for if they’d wed they’d be Lenny and Jenny Kilkenny.


Details | Name Poem | |

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 | Name Poem | |

Houston we have a problem

"When returning love, becomes to Late"

Fantastic,
From her eyes
His name the name
She mumbles silently 
3 rivers, 3 years, 2 many tears
She loves him endlessly

Sending her soul
A free feeling, 
Finally, he fell
Engaging, equal to the spell
Morning, mountains and more
Move across a new age moon
His heart happily 
Traveling towards hers
Dashing dandy, onto her dinner plate 
Too long she waited, 
She's not hungry, her heart self healed 

3 rivers 3 years 2 late
Her tears faded his rusty name 

SKAT

Details | Name Poem | |

My Only Flame

My Only Flame

Love, like fire, is all-consuming,
And forever should be blooming.
Endless courtship is not a game.
As we watch each year’s seasons turn,
My torch for you will ever burn.
No regrets giving you my name.
You always will my soul inspire,
Forever be my one desire--
My first and last and only flame.

Originally posted in June 2014

Details | Name Poem | |

Alana Dulcita

Once in a forest, a long time ago, there dwelt a young maiden, bright, sweet and fair. Flowers she wore in her long wavy hair, and each day she’d vanish into gloaming’s glow. Alana Dulcita was this young maid’s name, a name that fell sweetly from everyone’s tongue. The townspeople loved her -both old and young, yet nobody knew from where the girl came. They only knew that, at the end of each day, with sun dipping downward into the west and sky splashed with colors Alana liked best, was when, as if magically, she’d slip away! “Where does she go?” all the villagers asked, “And how does she leave us so quietly that not even one of us ever can see? Has some kind of spell on our dear girl been cast?” Spell or no spell, the young maid had powers as into the woodland she fled and then donned a gossamer gown, hidden well near a pond surrounded by beautiful flowers. She peered into water after she’d kneel as a lovely face gazed back at her. In this perfect moment, what should occur but, like magic, the girl became real! Her filmy silk gown would blend with her skin, shrinking into a stem, and her face changed into petals till soon not a trace remained of the form that a human lives in. Alana Dulcita, her real self again, breathing lilacs’ and lilies’ sweet scent, would bow her fair face, a flower content, to repose by the pond with her kin. Awaking at dawn, renewed, she’d return to the town where they loved her so well, keeping the secret she never could tell of youth’s beauty for which humans yearn. She’d never grow old as long as she had a place of seclusion where she might go to water around which bright flowers could grow, for this is what kept the soul of hers glad! Never to marry and never to stay too long in one place, she’d always move on. Beloved she would be till the day she was gone. This, for Alana, was the only way. Alana Dulcita, where did she go when forests grew small and lake beds grew dry? Did the fair maid eventually die or is she still sleeping where bright blossoms grow?
Note: The name Alana means "the bright fair one" in Gaelic or "precious; awakening" in Hawaiian & "Beautiful dear child" in Irish/ the name Dulcita is Latin for "sweet." Written by Andrea Dietrich & Inspired by the "Reflections" Contest Sponsored by Constance La France ~A Rambling Poet~

Details | Name Poem | |

over and over agin

sometimes i talk to myself, 
my mind is racing,
i dont know what to do...
so hard to explain.
depression isn't a stage
or a faze some kids go through
it shatters you...
i saw it all. 
she cried silent in her bed,
blood stains covered her favorite jeans,
her every shirt,
long sleeve ofcourse...
she suffered through it all with few people to call friend
and more to call enemy
even more to say where quite dissappointed....
FAT
her first name in school,
not started by a bully
or a mean rival,
but by her sister, 
and it echoed through her soul,
repeating in her mind... over and over again,
like the ripples of still water
when a pebble is dropped
flash frozen in time
repeating,
over and over again...
It was the first name they gave her,
millions where created over the years,
some unique
some repeating again, just as the first had..
gothic they called her,
emo, fat, ugly....worse things.
but in her mind, things where worse.
everything was repeating,
over and over again,
finally she believed it. 
she asked for help, from everyone
tried to explain to parents she wasnt well,
got called a psycho for asking to see a theripist,
not from a teacher,
not from a class mate,
but from her own father, who wouldn't, couldn't,
believe there could possibly be a thing wrong....
finally, crying, she confessed her bloody secret to a teacher.
rather then giving her time,
she is sent back to class crying her eyes out, as if she wherent going through enough...
she is sent to the principals office a few minutes later, after breaking down in class...
the princlipal says she needs help,
sends her and her dad for a risk evaluation,
her dads crying as she shows him her cuts...
they walk into a hospital room, 
it smells of chemicals and hand sanitizer,
the lady at the desk gives her a smile.
then she goes into a room with a lady,
her cheeks are sunken in and shes wearing way too much makeup,
the girl is gaging on her perfume,
and she looks really intimidating....
her dark brown hair looks dead and flat
even though its a bit wavy, 
and she wears somewhat of a mocking frown.
asks her all these questions,
is mommy beating her?
no
is daddy raping her?
no
is she doing drugs?
not alot
is anyone beating her?
pass...
did anyone molest her? 
pass....
oxcarbezapine, trazadone, citalipran, clinazapam, colonipan,
valium, lithium, more.......
and thats what they gave her,
more... 
some numbed the pain
some brought it out
tearing through her organs,
she became an addict by the time she was fourteen....
over dose after over dose
some for pleasure
some for pain,
gashes on her legs getting deeper,
this time she didnt tell a soul,
not even those she had come to call friends....
wakeup she screamed in her head over and over again
as she dropped weight like it was nothing....
you cant controll it she argued as things became worse. 
at age fourteen she attempted suicide,
she didnt quite succeed.
the medication took away her aappitite....
she liked it
she hated her body
hated herself
felt out of controll
found a new way to cope
as she shoved tooth brush after toothbrush down her throat
to keep her body from nuitrients...
as she whent weeks and weeks spitting food into napkins and making excuses 
I ate at my friends house....
spoken as a whisper
heard like a sentance
echoing in her mind over and over again,
along with that word, all the words,
FAT!!!!!!
ugy, anoying, stupid, fake, worthless, nothing...
one bite she would say
rocking back and forth
craving nothing but food
her body racked with hunger pain
one bite and there she was again
FAT!
over and over and over again
back to a toothbrush
this time she sees blood
she saw her ribs
she saw her bones,
it wasnt good enough,
she almost died, again....
choking on this deep dissappointment in herself,
gaging on everything they where pushing down her throat, 
their words, and their insults, their criticism.... their drugs
all shoved down her throat like candy
and just as she was was trained to do she swallowed despite the bad taste
or the hurt
or the fact that at the rate she was going she would be dead soon...
and you know why? 
because daddy yelled 
and couldnt accept what was happening
not because he wanted to hurt her
but because it hurt him,
and she let him believe,
because she could take the hurt if it meant he didnt have too.
because mommy didnt want to sit in her room all day
smoking weed
doing nothing,
practically having us raise ourselves,
she didnt mean to take anger, or frustration or hurt out on her daughter
she suffered everyday in her solitary confinement,
and from a young age she accepted her bedroom was the cage
 her mother had created for herself.
because sister didnt want to effect her the way she did
she was just frustrated
fed up with the way things where
scared, she needed someone to take her cruelty
and to help heal her pain...
because people in school
who where so cruel
had to have learned from somewhere
and she wasnt going to play into their games,
and they knew she was an easy target
because she would never attack someone so weak
and she accepted her suffering was a sacrafice
to help all these people....
to help her dad,
her mom,
her sister,
every person who was beaten abused or hurt
 and felt so weak at home they wanted to feel strong in the one safe place they had.
because depite the fact she had died inside,
and almost passed away on the out,
it was a saccrafice she was willing to make
so that no one else would have to feel that kind of pain,
and they all inflicted it and broke her down'untill there was nothing left but a shell
of somthing that could have been
and never had the chance
and why? 
because she would take it and wouldnt strike back,
because sometimes "just taking it"
isnt so much about the weakness not to do anything
but about the strangth not to hurt others the way they hurt you...

Details | Name Poem | |

Rivers of intense reverberations

Wind Wind whistle,Blow his name up in the sky,where it belongs.
Blow his name amongst the Stars,where radiant angels play their
golden harps and Faries play their horns.
Clouds,Clouds,be his cushioned pilows,the place where he can rest.
Moon,Moon shine his darkened night,and be his rocking cradle nest.
Crickety Crickets play  in clattering melodies,as raindrops fall in
tick tick waltz on the dancing trees in wafting breeze.
Handsome red chested cardinal,open your wing of passion to your
silky whitye pure dove,as the wind blows her to your shelter,
Sing for her the song of love.
Wind Wind,whirl again and blow his name up in the sky,above all 
Greek gods,above highest of the high,where she holds him,
till all crushing waves,wild tides and oceans die.

Details | Name Poem | |

The Unicorn

The unicorn horse, 
With a horn on its head, 
Is just a mythical animal
who runs in the forest, 
The unicorn myth, 
shall always live on.
A legendary horse, 
next to legendary man.
But through times of greatness, 
the myth lives on.
While grazing the grasses.
and roaming the lands.
The unicorn's exsistence, 
extraordinarily lives on.
A shimmer of hope, 
he has brought to the masses.
a symbol of purity and grace, 
throughout the Middle Ages, 
The Renaissance horse
has written the pages. 
The Unicorn's horn, 
was used for defenses, 
The Unicorn's legs
could jump many fences, 
Across the lands, 
and down to the sea.
The Unicorn's exsistence, 
was as rare as can be.
Strong as an Ox, 
he could never be captured.
By the grasp of the virgin, 
the horse could not flee.
The Virgin Mary herself, 
would not let the horse free..


Unicorn Poetry by Kim Robin Edwards
Copyright 2014.All Rights Reserved.

Details | Name Poem | |

My good name

if my good name means keeping face with those who are not so good 
strip my flesh of my good name and let me be not misunderstood 

if my good name means putting on a facade to indulge the higher ups 
then lower me below the lowest and empty my deceitful cup 

if my good name means being nice to appease your sensibilities 
then strip me of my good name and arm me with accountability 

if my good name means betrayal to soul, self and spirit 
then silence my good name because i don't want to hear it 

if my good name means i have to tell myself a lie 
then to hell with my good name i'd rather tell the truth and die!!!!!!

Details | Name Poem | |

On Names

I once met a farmer,
Who showed me the plains.
“What is this beauty?”
And he told me her name.

I once met a shaman,
He lived in forests of rain.
“What is this beauty?”
And he told me her name.

I once met a sailor,
Who showed me the waves.
“What is this beauty?”
And he told me her name.

So when I met you,
I was struck by your face.
“Who are you?”
And you told me your name.

Details | Name Poem | |

Handling Reality

Reliving painful moments every single day
Envying other's fortune
Always wanting the love of another
Loving people who will never care
Inviting things into your life that you can't handle
Trying to forgive while dealing with more pain
Yearning for the perfect life that no one will ever have

Details | Name Poem | |

the visitors

knock knock knock
on my front door
i get up to look
it's lonliness at the door

but quite and still
i would not let
lonliness in so peacefull i slept

morning came
and with the knocks once more
but i kept my temper
and evened the score

inside i sat quietly
wishing he'd go away
but he yelled from outside
he had something to say

i said "go away"
and i put a record on
something moving and grooving
i played it all day long

but when evening came 
i put on a sweater
and decided to play 
something much better

something smooth
something sentimental
something with lyrics
that are very gentile

something with words
that don't dare remind
of terrible incidences
recently left behind

constantly reminding me
it should be a crime! 
it should be a crime!!
it should be a crime!!!

anger was present
he had a key
i was glad to see him 
and he was glad to see me

but lonliness
though being out side
made his presence known
in certian shadows
in certian rooms

anger said
"have a drink" 
and handed me a bottle
"listen up. i know how to fix that flirt. 
slap her in the face.
rub her name in the dirt!"

and with this 
my imagination ran wild
drink after drink 
we talked a while

but i remembered myself
this wasn't my style

and once again lonliness 
knocked at the door
i let him in and fell
crying to the floor

why, oh why must you visit
once more?!

he said "to try to give you wisdom
where you broke down before.
to try to give you knowledge 
before you go through the door. 
to try to make you stronger,
if you should do it again.
and to always let you know 
that i am your constant friend. 
i am with you in your solitude
i am with you while you sit 
surrounded by friends.
i scream my name LONLINESS!
in your ears very loud.
never forget my power 
or giving me my hours."

and with that 
he sat his fat ass down

Details | Name Poem | |

No Chain, No Charm

In Unison-
~No Chain, No Charm~

United we own
Firm, full of finest goodies-
Our ground of freedom.


United we stand
Firm from failure and horror-
On the ground of strength.

United we pray
Faithfully with open mind-
Our bliss is assured.


Details | Name Poem | |

My Angel Got Her Wings

my angel got her wings
one day
and just like that
she flew away
way up in the sky 
toward God
seeing the invisible
and praising the Lord
some may ask me
how i feel
because i lost something
really real
my mind will wonder where to go
without her it just doesn't know
my eye's will miss her
they already do
and my ears that listened
they miss her too
and the chair next to me
will be empty for a while
and my words"I Love You"
won't make a sound
pictures will remind me 
of your smile
i did get to love you
for a little while
but deep in my heart
that's where you'll stay
forever you'll be
forever and a day

Details | Name Poem | |

the day you flew to Heaven


           We knew , it was if a moment stopped in time 
              hearing the news before most of the World did
           He loved to fly his plane from Colorado to Monterey Bay
           He was a avid golfer at Pebble Beach respected 

           He had loves and passions from many places 
           deciding to fly low through the overcast red sunset
            Not only did he love music and inspire all 
            He loved his Plane , he will always remain a beautiful Soul

              The next day it was confirmed ..all saddened 
             It was John Denver's plane that went down
             Today in Pacific Grove stands the Memorial 
             So Kiss me and smile for me we will ~
              always in loving memory 
               OH babe ,  do we hate you go ~    
                            
    

         Inspired by ; contest in Music and Loss of an Artist
                   "Leaving on a Jet Plane "
             

Details | Name Poem | |

Don't leave me hanging

 Don't leave me hanging sis!


I came out of nowhere with an agenda on the mind
Joining the soup to be near my favorite love
a game I did not plan to play
Until he called upon the first round.
giving it my best shot
Then came round three and more. 
The poets here I started to explore
Not taking my poetry seriously
The writing just happens naturally
now I see why she visits everyone at the soup.
My sister who puts on a show with words
Is adored by her very own group
the Destroyer was my pet name 
She gave me when I was young
So envious of her, I broke the head of her only dolls.
using her poetry was the way she tortured me 
Inside me, she bestowed a poet of mischief
Now I like to tease everyone mind with words


I hate this poem..... Lol..don't read it... It was a joking way back then


(((for contest**Leave me hanging)))

Details | Name Poem | |

Ever Turning Circle

In winter’s white, as angels cry
for early spring to warm the wind,
to bring to life with gentle sigh,
in love, the bitter frost has thinned.

For early spring to warm the wind,
at Valentine’s romantic calls,
in love, the bitter frost has thinned,
where dancers twirl amid stone walls.

At Valentine’s romantic calls,
rebirth of nature’s light divine,
where dancers twirl amid stone walls,
and blossoms pastel shades recline.

Rebirth of nature’s light divine,
when day equals the hours of night,
and blossoms pastel shades recline,
to hail the queen of May in light.

When day equals the hours of night,
a summer’s sun will come to play,
to hail the queen of May in light,
we chant and sing along the way.

A summer’s sun will come to play,
so life can grow as gods decreed,
we chant and sing along the way,
with warmth and light our hunger feed.

So life can grow as gods decreed,
the rays of sun on seeds we’ve sown,
with warmth and light our hunger feed,
the wealth of harvest is our own.

The rays of sun on seeds we’ve sown,
in autumn breeze that chills the heat,
the wealth of harvest is our own,
as gold and red belies our feet.

In autumn breeze that chills the heat,
a year that ends with blessed Samhain,
as gold and red belies our feet,
the call of Ancient’s name to reign.

A year that ends with blessed Samhain,
to bring to life with gentle sigh,
the call of Ancient’s name to reign,
in winter’s white, as angels cry.