Best Pen Name Poems
"The Ballad of The Poet Destroyer"
Destroyer, and creator of words
Flying high on the wings of a bird
Drowning every inch, by foes and friends
Where has she gone?
When push came to shove,
She continued standing tall after every fall
Falling fearlessly like the falling star tapping the lips
Topaz, a star in the eyes of envy the enemy
A dreamlike, miracle mirage, fresh like mints
No reason in remembering yesterday's sad song
Slightly she moves in with the new barren breeze,
A maze in disguise, no way out
A feeling so good, you hate
The naming of names, that won't escape you
Your eyes of lust, imitate PD's sweetest touch,
Destruction, with pleasure
A new day, killed by the morning after pill
Everyone gone, shadows remain
Where, has she gone?
A feeling so good, you hate
Your unmatched precision wobbles your stability
She'll give you a taste of rays, despite your low self-esteem
Happiness turns to sadness, making every jaw drop
Where has she gone?
She's not the painting of Mona Lisa,
However, it does not stop you from spending your cash-
-To see a picture painted with a frown,
Look what you've done!
Never to return, what was, what is!
You say you love her, then you run
A dry barrel, an empty gun,
Never will the enemy be number one,
Nothing but a shadow, a rug for PD,
Like a dream, her imagery is haunting
Love her or leave her, her pen name remains
Poet O' Poet where are you?
An advocate of smiles, enjoy her copy-paste kiss
Trace her silhouette found in the midnight mist
Blindfolded, indulge by the wind
Breaking, the Texas Hold EM' Hand
Her freedom, her land
Gone insane, she laughs,
Untouched she remains, she lives
Inside of me
By; PD
I was born a poet not manufactured.
It started with a heart feeling fractured.
Childhood trauma led to built up suppression,
but the soul yearned for creative expression.
For years my poems hid in secret memoirs,
but a battle with cancer left behind deep scars.
Tongue remained silent, but my muse began to pour,
through reflection and introspective candour.
Some use words as weapons to cause sorrow,
but I write to leave a legacy for tomorrow.
I have no desire for applause nor for fame,
so I express my musings using a pen name.
Each verse is written through metaphorical blood,
in hope one day my life will be understood.
I'm only allowed the names of three
so I will write of those that would be for me.
There are so many that this is unfair
but, since that is the rule I must list there:
Carolyn Devonshire who gave me the courage to write
with her words of encouragement on this site.
She always found a "silver lining" in my work,
and never told me that I write like a jerk.
Tho it has been years since I've been around
her help and inspiration never set me aground.
She never left me twisting in the wind alone
as she helped my poorest works to hone.
There is also a Poet Destroyer for whom I have praise
I wish my words to her level I could raise.
Why her "Poet Destroyer" pen name I could never see
unless, of course, you compare mine to her poetry.
Mine is crushed by the words she can write
but I am ever grateful to her for wanting to put mine to flight.
When you have a writer who can put you to shame,
it's only natural that you want to do the same.
CayCay Jennings is my third choice
as she has helped me to "refind" my voice.
I appreciate her critiques of the work I do
all I can give is a big "THANK YOU".
She was one of the first to welcome me back here
and always gave me words of good cheer.
Her suggestions have been given with such grace
sometimes they put a smile on my face.
There is her writing which is also so stellar
as compared to mine, some of which belong in a cellar.
Some of the things she has written down
Have with me, a deeper meaning found.
So these are the three heroes that I must name
but so many more have done the same.
Not only are there poets whose names I could not call
to give them the honors they should have one and all.
Yes, I have heroes here unnamed
because my pen had to be tamed.
But know that I appreciate each and all that you do
Whenever I write, I'm thinking of you.
written: 10/30/15
To an unmet friend:
You see the mortal world
and for you man is machine,
little more than a device
for the vagaries of evolution.
Faith is illusion, hope lacks
weight-- and love? Can love
be other than mere sex,
nature's sole mandate?
And your science now tells
you: what can I ever know?
All is quantum topsy-turvy,
mother nature being part
whore, part illusionist....
Your thinking breaks all
down to little pieces,
and nothing matters
as matter is all while
science the only god
left for us to worship.
And we are nothing,
not even dreams
anymore, just bits
and pieces to be
examined, classified,
and then ignored--
for science is all,
and faith but a
refuge for fools.
You are honest,
I know-- you see
yourself as just
another machine,
destined for decay.
then destruction--
your sentience but
a cruel joke told
yet again-- and
no one laughs.
You and I,
we breathe,
we think,
we live, but
you would stop
at death while
I begin there....
I sing to the Eternal:
quell not my songs
as they rise above
the sad despair born
of your vacant world
and follow myriad stars
streaming their wondrous
light in the vast dead-cold
Universe....
I sing to Eternity,
I sing to my Soul.
[poet's note: Under my pen name, Nolo Segundo, I used this as both the title and the opening poem in my first book, 'The Enormity of Existence' because I think of this poem as coming out of something I experienced in 1971 as a 24 year old when I almost drowned in the Winooski River in Vermont. I was like that 'unmet friend' before I went into that river: certain of my nihilism, believing only matter was real--no God, no soul, no meaning to life. For 1/2 a century I've had more questions than answers, but I do know that what we perceive as 'reality'--with our limited senses and limited intellects-- is not 'Reality'....]
LETTER TO MY FUTURE SELF
Hello there, sweet Lady Jane,
So, it is three weeks before you turn seventy,
do you think you can honestly tell you found
your peace of mind, contentment, happiness?
Or are you still searching for answers to the
things you never understand and wondering
the what ifs, when you damn know there would
be no answers, no explanations, no clarifications.
Your children are giving you a party and all your
grandchildren will be there to celebrate you.
Do they make you proud for what they become?
Or do you still think you did not spend enough time
with them when you cannot turn back time or do
you still worry and wish something better for them?
All your siblings with their spouses, children and
grandchildren will join your family in celebrating
you reaching a major milestone, are you excited?
Or do you still feel like an outsider for your
mother, their mother treated you differently.
I know your life did not turn to be what you wanted,
as your life journey put you through many adversities
including sorrow and pain that you turned out to be
what you are meant to be, a strong willed woman.
You learned to let go the shadows that haunted you
and you accepted and embraced what life threw at you
becoming appreciative and thankful with your blessings.
In the past, you were asked many times what your plans
were for the next five years? ten years? for the future?
You had so many for you couldn’t get no satisfaction.
Now, you just whisper let it be, the words of wisdom.
Your dreams never materialized; but they never left you.
So at this time in your life you think you are never too old
to dream or create new ones by reinventing yourself.
You dare to live your life at its fullest and take a chance
to create your own happiness for it is a decision, a choice.
So, my sweet Lady Jane, it is nice to see you not worrying
about the future; but dancing and rocking to rock and roll
music, living like Ruby Tuesday, you come and go and
change every new day and you just imagine, living for today.
Ahhhh……..
11/22/21 Your Favorite Poem of 2021 Poetry
Chantelle Anne Cooke
9/18/21 Written and Submitted
Letter To Your Future Self Poetry
Silent One
NOTE: My pen name is Sweet Lady Jane
from the Rolling Stone's Lady Jane
HASHTAGS AND SELFIES
This era of the ego,hashtags
and selfies..and me me me...
to the fore,impatience always
knocking on my door.
Instant this,instant that,self
congratulation,superficial self
expression..quickly,quickly..I've
social media to explore.
Insecurity underlines my every
post, stamped for all to see.
Where Respect..Respect is craven
most..in this world of me..
My thoughts are running wild..Pity
pity me..I've never grown up..
I'm immature... still just a child.
Listen to this and all my PS poetry recited onyoutube under my pen name ichthyschiro
REJUVANT RESTORATION
Windows of my life,through
which I see the world.Silhouettes
imaged moments transfigured
forever imprinted upon memory.
Windows of my life,paused moments
in which I live in the land of the living.
Precious gaps of reality,distractions
from the monotony of the repetitive
routine of the cycles of my rehabilitation
a rejuvant restoration on the road to good health.
You may hear me recite this and most of my PS catalogue on Youtube under my pen name ichthyschiro.
Words and actions
We can't take back
Then say "I'm sorry"
After the fact
Pleasures taken today
Are tomorrow's regrets
Apologies offered
We hope they forget
Contentment subsides
Reality sets in
We got what we wanted
At the price of a friend
Self-gratification
Was our only concern
Relationships damaged
Why can't we learn
That consequences of acting
Before we think
Can not be repaired
By being succinct
Posted on another website under my pen name "poemdog" Daniel Turner
I'm thinning out some things of mine
I do not want or need
Some for sale some for trade
Most of it is free
My poisonous relationships
They gave me fits and rashes
All the bridges that I burned
Well, there's the can of ashes
Wishes are a dime a dozen
Believe me there are plenty
You can have my broken dreams
And thoughts are just a penny
This box of nickels is dirt cheap
They're all made of wood
A pack of lies that I bought
Some are pretty good
There used to be some happiness
It seems to be misplaced
I lost some time that I was given
But most just went to waste
These mirrors with smoke, a pig in a poke
A hook, line, and sinker
All came free with my insurance
From unscrupulous hood-winkers
My policy is "No returns"
I hope you'll understand
If you're like me then you'll agree
This junk's still in demand
national poetry competition entry under my pen name "poemdog"
She let the door bang when she entered these pages
so all would know she was here.
She signed her pen name as Poet Destroyer.
We soon came to call her P.D.
She wanders these pages making kind comments,
runs contests that are easy and fun.
She judges and praises the winners,
and does it all over again.
P.D. has won our hearts
and we love her.
She comes in the night
leaving notes like mom used to do.
When she gets to know us
she signs her real name
Linda suits her much better
than Destroyer.
Written 5/10/ 13
For contest “Appreciation” (for p.d.)
You earned it
The right to
Stand out
To show your true colors
To go by the name
That best represents
The real authentic you
The you you’ve grown into
Select your pen name
With utmost care
Flaunt your uniqueness
Divulge your true colors
AP: Honorable Mention 2021
Anchor down, wind at ease all the sailors out to please, one by one they step off deck and into the arms of who knows heck.
For a night of drinking, a fist full of titty, and a bottle of good ole smitty, to drowned out their long and grueling lives and sink in pity by those beer goggled cuties who in the end get their share of good ole boys that breathe the sea as if it where air, waiting for someone who's never there, just to care.
By Leah Munoz
Pen name (Leloo Pair)
So many amazing Artist ~
one would never complain
Just to be amongst all Soup
my name will never be plain
I love all indiscriminately
My friends you'll remain
Not to confuse or cause pain
for the reason lies not in Vain
From now on just call me
Shanity Rain ~
However my Children remind me , I'm Insane ~
' Shanity Rain my new Pen name '
Tuesday morning
October 20, 2015
10:26 a.m.
Kansas City, Mo
Stephen Becker pen name Brian Stoaks
“Sweet Honey”
I awoke this morning to the warmness of your breath on my neck
Smiling I dared not move afraid to wake you and cause this feeling to end
I laid there thinking about the happiness your presence has brought to me
You softly begin to kiss my neck bringing me out of my thoughts
Having you in my arms is what makes my world shine with starry nights
I whisper good morning as you continue kissing my neck softly
Unwilling to stop your loving motions I stroke your back gently
No longer soft I begin to harden with every kiss and nibble upon my skin
I can feel your hand travel to grasp my hardness as if afraid it will run away
Your kisses become more as you move towards the object of destination
No longer able to hold a moan I arch my hips upwards with each stroke
Your lips, and your tongue, have engulfed me completely causing my eyes to close
Feeling empty I turn your body around so that I too may enjoy your body
Softly I kiss your thighs teasingly before parting the lips before me
I flick my tongue upon your love button causing you to moan around my tool
Instantly your sweet honey escapes your lips filling my mouth with sweetness
December 12, 2015
11:43 p.m.
Kansas City, MO
Stephen Becker pen name Brian Stoaks
“It’s Just Daddy”
My life isn’t suppose to be like sad love songs played by strangers
My heaven has already arrived the moment God gave you both air to breathe
Without your hugs to keep my happiness shining brighter than a light house beacon
I shed these tears of missing you girls like the water flowing with natures rain
Constant thoughts having to be dismissed for the heartache is so over bearing
We were once a family of three; now I sit alone in the darkness of one
Trying not to cry is useless when your faces envelop my every thought
I am missing the most beautiful daughters in God’s loving but thoughtless world
Tonight I reach out my arms to the darkness in hopes of finding you there
With my life without your arms around me I constantly cry for a miracle
Please reach out your arms to me so that these dreams will no longer be just dreams
For when our arms connect once more our family of three will dry these falling tears
With the night time already here and I cannot give you three kisses
I kiss into the wind through the open window in the direction of where you sleep
Hoping the knock on your window will cause your mind to let me in
It’s just daddy missing his angels while praying for God to make us three once again