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Name
“The minute you publish your own name you lose freedom.” -Ted Hughes.
What we find in a name
is the mystery of a person.
Five letters or ten,
syllables,
you play over and over
to a mantra or a tune of a song
you have never heard.
Is it the one you imagined?
I give my letters for free,
but you hide yours under
sand castles that break.
I should have changed it,
walked among the normal
and let the secrets lie in
alphabetical order.
I meant to
but my father died and
everything changed.
Legacy and names
became as relevant
as building inspectors
handing you notices
of an evaluation of a lifetime.
Write, read and produce words
like a factory produces t-shirts
that hold in the warmth
of your soul. Made in China.
Made in Canada. Erupted
recession in California dreamers
wanting to hug all those trees
of
recycled hearts.
Poets with fake names
and broken stems
flowered bookmarks
library cards
take your name
and stare at it a while.
Remember when you counted
the letters in your name
eight plus seven equals fifteen
adding them up
and making up numbers?
Was that just me?
Memorizing claps.
Rewriting history
with lies.
Names reveal too much
and that alone is the essence
of writing.
Comments:
10
Oh, wow. This is fabulous!
thanks Laurel
I seriously love your poem thoughts ….megxxx ( Peggy )
oh so sweet, thank you Peggy lol xxx
Beautiful. Simply beautiful. Very much reminded the sercuity or resentment one discovers in a name.
Thank you so much! Humbled
Feels strange to like this as much as I do, yet still keep my pen name. Still, I like my freedoms. 🙂 A name is a powerful thing, especially when it lets you feel connected.
yes, it is, thank you.
Awesome thoughts! I use a nom de guerre because I admire who he was, even if fictitious. In many ways, I am just like he was and just as fictitious, I suppose
thank you