Our Host
Mo Daley is a middle school reading specialist in Homewood, IL. After work, she enjoys spending time with her family, bike riding, traveling, and fixing up her home. You can occasionally find her at pub trivias in the Chicago suburbs. EthicalELA has been an amazing boon to her writing the last few years. You can find Mo on Twitter and Instagram @ofdaleys.
The Inspiration
Peter Balakian’s Pulitzer Prize winning collection Ozone Journal opens with “Name and Place,” a poem that made me think about how important names are.
Process
Jot down what you know or think about your name. Spend a couple of minutes researching your name. You might be surprised what Google tells you- I know I was! Choose a form that works for you and write about what your name means to you. My fall back is always free verse, but if another form suits you better, go for it!
Take what you’ve learned about your name and turn it into a poem. As always, be kind to yourself. If today’s prompt doesn’t work for you, write what you wish.
Mo’s Poem
What’s In a Name?
By Mo Daley
Have you, like Juliet, ever wondered
what’s in a name?
Take my name, Maureen…please!
I know it’s Gaelic, and I remember the priest
whispering reverently, “Maureen means little Mary”
as if the ten-year-old me might be a reincarnation
of the Virgin herself.
He failed to mention that Maureen also means
bitter.
When people hear Maureen, they think
classic
mature
formal
wholesome
refined
serious.
Let them.
As a child, the only other Maureen I knew
was my kindergarten teacher.
My name reached its peak popularity
between 1946 and 1955-
a full decade before I was born.
Even then, it was only the 88th most popular name
in the U.S.
By 2013, the last year anyone even cared
to track Maureen data,
only 43 of two MILLION babies born
were saddled with the moniker Maureen.
Apparently, I haven’t stood the test of time.
So, is that it?
Am I doomed to a life of irrelevance
because (I suspect) my parents needed a rhyme for Christine and Arlene?
Can I, in fact, smell just as sweet by any other name?
Maureen, Star of the Sea, beloved one
can change her modus operandi
and be who she wants to be.
She can be mo’ if she wants.
She can be like molybdenum-Mo-
a transitional metal essential for life and resistant to corrosion.
She can just be Mo.
Your Turn
Now, scroll to the comment section below to write your own poem. (This is a public space, so you may use only your first name or initials depending on your privacy preferences.) Not ready? That’s okay. Read the poems already posted for more inspiration. Ponder your own throughout the day. Return later. And, if the prompt does not work for you, that is fine. All writing is welcome. Just write something. Also, please be sure to respond to at least three writers. Oh, and a note about drafting: Since we are writing in short bursts, we all understand (and even welcome) the typos and partial poems that remind us we are human and that writing is always becoming. If you’d like to invite other teachers to write with us, tell them to subscribe.
What’s In My Name
Donnetta mean Lady
More like Little Lady, that is.
Much like -ita,
I’m sure -etta makes it small.
Derived from Donna
Which is actually true for me.
Donna Denise is my mama.
I am Donnetta Denise, her derivative.
So many D sounds, Donetta! Nicely done.
Your whole poem has such a conversational tone! Especially the second stanza. Calling yourself your mama’s “derivative” made me chuckle, but then made me think about how true that is for every daughter, whether we carry mom’s name, or not.
My Name’s Not Mary, It’s Mary Lee
Uncle Lee
unknown to me
buried in the Philippines
traveled far
Purple Star
life cut short because of war
share his name
I remain
living proof of lineage
I absolute love how you structure your poem and how it pay homage to Uncle Lee.
“living proof of lineage”
Your tribute to your uncle is another reminder of how important it is to get names right. Thank you for reminding us of that Mary Lee.
Mo,
Thank you so much for this awesome inspiration. One of our first activities this year is going to be about students’ names. I will read them The Name Jar and in response we will do things with their names. Now, I know writing a poem will be one of the things.
What I love most about your poem is the overall “feel” of it, its voice.
I was unable to get on here yesterday, so I suspect this poem will go unseen, and there is quite an irony in that. 🙂
Unseen
Very seldom do I hear my given name
Because mostly I am
“Mom”
“Hon”
“Mrs. Ahlbrand”
“Hey”
Susan
two syllables
not very common
yet very ordinary
meaning “lily”
and reaching
the height of its popularity
in the 1950s.
B Anthony and
Sarandon and
Lucci
are the most popular Susans.
S.E. Hinton
cut the usan off
in distaste of the name
or in an effort to hide gender?
The two vowel sounds
mimic distaste
ooooo
uhnnnnn
or do they mimi awe,
sounds emitted when
watching fireworks?
The consonant sounds
slither like a snake
ssssssssssssssssss
zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
Ending with a negative
affirmation
nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn
My childhood boyfriend
always shortened it to
Suz
his magnificent lips
dragging out the last two sounds
I still get goosebumps any time
someone uses that shortened moniker
My lip curls into a scowl
anytime someone shortens
me to Sue.
It feels nothing like my name,
like they are confusing me
with someone else
My dad always called me Hood
not Hood as in the
often-viewed-as-threatening
head adornment
but Hood rhyming with
food
mooed
lewd
stewed
feud
crude
and
dude.
And what I wouldn’t do
to hear that unique name
always spoken with affection
today.
I use names.
Teacher training encouraged it.
Doing so makes someone feel seen.
I don’t often hear my name.
Not Susan.
Not Suz
Not Hood
I often feel unseen.
Now I realize I am.
~Susan Ahlbrand
18 July 2021
Susan, Suz, Hood – I hope you feel heard and seen in all of these monikers today. We definitely see you in these words. The way you’ve written them, “S.E. Hinton cut the usan off,” brings attention to the individual. While your last words circle back to the title, know that you have been seen.
This is so powerful, Susan. You’ve taken us all over the place while learning about you and your name. The S. E. Hinton line is great. And your old boyfriend’s magnificent lips and subsequent goosebumps? Wow! The story of your dad and his nickname for you is wonderful. You are very much seen and heard.
Susan, this is my favorite part:
S.E. Hinton
cut the usan off
that is so clever and cute! I like the way you took each sound in your name and gave it an association – and I like the shortened names of endearment by those who love you!
Susan, You are totally seen! I love the glimpse into your various relationships (especially the one with your father) and the parsing of the sounds of your name. Very cool! And yep, I also totally agree with this stanza: “I use names. / Teacher training encouraged it. / Doing so makes someone feel seen.” Thanks!
Susan, Suz, Hood,
I enjoyed your poem this morning. I love how you talk about the sounds the letters in your name make. I was giggling throughout this well done piece.
My favorite line
Thank you for this prompt today. I really needed to sit and write. I have missed this. This is not what I planned to write when I sat down, however where I wanted to go just was not working for me.
Meaning of DeAnna
Laughing as I learned my name means fertile in Latin
No wonder I have five kids
Hebrew my name means God is judge
I have no funny lines about that
Reflecting on both meanings I wonder if my mom was hoping for grandkids when she named me
Also, I should have looked up the Latin meaning before naming my daughter after me.
Should I tell her?
DeAnna,
I love that I can hear your voice in this poem. It’s weird, isn’t it, how our names’ meanings seem to reflect our lives?
You are so present in this poem!! Can we be friends? (Of course you should tell her! Something tells me you won’t be able to keep this a secret?)
Gayle,
Yes, we totally van be friends!!
What a lovely way to start my day! First I love that you went where your spirit self led you. Always trust that! I appreciate the raw honesty in these lines. And why is “I have no funny lines about that” the funniest line – ?! A nice reflection of past, present and future. Isn’t lovely how we don’t plan what turns out well?
DeAnna, so funny! And yes, please tell your daughter! Isn’t it amazing that the poem we sit down to write is often not the one we write?
DeAnna! I love HEARING your voice through this poem. I admire how you incorporate humor AND seriousness within just a few lines. Nice work! I love writing with you.
I so enjoy the humor in your poem.
Tracie
How am I today years old and only just now researching the meaning of my name?
Apparently it is Irish for “warlike”.
I believe that people who know me say, “Yeah, that makes sense.”
They’re not wrong.
When people hear my name, they ask, “Is that with a y or an e-y?” I respond, “Neither. It’s with an i-e.”
I feel like nothing is easy with me.
Not what to order for take out.
Not what movie to stream on Friday night.
I don’t exactly love being associated with war.
Oxford says war is “a sustained effort to deal with or end a particular unpleasant or undesirable situation or condition.”
I’d like to believe that people who know me say, “Yeah, that makes sense.”
Tracie,
I am today years old when I looked at the meaning of my name in a language other than Hebrew.
I enjoyed your poem.
Tracie—your voice is so strong here. You begin with a quizzical approach and end in strength, a wry and powerful approach. Bravo.
Tracie, oooh! I love how you embraced that warlike princess at the end. I’d like to think that a sustained effort to deal with injustices could be an awesome name to live up to. Love your stream of consciousness here as you think about Tracie!
Irish and warlike are compounding elements given the turbulent history of that nation, they had little choice but to develop their skills of defense. But there is also an intellectual element to war – the planning, the strategizing, the ability to know your opponent, as well as ‘respectful’ manners which we expect even in a warring situation. All of these are components that need to be negotiated and finessed as we course through life – and war. Think: Sun Tzu’s The Art of War. The underlying message of these poem to me is getting the reader to broaden their understanding of what war can mean. Thus, what we can mean in our lifetimes. And I always love a poem with attitude. Others may call it tone, but when it is a powerful commentary, I’m going with attitude.
Tracie, your voice is so strong- I feel like we are having a conversation here. What I like most is how you have embraced a seeming negative, wrestled with it, and made it such a positive. Love this!
Hi Tracie! As a Stacey who gets asked the same questions “with an e, no e, ie, or ee” it makes me laugh to associate it with:
I am right there with you, my friend!
I have never liked my name, so this is how it sounds to me.
Some Names
Some names announce
their arrival like thunder,
a booming hardness
that catches in the throat;
first a syllable coughed forth,
followed by a lilting rise,
a short squeak before
sliding in and landing;
then consonants cascade
into a hollow valley,
like a bolder landing with
a thud, an echoing ugh.
Thanks for writing while you are on vacation, Glenda. Your poem is beautiful and full of such vivid imagery. But I wanted to tell you that I have never thought those things about your name. I think you are the only Glenda I know!
I love this!! Onomatopoeia at its finest. This is excellent! A short squeak before sliding in and landing… what a picture you paint!
OH, my goodness! I have never spoken your name like I did today, while reading your poem. It had me laughing and over-exaggerating your great sounds and images here. So much to love here: “Some names announce their arrival like thunder” and “cascade into a hollow valley” and “like a boulder landing with a thud” – Masterfully written!
I think of another poem you wrote that included Baum’s Glinda and I say your name differently.
Glenda – I love the sound and movement in this poem. It made me reread it with a loud voice… I was imagining a name like Beauregard! Ha! That booming beau and the “cascade” of consonants… how perfect to parse out the idea this way. Glenda is a lovely name, and it’s fun here on ethicalela to have all our names and to think of them always in terms of our poetry and wordsmithing… I think of Glenda as my own poet laureate of Ideeho and exotic travels who knows so much literature and has such an open mind for learning… that’s the Glenda in my mind, and I really love her! Susie
I love reading poems that make me wish I had written them! A creative take on the prompt, and a different way to suggest approaching to it, to write a poem about how your name ‘sounds’ when spoken as well as heard. It requires naming and identifying parts of speech. My fave: “then consonants cascade / into a hollow valley.” I imagine that boulder landing more like the thud of a giant footstep announcing: “Here I am.” : ) Embrace the ‘ugh’!
A Name
Today the grocery clerk
asked “Allison” to bag the watermelon.
I answered.
The redhead sacking my sundries
laughed; she too was Allison.
Her name tag said Ally;
what my family calls me,
spelled Alli.
My husband calls me Al.
Students call me B-hill,
a sobriquet of Berryhill.
———-
My mother calls my father
Berry.
I’ve always wanted
that nickname
As I write this poem,
I consider:
Can I please be
Berry?
…..
How hard it must be
to assert
a name
let alone
bury another
plus a
a gender
a childhood
a family’s expectations
a society’s side-eye
(oh and) outright
discrimination.
………
As I consider my name
I hold
Evelyn
Nolan
Alexandra
Alex
Kaden
and
Alexis
at the starfire
of my gaze:
Let me
call you
by your
name:
your self-chosen name
+ (oh,yeah) your self-asserted
pronouns
Let me honor what
is core to
identity:
the name.
Alluson,
What begins as a seemingly simple meditation on how you see your name and its incarnation turns into a beautiful tribute to those who have been forced to fit a game rather than a name fit them. I love it. The time shift is fabulous. We should all strive to live up to these last lines:
“Let me
call you
by your
name:
your self-chosen name
+ (oh,yeah) your self-asserted
pronouns
Let me honor what
is core to
identity:
the name.”
Bravo!
*Allison, apologies for my typo in your name. I can’t find the edit option.
Allison, this is wonderful. So many possibilities for your name! The word play with berry and bury is clever and sad. Hugs to you!
So much to love. But I really loved “sacking my sundries” for some reason. An d then you moved into your family “at the star fire of my gaze”. Wow. Wish I would have crafted that phrase!
Berry, this is so beautiful. Poems are everywhere, aren’t they? You found one with Ally and the watermelon needing to be bagged. And then your poem found its way to honoring:
Evelyn, Nolan, Alexandra, Alex, Kaden, and Alexis…
holding them “at the starfire
of my gaze”
Ooo, Allison… this is marvelous… the roots in what our names mean to us as the bearers of identity. Your phrasings are always so fresh, so just right. How do you do that? To “assert a name”… perfect point! The “Berry” and “bury” … what everyone calls everyone as they sidle into names that “assert” a certain connection/relationship… that’s really so true, so accurate. And you ended in the “honor” arena, our names defining us… it is very much how names feel over time… we get to own that name and carry it around as a bit of naked truth. I clearly really loved your poem! Thank you! Susie
Ohhhhhh, Allison, this poem needs to be in a book about names. I just saw on Twitter that Nikki Grimes has a poem in a book titled I Sing: The Body. There needs to be a book I Sing: Your Name. Your poem hits all the marks to tell us more about you and your family and then it teaches a critical lesson on naming and all that it asserts. Wow. I can see how this would work in a lesson on identity at the beginning of the year.
Standing and clapping, a day late!
??????
Maureen, I cracked up imagining you listening to the priest, knowing what info he left out about your name! Your repetition of
“She can be” was quite impactful!
The first suggestion was Euliss after my
great grandfather – Walter Euliss – who drove
a bread wagon and passed away
eleven days before my birth.
My mother
rolled her eyes and said no.
Walter was never considered. My
grandfather – Walt – Walter George – was
still using it to sell milk, butter, and cheese and
never liked having to share it. He never met
his grandson, my sister’s boy, my
nephew – Wally – who uses it today.
My mother chose Jack, not so much because
she loved the name, but she loved the man who
wore it, my father the college boy,
the aerospace engineer – Jack Leon – whose
mother named him Jackie.
I was born weak. Doctors called me anemic and
not long for this world. My father couldn’t live with
imagining his name on a stone marking a baby’s grave.
So, now I’m Jeff like so many other little boys born
that year, weak or strong. Jeffrey David on paper.
Jeffrey meaning God’s peace, in some forgotten
language. David after a boy who slew a giant,
just like that other giantkiller, the one named Jack.
I grew out of what the doctors saw in me and grew into my
name and the family that named me.
What a stunning ending to your poem! I adore how you’ve risen and shown the world your strength. This is a beautiful poem about family.
Jeff, thank you for sharing this! I really like the connection you created with your middle name and your father’s first name and the juxtapositioning of that with your personal Goliath (the “expectations” of your doctors when you were born).
Jeff, your closing line is everything!
Jeff,
I love the honesty, openness, and storytelling woven into your poem! Your closing line (the family that named me) is killing. Bravo.
Jeff – Geez, I really love your turn of phase. It gives a real sense of YOU in every line in all that lineage. That’s really quite something.
The Euliss would’ve had my eyes rolling too… oh wow, that’s a heck of a name!
Each name speaks to a time and seems to fit the family description… Jack Leon as a “college boy”… it just sounds right.
And Walter George with the milk and butter. There’s farm strength in that sturdy name.
Your name… being declared “weak” and “anemic” by the doctor… that’s what they told my mama… this really speaks to a time and place when those goofball labels laid a yoke on kids. My favorite line is “I grew out of what the doctor saw”… perfect line!
Wow, this is the ending I hoped for!
I love the way your poem flows and shares sweet memories of you and your family!
Such a gift!
What’s in a name?
Mine doesn’t mean much
to me, anyway.
It was popular at the time
and chosen in a hurry
when they heard “You have a baby girl, hey!”
rather than the boy named Christopher
that they hoped for.
Susan, a name to call me.
Some say Sue or Susie.
Never say Suzanne.
That’s just plain mistaken.
And the name Soochee’s already taken.
Susan from the Hebrew means lily
whose culture I have no link.
A name for White babies eighty percent of the time,
I’m
not raising a stink.
Certainly not a name for an American Indian or an Alaskan Native.
Ask me why I was named that
and I’ll say “I give up!’
It is not a family name. They must of had a slate of
more names in the cup.
Maybe it turned up when singing the game
“Susan, Susan, bo-bruisan
Bonana-fanna fo-fusion
Fee Fi mo-musion
Susan!”
Hard to know who to blame
To go with the song
A grand choice all along.
Well, sometimes a name is just a name, but there’s no reason we can’t have fun with it! Your last two stanzas cracked me up!
Susan — Especially since we share the same name, I was so interested in your poem. I, like you did in the second to last stanza, thought about that crazy song, “Name Game.” I loved it when I was a kid. Together in name! Susie
Susan, you’re fifth stanza is so vivid for me. I can almost picture your family pulling names from a cup to determine their choice.
Susan,
Your opening stanza “doesn’t much to me, anyway” pulled me right in.
The “Christopher that they hoped for” furthered your theme.
I hear sincere feelings in this poem. Thank you.
My feelings about my name have changed over the years! Here is my poem:
When I was 5
My name was a comfort
Written on coat labels and school supplies
in my mom’s strong printing.
When I was 12
My name was too ordinary
Plain and practical. Counter, I felt, to my aspirations
Of beauty and elegance.
At 20, the Greek meanings of my name:
Rival, persuasive, striving, industrious
Clashed with my idealisms
Love and harmony, grace and kindness.
And now nearly 40
I find myself thankful the strength my mom infused
And perhaps after all, there is a beauty and grace that comes of
Striving industrious persuasion.
Emily, I love how you’ve expressed your changing feelings about your name. In reading today’s poems I’ve noticed that so many of us have settled into our names at one point or another.
Emily, you have captured the thoughts of a growing child through each decade. So true how our perceptions change and we learn of meanings and identity and become more appreciative of our parents. It is true that we grow into our names.
Emily,
I love this–the progression of feelings about your name are so spot on. Your final stanza pulls all of the mixed emotions into a beautiful acceptance.
Emily,
I love the progressive feeling about your name. Like I told Cara I really feel the combo of your poems for my own inspiration today.
My favorite line today
Emily, you so perfectly captured the process children go through with their names. Sometimes they want to change them. They shorten them and demand to be called variations of them, practice writing them in various fonts. Hate them-love them. Even investigate legally changing them. But hopefully they eventually accept and even find gratitude for them… like you have.
I love how it all circled back around, Emily. You encourage me to reflect on my relationship with my name throughout my life. Thanks for wiring this ❤️
Thanks for the prompt, Mo!
r a c h e l l e
rarely does anyone share this treat with me. It’s an acquired taste; an uncommon delicacy which
cautiously graces the lips of those testing it out. Yet,
hear how R erupts through the throat
even though the second syllable seeks to soothe.
Likely, this was the first of many contradictions that
live within and without me and aim to label
existence.
I have always been fascinated with the sound of words—and your analysis is spot on! Love the way you connect it to who you are!
The connection between the sound of your name and an aspect of yourself is intriguing! Well written and so thought provoking!
I love your spin on today’s prompt. The sounds are delicious!
Rachelle,
Like the others, I love how you connected the sound of your name to your personality. It made me repeat your name several times while reading your poem–a very fun way to really hear your point.
Rachelle,
I like everyone else like how you connected the sound of your name to its personality.
Great poem today. You shine through it.
Rachelle-sooooo much do I love how you connect your internal/external contradictions with the the letter sounds of your name!
Mo,
I love this prompt and think this would be a fantastic beginning of year activity to use with students. It is such a great way to explore our identities. I love your powerful last stanza!
I decided to focus on how my parents chose my name which was inspired by Debbie Reynold’s song “Tammy”.
Song
inspires
mother sings
story unfolds
Tammi is palm tree
from Hebrew and Greek
officially Tamara
but sometimes Tammi lamb will do
“cottonwoods whisper” on my birthday
Dad plays the song for mom, day I was born
Such lovely imagery, Tammi. :Cottonwoods whisper” is especially evocative for me. I love how this song and story has been a part of your life.
Beautiful and romantic. Really wonderful to hear that Dad played the sone for mom the day you were born.
It’s strikes me as so beautiful how your name is a representation of the love your parents have for each other other.
This got an audible “awww” out of me! I love how the poem itself ‘unfolds’ as the word enters into the narrative. “Tammi lamb” is subtle – and that you chose not to put that in quotes I found interesting, since it’s most likely what other people ‘say’ with your name, yet it was written as standard text. Normalizing it for the reader as well as narrator. That’s a fun aspect to play with.
Mo—thank so much for this “bubble-off” topic and your inspiration poem. (Best part—wondering if the rhyme was the key!) I googled my name and went riding off on a path I didn’t know existed. Funny how this forum opens up those paths…
Father’s Joy
Gayle—according to Google,
it means
“Father rejoiced, or father’s joy”.
I don’t think he so much rejoiced, as
Wondered where the hell I came from…
He was a long-haul truck driver, a quiet man, gone
Most of the time, then sleeping away the miles
when he returned.
I was misplaced, an errant wind,
a mystery to him and to my mother—
I was difficult and tall and full of too many words,
having been dropped off by the milkman,
maybe (Remember milkmen?)
or some book-loving wanderer…
Anyway, he simply didn’t know what to do with me,
on those rare occasions when we tried to talk,
there was so much space between us.
So I went back to my room to read.
And we went on with our lives.
And he went back to the road.
Eventually, the road took him—
cigarettes and bad food were the tools of his trade.
Cancer won.
I never did get to know him.
Or if I was his joy…
Wow, Gayle. I didn’t expect this poem, but I so appreciate your raw honesty today. The lines, “Anyway, he simply didn’t know what to do with me,
on those rare occasions when we tried to talk,
there was so much space between us” really spoke to me. They are so matter-of-fact, yet conhey such longing. This is beautifully written.
Oh my, Gayle! This is so raw and real and honest! What a mysterious start to you. “I was misplaced, an errant wind,” – I like those words flow. These two lines speak to your resilience, I think:
Ooo, Gayle, this is quite tender, very intimate and personal. The “space between us” feels so real. Daughter and father on the road… my dad also was on the road driving from the farm to the city each day… the distance is so real in your poem… “sleeping away the miles.” Good lines! The senses of being “misplaced” feels complex…like an echo reverberating (“errant wind”). Heck of a poem. Really a good poem. Thank you for sharing this. Susie
Gayle, such honesty and a matter-of-fact way of sharing the story behind your name shows your inner power of overcoming the challenges and questions – and this line was so beautifully put:
“or some book-loving wanderer…”
because while there may still be some mystery, the certainty is that you know who you are deep inside – a reader! Thank you for sharing this part of yourself with us!
Gayle- I feel such pain as you close your poem, like you will forever be misunderstood by your father.
Your unexpected version of this poem reiterates how poetry can pull out of us as writers so many feelings we didn’t even know existed.
A beautiful poem….so honored to witness it!
Gayle, I love how the title/name of your poem is also the definition of your name. It creates an expectation in the reader that is only addressed at the end with your question: “if I was his joy…”
The line that really stood out for me is “I was difficult and tall and full of too many words” because it creates such a strong sense of character, of a positive and stubborn person which is in huge contrast to the father who was “a quiet man.”
I love this contrast, and how the poem then becomes a bridge of words between father and daughter.
Lovely.
Q
Gayle, what richness unfolds in this poem. You are a master at telling your story in verse. I would love to read your memoir someday with all the poems you’ve written and yet to write in chronological order. What a gem that would be. That beginning and ending with the joy of Gayle and your father is poignant.
Gayle,
Wow. That’s all . . . Wow.
Good morning Gayle! I sometimes sleep my laptop and in the mornings of Open Write week, I find my tab is open exactly where I needed it to be. I hadn’t had time to finish reading yesterday’s poems and your poem is the one I just read to start my morning. You and I had similar relationships (or lack thereof) with our fathers. Your poem goes straight to my heart.
The last three lines could have easily been describing me and my father. I wonder if they ever realize how much they missed in us. Sending hugs! ??
You are a joy whether he knew it or not!
Thanks, Mo, for your prompt and your model poem! I loved how you went — in your last stanza — from “Maureen” to “modus operandi” to wanting to be “mo’” to being the “transitional metal” that is “essential for life and resistant to corrosion” to finally the last word of the poem: “Mo.” In terms of your prompt, I researched some stuff about my name that I didn’t know (or realize) and then followed the threads that allowed me to create this “construct.” It was fun!
_______________________________
We just finished Lisey’s Story,
and although we enjoyed it,
I couldn’t help but dislike that
the main character was named
after me.
You see what I did there?
Stephen King and I don’t know
each other, and he is older than
me and has, undoubtedly, been
percolating this story and his
protagonist for years, yet I claim
(and still maintain) that his main
character was named
after me.
I’ve had Marvel superheroes,
teen werewolves, and even
a character portrayed by Keanu
Reeves (derived from Shakespeare’s
Henry trilogy) based on me,
so that’s pretty cool.
But I still find it a bit unnerving
when I hear people say my
name in a crowded hallway
or classroom and
someone else turns around
someone else, apparently,
named after me.
And it seems that this is happening
with more frequency
more deliberation,
I mean, King, himself, has
done this before, naming
his main character from
Elevation after me (which was
also, apparently, the name of
the main character in Richard
Matheson’s character in
The Shrinking Man.
So, Dick is in on it, too.)
A copy of a copy and
a shrinking of self:
It is this I feel, until, of
course, I remind myself
that they are the
variants and I am
the original.
(We’ve been watching
Loki, too, which according
to IMDb has eight Scott
Imposters working on the
show.
It seems they’re everywhere
and although their numbers
are not quite legion, yet,
they’re growing.)
You see, “it’s not paranoia
if they’re really after you,”
which is an apt tagline
from the film
Enemy of the State
directed by Tony
Scott.
Scott—I am sure they ARE after you. I always love all the references to every other author/poet in the world…way to make me feel unread!
Scott, I loved every alphabet particle of this. You were speaking my Loki language. Your take on the name prompt is genius. What a delight!
It’s all about us, isn’t it, Scott? Thanks for taking us along on this rabbit hole of Scotts. I’m really enjoying reading everyone’s poems today and see how different the approaches are. Your poem was great fun.
Also, I was tempted to respond with Great Scott!
LOL
Scott-your poem reminded me how as a teacher I am so limited when choosing names as they remind me of students, which is not always preferable. Lol
Scott, my favorite part of this poem is such an affirmation of identity and of the uniqueness of the self:
A copy of a copy and
a shrinking of self:
It is this I feel, until, of
course, I remind myself
that they are the
variants and I am
the original.
All the references to other Scotts in the poem really expand the universe of words we are reading. Yet we keep circling around you as the ‘original’.
A fulfilling and entertaining read!
Q
GOOGLISCIOUS NAMES
So, I figure Google is currying favor,
“Your name means lily; lotus flower,” she coos;
I buy it hook, line, ‘n’ sinker,
who wants a stinker label, an albatross obtuse?
Mama had that.
Did Grandma play like a trickster,
trammeling her with thick German accented syllables,
Bertha Fredericka?
Let me check my flatter-prone browser,
Goog’s Names-R-Us surely knows all;
heck, if I’m a lily or a lotus,
my short little mama might well have been tall.
I’ll be darned if my grandfolks
hadn’t called it right all along:
Bertha rightly means bright,
and the dubious Fredericka — a peaceful ruler – how strong!
So, today I’m signing on
as a Goog’ algorithm-ing minion,
to decode your handle,
declaring you an otter,
a zephyr’s air,
the light of a candle,
or royal heir
in Ethicalela’s High Dominion.
by Susie Morice, July 17, 2021©
Susie, we can always count on you for a rip-roarin’ good poem! I always feel like we are having a chat when I read your writing. I can just hear the words coming out of your midwestern mouth! Now you’ve really got me wondering if there are names with negative connotations, like JERK, MORON, or HE-WHO-PUTS-HIS-FOOT-IN-HIS-MOUTH. Thanks for a fun poem.
“an albatross obtuse?” What a great phrase! My grandmothers had equally albatross-ish manes—Frances Wilhemina and Ines Iona…. My name was no prize, either! Your poem is so REAL. Thanks!
OMG! I love this! What fun. Your personality comes through once again. I don’t know how you deliver such delight every time. Though I adore the title, My favorite line is”Goog’ algorithm-ing minion.” Love! Adore! You’re a wordplay bada$$, Susie.
Susie – delightful take on the prompt, so unique and unexpected! Bertha Fredericka – who’d have guessed what bright and powerful connotations lie in those names! I so see you there as the magical minion, ready to conjure wonders for every moniker here in this royal dominion! Your poetry blooms for sure, Lily-Lotus!
Susie, I truly enjoy your playful use of words! So talented! I find myself rereading sections over and over out loud because they are fun to say and hear.
Susie,
Of course you’re a “Goog’ algorithm-ing minion. What else would you be? I go t trust Google to describe my name correctly. I think Google is worried about rejection if it gives original name meanings.
Susie, I love the fun you share here. That last stanza made me laugh! I’m sure your random-name-meaning-generating algorithm would be the best! Love “royal heir in Ethicalela’s High Dominion”
Thank you, Mo! Today’s prompt and your poem were just what I needed to ease my way back to writing.
I love this part of your poem because it makes me sense your power in being able to claim what’s rightfully yours and be who you want to be:
Your prompt led me to the search that I’ve done many times before of finding meaning in my name. I’ve never been a big fan of Stacey, often misspelled or called Tracey or Lacy or of course confused to be my last name since Joy is always confused as my first name. Hot mess. So I decided to go another route with my poem and this is where I went. Thank you, Mo!
According to His Plan
In the midst
of marital separation
and Vietnam’s War
I imagine he returned home
not himself
to rest his beaten soul.
She believed he still
loved her, wanted her
Flames of doubt and deception
doused in tears of passion
and cocktail parties
toting twin cigarette
lighters.
I was not part of the plan
my mother and father’s
But I would come as a surprise
not an accident
I would not come
As “one who resurrects”
I would not revive
their marriage.
All things worked together
according to God’s
purpose and plan
I would be Stacey
The many variations of Eustace
Anastasia and Eustathios
I would be “reborn”
and “bring order”
I would be a daughter of
light, love and joy
©Stacey L. Joy
Stacey, there is such beauty and understanding in this poem, offering this treasured glimpse of your parents, your very creation. I really love these lines, and the plays on fire and heat:
Stacey — You took Mo’s prompt to a truly deep analysis that I find really poignant. It matters what you write here today… the parsing of a name and the life that spawned it is quite something. I love this poem… a lot.
These two lines really hit hard:
The images of your parents back then…such a real way of seeing this. I’ve often wondered about my own parents and what they might have been thinking when the five of us were born…their lives were so complicated, as were your parents’ lives. Fascinating poem. “light, love and joy” INDEED! You are an inspiration. Thanks, Susie
Stacey,
So good to be with you again in this way, in your words and stories.
I love this story of your becoming and the time, place, and people of you. I am struck by the way you use “would” — this simple past tense, past participle showing the future in the past. Just stunning to think of how this word works as a tether of time.
And love the last line: “light, love and joy” — YES!
Peace,
Sarah
Stacey, your writing is always a joy to read, I think becaue it always feels so true. The background and buildup to your lasat stanza show us exactly who and why you are you. I hope you never stop writing.
Stacey, that reference to Romans 8:28 is perfect here –
All things worked together
according to God’s
purpose and plan
yes, you are such a blessing to others with such beautiful purpose in His plan! I love your words and your message here!
Stacey — Wow! This is so poignant. I found these lines especially moving: I would not come/As “one who resurrects”/I would not revive/ their marriage.
and your final stanza brings hope and “joy”!
“All things worked together/according to God’s /purpose and plan/I would be Stacey …
Such a gorgeous poem!
Two things—the cigarette lighters (such a symbol of adulthood at the time) and the phrase “I would not revive their marriage”. Heartbreaking.
In a word: gorgeous, Stacey. Also searing in its honest truths, embracing that you are created and called forth, indeed, to be a daughter of light, love, and joy (how very apropos!) – we ALL are the beneficiaries. I am so grateful for you, your words, your light.
Stacey, I really adore how you communicate that we (along with a higher power’s guidance in your case) determine how we feel about our names just like we determine how we feel about our existence in this world.
Sarah
\ ˈser-ə
:the wife of Abraham
:the mother of Isaac
I might have uttered such
in CCD, when quizzed by
Mrs. Moretti, mother of Joseph,
as to the liturgy of my name.
Reading misssalettes
as our course texts (never the actual bible),
I was told the stories:
that Sarah obeyed,
that Sarah did what is right,
that Sarah did not give way to fear.
I guess my parents knew this
when they named me:
that a name can raise a child–
and it did, for the most part.
:obedient Sarah
:good Sarah
:ashamed when afraid Sarah.
But now I turn to
the preposition
within the definition:
of
\ əv
:to indicate origin, derivation
:to indicate cause, motive, reason
:to indicate component, part, element
And I ask Sarah
now raising a woman–
of what?
Sarah of what?
of what cause, motive, reason?
of what component, part, element?
And Sarah
responds:
of poetry.
Sarah
\ ˈser-ə
:the writer of poetry
:the reader of poetry
Much better.
(Please update dictionary.com)
I am truly moved by this paragraph:
It is so true that names can weigh on us, something put upon us and we must carry. What a flashback your poem gave me to my own upbringing – I am a former Catholic, schooled in parochial schools, and had TOTALLY forgotten about missalettes and the idea of “liturgy of my name” – wow!
This stand-alone, brief little para is so precious:
Yes!
And Sarah
responds:
Sarah — /’ser-ə — I was quite taken by the careful examination of the of. Thinking about how we fit our names…how you handle the descriptive vs the prescriptive nature of naming…that’s really deep stuff. Love that. And I LOVE thinking of you as
Change that to “writer of FINE poetry”!!
Yes, ‘update dictionary.com” indeed! Unique and inventive!!! Hugs, Susie
Sarah, of Ethical ELA, of poetry, of writing, of teaching, of balancing a gazillion things with apparent ease…
I love what you have done with your name poem today. Taking the time to go into the “of” gives more depth to the meaning of your name. So much more than a name!
These questions beg of us all to dig deeper into our who, what, why, of our lives.
????????
FIrst, I love your dictionary-like approach to the poem, Sarah. Your second stanza is so clever and brought me right back into my 4th grade CCD classroom. Mother of Joseph- loved it! Missalettes not bibles- spot on. But the Sarah raising a woman is my favorite part. The shift in tone here is just perfect. Your last line- well that shows us who is in charge!
Sarah,
I love the questions you ask regarding your name:
And I ask Sarah
now raising a woman–
of what?
Sarah of what?
of what cause, motive, reason?
of what component, part, element?
Your answer if perfect and beautiful!:
And Sarah
responds:
of poetry.
Oh, yes. The Sarah of poetry. I cannot think of a better service for you, Sarah… grateful for it1
Sarah, you will always be “of poetry” to me. What a beautiful way of seeing again, of forging your path, of defining self. And to do it all within a dictionary format! Rarely do I spend much consideration on prepositions. I loved this!
Sarah-Dang! How true is this? As we age, we reflect on what our calling is. Our purpose. Our legacy. I love how you use this poem to follow the journey to your personal discovery.
Oh, wow, Sarah of Poetry! That is deep. I’m glad you explored your name today. “that a name can raise a child–” Wow. Poetry helps us learn so much from our pasts and recover into a bright future.
Sarah,
I love this!
It feels like a condensed autobiography.
I love how you break apart the definition and apply to your life.
My favorite part (if I had to name one . . . )
How to follow Mo Daley’s clever tribute
when my name, too, is
Maureen?
not Marine
not Mo
often Reenie
usually Maureen
that’s me
Hidden meaning of names
reveals Maureen
of the sea, dark-skinned, wished-for, rebellious, and bitter
the Irish form of Mary
I love each of these so much!
though I am more of the mountains,
quite pale in complexion,
prefer bittersweet
Imagine
each of us
WISHED-FOR, desired, loved, and cradled
plus
REBELLIOUS, questioning, hoping and daring for more
oh, I love that!
Surprisingly,
many have sung about Maureen,
Sade says I am her best friend
Jim Reeves calls me his angel
Black 47 claims I’m givin’ all the old men heart attacks
Fountains of Wayne doesn’t appreciate my stories,
asks me to keep the details to myself
Eddie Money insists I’m the girl from his dreams
John Prine insightfully adds,
“Maureen, Maureen,
There’s a hole in between where we come from
And the things that I’m thinking
Ain’t necessary the things that I say”
Yes, I guess I am rambling, and
it ain’t necessary the things that I say,
though I do find it fun
to play with words
Thanks, Mo!
Maureen,
What a joy this poem is to read and experience. Thank you.
I was smiling and singing your name here:
Makes me want to dust off my Sade CD — do I even have a CD player anymore? Okay, I will ask Google.
Peace,
Sarah
Aah, Maureen — you were having fun with this poem and we, too, are having fun reading it. Especially, I love the references to the musical Maureens out there…amen for John Prine (my fave, you know).
The lines
just really said so much about our imaginations…. John Lennon would’ve approved.
Love it! Susie
Susie—you beat me to it! I, too, was going to comment on those very lines. Lovely.
Maureen, I love this! Your use of caps is perfect. I’m so happy you looked at songs with Maureen. I tried to do that, but I just wasn’t feeling it. You have done it so much better than I ever could have. And I need to listed to that Black 47 song. Side note, I was named for my mom’s neice, who she helped raise. She went by Reenie. I’m thrilled to hear that’s one of your nicknames.
Maureen —
I love the way you took your shared name and made it totally your own! Also love all the music references! So many wonderful lyrics to show Maureen!
Maureen- so clever how you included lines from songs! After all, they influence society’s thoughts almost subconsciously. As a person with the name Maureen being sung about on the radio, you can’t help but get to thinking…
Maureen, what a sweet rambling tribute to your (and Mo’s) name. That is surprising to me too, that there are so many songs about Maureen.
And as always, you say something beautiful, meaningful and teach me a lesson like this:
Imagine
each of us
WISHED-FOR, desired, loved, and cradled
plus
REBELLIOUS, questioning, hoping and daring for more
oh, I love that!
Yes, even if my name isn’t Maureen, it’s a great thought for all.
Thank you, Mo, for this prompt. Your poem was a great model too.
Naming Rights
Who owns the naming rights?
My name was one of
the few things my father gave me.
Somehow his grandmother
Kathryn or Katje,
Who I later learned
Held seances, whatever…
Somehow her name
Morphed into
Katrina for me.
Blocky letters spell out
On a brad-clad manila envelope,
An early elementary school momento,
Not Katrina but Trina –
T-R-I-N-A.
It is still who I am when
The aunts call or a cousin.
When a forward-thinking teacher
Asked what I wanted to be called,
(Who knew such liberties existed?)
Goddess-like, I would be Diane.
(My grandmother who had showed me how
To take eggs from the nest called
Me Diane).
At home such a notion was tantamount
To the time I traded a ripe red apple
For a piece of penny peanut candy.
“It would be confusing…”
Well, we certainly wouldn’t want that.
I was Anirtak to my cousin Nibor,
With whom I share the fondest
Memories of spring-loaded chicks
And bunnies and jelly beans
And Easter grass and dresses
Of scratchiness.
In junior high I was Kate to some,
To others in high school I was Katarack.
Then, air and water would come together
To create Katrina in 2005,
Menacing, destructive, and doomy.
Now everyone knows my name.
These days, when finding the peanut butter
In the pantry becomes a half-hour adventure saga,
Or forgetting where I parked the car at Target
Takes me on an unplanned tarmac tour,
When it’s all I can do to get up from the couch
To empty the overstuffed dishwasher,
A voice, my own, urges,
“Come on, Kat,”
And I am at home with myself.
I own the rights to it.
Katrina,
I love this. Like you, I explored the permutations of how my name has morphed over the years. I love the backwards names and the attempts to take ownership of what you are called. In particular, I love the easy conversational tone–it just pulled me in and I was listening to a story with rapt attention. Thank you for sharing.
“Come on, Kat,” – how I love that your own voice reigns supreme! Such a fabulous journey you led me on, how others messed up your name, twisted it their way, played with it, how (unfortunately!) a major hurricane cements it in everyone’s brain, and yet ultimately, it is how we name ourselves, isn’t it? Love this, and love the name Katrina. Beautiful.
Katrina, somehow your name feels exotic to me, but throw in a seance and WOW! I really like your approach looking at how our name is different for so many of those around us. I remember the first time a former principal called me Mo. I thought, “Who does he think he is?!?” I adore the voice of power and authority in your last stanza. You go, girl!
Katrina — There is so much strength in this poem! To “own the rights” is a powerful ending.
Your lines reminded me of my own father giving me my name…one of the things no one can take away from me…that really resonates with me.
And I loved thinking about the teacher who granted you the “liberties” with your name…the very idea of choosing… how cool is that!?
I love the biograph-ics of your poem. Thank you, Susie
Katrina,
I loved how you explored all the variations of your name and the empowerment you felt from being able to chose what you would be called.
When a forward-thinking teacher
Asked what I wanted to be called,
(Who knew such liberties existed?)
Goddess-like, I would be Diane.
“A voice, my own, urges,
“Come on, Kat,”
And I am at home with myself.
I own the rights to it.”
perfection. All those permutations, and then to cap it off!
Katrina: Love all these intriguing variations of your name, and that your father gave it to you (as my dad gave me mine). I love the exotic backwards version! My friends and I did that also, and my father had stories of doing so as a child (he went by his middle name, Gordon, and so that became Nodrog which I find hysterical to this day, and may need to use in a story, somehow). If it’s any comfort: I got a lot of grief after Hurricane Fran wrecked parts of NC in 1996. Not quite on the same level, but…still commiseration. Your ending of owning the rights to Kat in the voice you use for yourself is perfect.
Yes! I love it!
My sister, our two closest girlfriends, and I call ourselves (Alemap, Yecats, Latsyrk, and Nwad) by reverse spellings. It’s been so long that I didn’t have to think out the letters to type it here. Wow! Who knew other silly children did the same thing!
This poem = POWER!
?it, Anirtak
From,
Yecats ?
Happy July Open Write! I didn’t exactly discuss the origin of my name, but more about all of the names of my life.
I have had five names in my life so far;
It has changed when I enter a new phase of
life or identity. My first name has remained
consistent, but strangely, I rarely hear it, given my
career choice. Cara, it sounds like a stutter cut
Short by a pause. My mom called me Carushka in
Moments of silliness. Cara Marie West, five
Syllables, it always felt rather flat, even though
I’ve met very few Cara’s—especially my age.
When I student taught, I was Miss West and
The expected plays on my name manifested
On student tongues. This was short-lived as I
Married just after college, becoming
Cara Marie Fortey. Cara Fortey, as I got my
Master’s degree and Mrs. Fortey started to teach. All
of the imagined plays on my name never really happened—
Instead it was plays on numbers, dropping off the
Title, and emphasizing the last syllable. This lasted
For twenty-one years, when I became brave enough
To show my sons how I could stand up for myself. The
Mrs. me dropped the “r” and became Ms., though
Only the observant really acknowledge the absence
And most still just call me Fortey. At home I also became
Momma, a name I treasure more than all the others
With the cries in the night, the sweet hugs and touches,
The grown boys leaning on me with affection. Someday
I will just be Cara again, but I don’t necessarily look
Forward to the day. Then I will be without my
Children, both truly mine and those I love just a hair
Less. My names have labeled me as girl, student, wife,
Teacher, mother, but somehow just me.
Inspired by “Names” by Teresa Mei Chuc
You’ve got me thinking about how many different names I have been called in my life! Isn’t it strange how rarely we get to hear our first names as teachers? Even colleagues would address me by my last name, frequently. Love the tender diminutive of your mother’s “Carushka.”
Cara, your poem strikes me as sweet, but strong. I can almost feel your resilliency as your names change throughtout the poem. The movement and progression in your poem feel very natural to me. Lovely.
All those names—each of value, each a time of life. It’s taking me back to the variations on my own theme…
Cara,
These bittersweet lines really moved me:
With the cries in the night, the sweet hugs and touches,
The grown boys leaning on me with affection. Someday
I will just be Cara again, but I don’t necessarily look
Forward to the day.
I really love the way the names you have been assigned show your progression through life from child, to teacher, to wife and mother. Beautiful!
I love this deep dive not only into name but labels and roles in our lives (and that we control which ones we emphasize, reinforce). Thanks for this today ❤️ We share a middle name!
These lines stand out to me: “Mrs. me dropped the ‘r’ and became Ms., though/Only the observant really acknowledge the absence” and “With cries in the night, the sweet hugs and touches,/The grown boys leaning on my with affection.”
This was a pleasure to read, thank you, Cara!
Cara,
Wow your name poem blew me away. I love how you talk about each name you have had. As you know I’ve gone by many different names, and I was actually considering writing like this. Then I thought about it and was think of writing along the lines of Emily’s poem. I may just have to mix it up and make it mine.
My favorite line today
I love how your poem examines the shifting identities you have inhabited over the years.
A name is a changing label you wear: it describes your job, your function in life, and the relationship others have to you.
My favorite phrase is, “I became brave enough to show my sons how I could stand up for myself.”
I strive to do that for my children, too. Lead by example and be brave!
Thank you for sharing such a deeply thoughtful poem.
Q
Mykkisu
It’s my
Key,
Sue.
Mike, Gary Michael, but Mike
Eddisu, just Eddisu
Edward
Nancy Susan
Beatnik grandparents
Not Japanese
Not Korean
Not Polish
Not Russian
Just Okie
Just me
Only me
Singular
Unique
Myk
Mykki
Mukey
Mitsubishi
Mickey Mouse
Tiramisu
Mucus Membrane
Cute when I was 5
Not cute at 50
Mikey doesn’t like everything.
Mikey hates everything.
He likes it!
Hey, Mikey!
Mikey likes it! Knowing the allusion shows my age, but I like it, too. These poems about names send me on guilt trips. How often have I been the one to tease, to not take time to learn to pronounce correctly, to assume I know what I don’t knowS?
Still, the fact that you can write with both humor and hurt reminds us to make room for students to do the same. Sometimes, we don’t know what we think till we read what we write. So, Mikey, thanks!
Although my name is not as unusual as yours, I have spent a fair amount of time spelling and pronouncing it for so many people. I so fully feel your frustration with the process and those who just want to make it easier for themselves. I find that, having had to spell/pronounce my own name so often, I work very hard to say my student’s names correctly. Thank you for so succinctly expressing the experience of having an unusual name.
Such a gift of a name – and such a lame world in which we live, where the expectation is for you to respond to a word/name that others find easier to say! I hear your frustration through so many very clever words – and love the allusion to the Mikey cereal ads! (Yes, I’m old enough to know…)
I love that your name is Okie, Mykkisu! You’ve expressed yourself so well here,
Just me
Only me
Singular
Unique
You’ve really drawn my attention to how we try to classify names and make sense of them in or own little worlds. I think this would be a great way to introduce yourself to a class.
Mykkisu — Your poem was totally fun. Right down to the Mikey commercial at the end. I just loved how this name-play feels quite different at 50. The “Just Okie” is priceless. Wonderful poem. Thank you! Susie
Love this stanza. There is so much truth here.
Just me/Only me/Singular/Unique
I also really loved the humor in this poem. I remember Mikey!
Mo, I love these lines in thinking about how peoples ideas of the name have their way of pushing on identity formation. And this made me smile in its truth:
Also, I like the sound of “mention that Maureen also means” — lovely alliteration.
Thanks for hosting today, and you look fabulous holding that book next to your smile!
Peace,
Sarah
I have written about my name before but never in poetic form. It was fun to think about my name in a more creative way. I also dove deeper into the uses of the plant after which I am named. I decided to try an acrostic poem. I have been sitting with it for a while.
High on the Scottish moor, I sit, an
Evergreen flowering plant of pink and purple flowers,
A symbol of Scotland who married a Scott.
Tied to the notions of admiration and solitude,
Heather sits in a field of sturdy stems
Eagerly creating ropes, baskets, brooms, and mattresses and
Relying on them to support, bond, and care for others.
Oh, Heather!
I love an acrostic. There is such comfort in familiarity. And I find that I appreciate poem forms especially when my life feels so out of sorts. So thank you for this form and for this sense of place “High on the Scottish moor” — feels like a mini vacation in these lines.
Sarah
Heather, I had to read this as soon as I saw the word Scottish. Love your word play in “who married a Scott.” My favorite line: “Heather sits in a field of sturdy stems.” Not only does it evoke the plant, I can imagine those around you adding to your strength.
Heather, you had me at Scottish moor. I just love how you tied your name into the plant and ran with it. I felt like I needed a blanket and hot cup of tea while reading your poem.
Love that you used an acrostic, and how you offer such strong, important human traits simply by delving deeply into reflections on the beautiful evergreen for which you were named. Gorgeous! Love this especially – “Heather sits in a field of sturdy stems”
“Heather sits in a field of sturdy stems
Eagerly creating ropes, baskets, brooms, and mattresses and
Relying on them to support, bond, and care for others.”
I can see you there, busily working. What a beautiful vision you give us!
Heather,
Love the direction you took with this poem and the acrostic form works really well here. My favorite line: Heather sits in a field of sturdy stems. I love the strength this evokes.
So beautifully done, Heather! I love acrostics – I think they are sadly underused. Yours is evidence of their power…”a symbol of Scotland who married a Scott”…fascinating interconnectedness! Powerful metaphor of Heather desiring to be a support and a help to others, too. I can see this done up in calligraphy with a little illustration of heather in the corner, framed and hanging on the wall…
Tables turned! I teach mythology and have each student write their own “creation story” of their birth (as much as they can find out via family, friends, as well as internet historical research for the day they were born), and have them include their name origin. I love the ‘attitude’ that come across in your poem, Mo, and (like others) this is my favorite line: “She can be mo’ if she wants.” The double meaning and the third person in that are just so sassy!
Cheers to Denises!
We are actually
few and far between*
so we have an instant bond
when we meet
“Hi Denise, it’s Denise!”
And we know exactly who we mean.
Cheers to Denises!
From the Greek Dionysus
God of Wine
Teacher of Viticulture
The Great Bacchus
Party God of all party gods
drunken debauchery our reverence.
Cheers to Denises!
Whose revelers appreciate
art & literature & song & dance
We are twice born
a dual nature of joy & celebration
but also raging drunken riots
a mysterium tremendum et fascinans.
Cheers to Denises!
Direct descendants of Zeus, Cronus, Uranus
Semele, Persephone, Demeter, Rhea, Gaea
Each a metaphor for time and place
that was once but is always
so long as we remain
our name.
*What luck EELA has two!
Hi Denise, it’s Denise! Thank you for this great take on our name. “Cheers to Denises”
This is powerful:
Enough said!
Denise,
Love the repetition of “Cheers to Denises” as a welcoming invitation and affirmation. Such a sense of belonging in so many lines but especially with your use of “our” and familial ending in “descendants of”. The Denises are sisters!
Peace,
Sarah
I love your “Cheers to Denise” attitude! The exploration of dualities is just perfect in this poem. Well done!
This is wonderful! Love how you imagined two Denises meeting –
We love our EELA Denises – and their name stories! Now we know who the real
partiers are in this group. Your repeating line – cheers to Denises – celebrates the very essence of Dionysus, holding up a glass of wine to toast the celebrated friends!
<cheers!>?
My middle name is Denise. My husband turned it into “Denise and de-nephew”. But now I know its origin! Thank you!
Yes – that awful joke (if you know the actual joke behind that line). And I’m Polish, so you know, it seemed like everyone I met had to tell me that joke as though they were the first. I came up with various responses to it, including getting up and walking out of the room after the joke-teller would refuse to not tell the joke even after I had said, “Yes, I’ve heard it a million times.” Finally, I settled on pretending I’d never heard it, laughing uproariously, then saying, “That’s so cool! Now, let’s make fun of your name and heritage! I’m sure we can think of something!” Though I had to suffer through the joke one more time, I’m guessing it would be the last time that person would tell it. Needless to say, it doesn’t happen as often these days with more cultural awareness and sensitivities. Still, I’ve got that one in my back pocket…
Denise, we are lucky indeed! I loved the revelry and rejoicing in your text! The Latin phrase fits so perfectly here. Thanks for this!
Down Tara Lane
Writing about my name takes me back to my most unforgettable memories from childhood through adulthood.
Thara on the birth certificate
Explained as meaning STAR in India’s most ancient language, Sanskrit, the language of Indian scriptures.
An early childhood explanation that I recall gave me starbursts of excitement, as I also loved to look up at the night sky and look for stars with my mom and big sis at a young age.
Once Thara was unable to be pronounced by my teachers and classmates on my very first day of kindergarten all because of the double letter combo “Th,” one can only imagine my utter disappointment and broken heart.
With a heavy heart, went home and explained to my very traditional and Indian mom that it might just be best to go by Tara.
A starry path cleared for me soon after.
My sister found pins at stores and gas stations with the name Tara on them, and my first religious camp’s cabin was located on Tara lane, off the Blue Star Highway.
Family called me Thara, at school I was Tara. Life was starry again. Until, I met the first Tarah. Then many mixed up my name and called me Tarah as well, and would blame it on the same excuse every time, “Sorry, my good friend’s name is Tarah.”
Fast forward to high school, where I made such a wonderful friend who said,”Tara, I better hear you correct anyone who gets your name wrong. You deserve it and it’s your right.”
Life was starry again. Still went by Tara at school, Thara at home.
Learned that Tara was also Irish for Tara Hill, where Irish kings were coronated.
Was gifted a miniature carved idol and was told it was Goddess Tara, as worshipped in Buddhism.
And now after researching for this prompt, learned that Tara in South Africa means strong Rock.
How is it that my name seems to drive my soul, even my life? Or does my soul and life drive my name? Every meaning of Tara seems so intertwined with who I am today.
One who loves to achieve
A rock
A queen
An Angel of the hill
A new king (I was told by a numerologist that I was a male in many past lives)
Stars in the sky
A constellation
An ocean goddess
A strong rock
While in reality, I live by two names, Thara & Tara, they both thankfully mean the same. Meanings that make me proud, caring, and more loving. Meanings of Thara, meanings of Tara, that encourage me to be a strong rock for those I love, as well as mold me into craving such loyalty in life, loyalty from others, as strong as a rock.
Down Tara Lane
Oh, Thara,
Beautiful images and stream-of-conscious writing down Tara Lane! I love all you have discovered and lived regarding your names. “A strong rock” yes. I love “craving such loyalty in life”
Thara,
So appreciate you sharing the stories of your name and the people and places shaping the sound and shape of its meaning for you. I was sitting beside you looking up at the stars, and then this line
This makes me think of the energy and labor it takes to correct others wishing they’d just ask or put in a little more effort.
Peace,
Sarah
Wow, super neat Sarah. Thank you. As a teacher, I always try to make that extra effort. Some of my students roll their eyes at that extra effort, while others appreciate it. I’ll just keep trying, no matter what, to get names right.
My heart breaks at the image of a kindergarten teacher not knowing how to pronounce your name – at not finding out HOW to pronounce it before you entered the classroom! Oh my goodness. But, you land on your feet, strong and fine. This beautiful line captures your resilience:
“Life was starry again. Still went by Tara at school, Thara at home.”
Tara! I’m dying right now! How long have I known you? Worked with you? And even traveled to another country with you, not even knowing your real name! I’m blown away right now. I loved the Tara Lane title and imagery. I love that your sister found you pins ant the roadside gas station. I always looked, but rarely found anything with Maureen, much less Mo on it. I loved learning about Thara and Tara.
That’s funny Mo, I could’ve sworn I told you. Especially after you so appropriately nick named me “Tharita.”
This sentence: “An early childhood explanation that I recall gave me starbursts of excitement, as I also loved to look up at the night sky and look for stars with my mom and big sis at a young age.” What a gift…. Too bad the school took it away from you. I love the softness of Thara.
Thank you Gayle.
Mo, I love your poem. What a lot we can learn about people from their name stories. I’m looking forward to today’s poems. I found some new things on Google today about my name too. Thank you for sharing the prompt today!
Denise, mon amour,
You are loved in
English or French
or Greek
regardless of
what your name
suggests.
My mother and father
(if he paid any attention),
chose a name that was
popular in the fifties.
The run was short-lived,
not like the
longer-lasting
popularity of Lisa–
the other name on Mom’s
short list,
which did not
make the final cut
on my birth certificate.
My name sake:
Dionysius–
Greek god of wine,
and all things wine-ish–
like the grape harvest
and winemaking.
It doesn’t stop there though.
Dionysius was busy.
He is also the
god of fertility,
orchards and fruit,
vegetation,
drunkenness
insanity,
chaos
ritual madness,
ecstasy,
festivals,
parties
and the
theater.
I don’t think my mom
chose Denise because she needed
a daughter named after a Greek
god with a French twist.
There was no familial
or cultural ribbon
tying a bow on this name.
Denise was
a loved
little one
needing a name,
the sixth in a home
full of kids needing
names.
Today I live in a land
where my name was
mostly unknown before
I arrived.
I answer to Denise,
as well as
Dennis,
Denies,
Deeneez
and anything
similar.
Still loved.
This —->
“Today I live in a land
where my name was
mostly unknown before
I arrived”
Love that
Kevin
Of course I have to respond! : ) I know we’ve had this conversation in another space, but funny because Lisa is my little sister’s name and Maureen is my next older siblings name (eight kids total). And here is that same triumvirate – of sorts! I can totally identify (of course) with the mispronunciations. As important as psychology says it is to get names right, I will likewise respond to anything close – I am most often misheard as saying “Cindy.” And how the emphasis can shift from the second to the first syllable is something I always enjoy hearing so don’t mind at all. Close counts!
Denise, that’s a lot of frivolity and passion associated with your name, almost too much for a baby to carry (but fun for a college student). I love the “loved one needing a name” as it pares it down to exactly that – naming someone we love with something we love (for the sound or the style or the newness).
“Still loved.” What a great ending. You’re right. Everyone’s name stories are interesting. It must be strange to live in a country that doesn’t know your name. Sometimes, that’s fun though. Mitchell is a tough one for some folks in Europe.
Denise,
This is a lovely zooming, zooming in type poem moving from the world wide web to you home to the naming of gods to the name of a kid who needed a name…
This moved me as one in need of name, too, and indeed you are a “loved little one” — so appreciate you.
Sarah
So much to love about your poem today, Denise! I really liked your deep dive into Dionysus. I kept wondering how much of that you could relate to. I also loved the mispronounciation part. We lived in France for a short time. No one could pronounce my first or last name. It was fun to see what they came up with.
This made me laugh out loud:
So funny!
I love your last para, the last line! “Still loved.” No matter how one calls you! Beautiful, Denise!
Denise,
I love every part of this, but here’s my favorite because it was so unexpected and random but so logical at the same time:
I don’t think my mom
chose Denise because she needed
a daughter named after a Greek
god with a French twist.
Plus I love all the revelry of Dionysus – and know that you got all of his quieter and better-behaved blessings and not the troublesome, hell-raising ones. This part really made me laugh as I think of the stark contrasts to the sweet, quiet, tender hearted Denise I know!
I love your name – and Deneez and Denies and Dennis, too!
Denise, what a delight of a poem, from the wild ride with Dionysius to being the sixth child needing a name. This line struck me as especially intriguing: “There was no familial or cultural ribbon tying a bow on this name.” In my mind, I could see a beloved baby girl in her parents’ arms. Denise is a poetic name, perfect for you! The mispronunciations at the end crack me up although I know how wearisome it is when folks don’t get it right (having been called “France” as a child…)
Mo, first off, you’re the second Maureen I’ve met who went by the nickname “Mo”–what a great nickname! I had such a good time with this prompt…I have written about my name before, but I never Googled it. This was a pretty interesting research dive! Thanks for the fun this morning!
Digging Deep–A Riff on “Julie”
My 19-year-old mom,
immersed in French’s romantic sound,
thought “jolie” would be
the perfect name
for her coming daughter.
Fearing mispronunciation,
she settled on the English “Julie,”
thinking (because of the intriguing
advent of the name in her mind?)
it would be unique
I would stand out and shine
with such a name
Apparently, my mom
failed to consult The List–
the name Julie actually peaked
at #10 in 1971–
the year I was born.
With 4 other Julies in my graduating class,
one other in my cabin at camp
(where she–much more popular–became
“Julie the homo sapien,” while I was
relegated to “Julie the homosexual”),
I learned to pause before turning
when someone called “Julie!”
knowing they probably wouldn’t
be calling to me,
but one of the more desirable Julies.
Eventually, I found my tribe,
where “Jules” became a treasured
nickname…or “Julius J. Squirrel,”
or “Jewels” (fun because it fit with my initials JEM),
or even “Tree,” from a young friend who
couldn’t pronounce Julie
Google tells me that JULIE, in Illinois,
is a utility-locating service
“Call Before You Dig,” their website urges.
Could this be prophetic for me in some way?
An arrow confirming my direction?
I am a locator of knowing and understanding,
sometimes buried down deep. sometimes
where you least expect it
I can help you find it, and gently,
carefully, dig it out–
if you call me.
Julie, I love the things you learned on Google, and how these facts have fit into you and your personality–“locator of knowing and understanding” is beautiful. I was also struck by all the sweet knicknames: “Jules” “Julius J. Squirrel,” or “Jewels” and “Tree.”
You really conveyed an important thought about how you felt the rankings of the Julies. That passage was very poignant and meaningful: “I learned to pause before turning
when someone called ‘Julie!'”
A poem well done, Julie.
“Call before you dig” has such cool annotations for the name ….
Kevin
Julies were always the cool, prety girls growing up. What I would have given to be a Julie! I love your last two stanzas. Every real Illinoisian knows you HAVE to call JULIE before you dig. The last stanza made me LOL.
What a fun and clever find on Google – JULIE, call before you dig! Fabulous! This stanza is so succinctly sad and revealing:
Ouch!
Loved your poem!
Julie, your poem is so much fun! I appreciate the raw truth and the humor mixed in with some unbelievable info that we all should keep in mind! “Call Before You Dig” I am still laughing at that. I think I want people to dig before they call me. LOL.
Fun!!! My coworker shares your name and of course we call her Jules!
Thanks, Mo, for reminding us of this important way to learn more about our students. It has always been a favorite of mine. Though I’ve written about my names before, this time, I found different “feelings” I obviously have been carrying for decades about my given and maiden names: Anna Jamar Small.
Dialogue on Names
I carry three names about which they tease me
How can such names be ones that please me?
“See, they called me Anna Banana, like the fruit monkeys eat.
They call me that again — they’ll be the one to be beat!
They call me Aunt Jemima”.
“Why don’t that make you proud?
She made the very best pancakes.
Ask anyone in the crowd.
Be dear, Anna means ‘grace and favor’.
Yes, that’s a name you can savor.”
“Anna, I know what about Jamar?
Is it made of letters they just pulled from jar?”
“No, my child, you carry the names of others;
Of your dear departed grandmothers.
Though neither any longer walk this sod
They both were devoted women of God.
“And Jamar, is my mother’s name
In that name is no blame.
She was named for her aunts, Jane and Martha.
There’s heritage in your name, not shame!.
You walk on their shoulders; you don’t carry a weight.
Will they be proud on the other side,
When you pass through the Golden Gate?”
“But what about my last name, Small?
I’m not Small; I’m tall.
They always tease about my names, all three.
What does that say about me?”
It says you’re special and you can show it now.
You’ve been favored with your names. Carry them with grace.
When they tease you, forgive, and continue the race.
Live up to your names, and you can take a bow.
Anna, I love how you have explored all of your names. I’m the youngest of 9 and don’t have a middle name- I guess they ran out! My favorite stanza is the one about your mother’s name. It’s a reminder that maybe we should look more deeply into unfamiliar names. LOve your rhymes, as always!
Anna, I don’t know what it is about name teasing that sticks with us for a lifetime! Mine was Haynes – (Hanes underwear). I still think of the playground taunting when teachers were out of earshot! There is such steadfast resolution at the end of your poem:
What does that say about me?”
It says you’re special and you can show it now.
You’ve been favored with your names. Carry them with grace.
Such an important message for all
of us! We are special and have been favored with our names!
Anna, I’m so glad you wrote about these feelings with all your names. I am convinced no matter how innocuous the name, someone in the middle grades will make fun of it. I love the story of your grandmother Jamar–wow. So you carry three people with grace with that middle name. I guess it would be your great, great aunts Mary and Jane, right? Very special!
Beautiful:
Yes, indeed~
Perfect!
Kevin
I’m sorry you endured teasing over your name. I love the name Anna. You are the winner of the teasing session though with such a beautiful name to grow into and carry as an adult.
Woven throughout this fun rhyming poem is the idea of being true to your names, yourself, your family… as you explicitly say – “Carry them with grace” I absolutely love that your mother’s name was a combination of two beloved aunts, what a gift your grandmother gave to her and those two aunts! (And now, you, too!) love that!
“You’ve been favored with your names. Carry them with grace.” Wise advice to us all…although it may take us a long time to get to that point of grace with ourselves and legacy namesakes! We DO walk on their shoulders. Your names are lovely and the history of Jamar particularly compelling. I note that you (like me) have written about your name before and have (like me) uncovered different feelings about it – after all, life is a constant process of becoming and being; our names are there at the core of who we are. Your rhyme and your wit are light, and your content, mighty.
Mo, I love this prompt! Believe it or not, it’s the second site I’ve read this morning featuring poetry examining “What’s in a name”? Talk about a call to write…first let me say I love the Irishness of your name and the gorgeous meaning, “star of the sea” – hardly gets more poetic. I loved following the trail of your thoughts as you turned your name round and round and defined yourself. A while back I wrote a post about my name. Today I rework into something more poetic – thank you for this inspiration.
What’s In a Name
Early morning
before the dawn
as first birds begin to sing
I light a candle
on my table
where I sit
by its wavering halo
to write
about my name.
In the beginning
I didn’t even know
it was my name.
My kindergarten teacher, Mrs. Brown,
called the roll:
Frances?…Frances?
She finally narrowed her eyes at me:
Aren’t you Frances?
Sitting before her at a tiny table, I blinked:
No. I’m Fran.
An inauspicious start
to my academic career.
The first shaky foot
on the lifepath
of learning who I am.
I didn’t love it at first,
my name.
Early on
(sometime after kindergarten,
that is)
Daddy told me
it was after his mother,
Ruby Frances
Grandma
my consummate storyteller
avid letter-writer
daily diarist
tireless reader
devout defender-angel
Grandma
On the day you were born
I stood at the nursery window
and cried
you looked
like a little angel
Grandma
My life’s memories
begin in her arms
on her lap
being rocked
in time to the beating of her heart
and the cadence of her voice
singing
Jesus loves me, this I know
or reading reading reading
until I could recite
the rhyming stories
by heart, page by page
long before I went to school
Grandma
who read the entire Bible aloud
several times over
to Granddaddy
who could not read it
for himself
Grandma
who was named
after her beloved Papa,
Francis
a very religious man
who nevertheless hung himself
on a tree in the woods
in front of her childhood home
when she was just sixteen
—Grandma,
I asked, when I was around sixteen
—Did you know
that the name Frances
means ‘free’
or ‘one who is from France?’
We talked about it in French class
today
—Does it? I didn’t know.
I loved taking French
—You took French? Really?
—Yes. Such a beautiful language
I did not tell her
we got to choose French names
for class
and I chose to be Renée
without realizing
that it means born again
or that the kids back in elementary school
could never get our name right:
Hi, France! they’d cheerfully greet me.
I’d grit my teeth:
It is Fran
or Frances.
Not ‘France’.
I am not
a country.
No one else in school
had my name.
It wasn’t cute or popular
since maybe 1886
not to mention
the spelling problem
such as on labels
from the pharmacy:
Francis
Does the world at large
not understand
or care
that the feminine spelling
is with an e?
I wanted to hurl
those little orange bottles
through the window
along with my problematic name
until the day I was teaching
a group of little Spanish-speaking girls
how to read English
and one of them grabbed my badge
to decode my name:
Fran
Very good! That’s really my nickname.
It’s short for Frances.
Ooooo, breathed my little student.
That sounds just like ‘princess’.
In all my years
I’d never thought of that
even though Princess Diana’s middle name
was Frances
and I have to laugh a little now
because Daddy always said
You ought to take Spanish instead of French,
it would be more useful.
He couldn’t have been more right, alas.
He often was.
I wonder what he’d say
if he knew that my DNA tests
show a dollop of French ancestry
that he very likely
passed down…
and as I’ve been writing
the sun has risen
bright and ever-new
a red dragonfly
lands on the little statue of Saint Francis
by my front steps
never minding that I’m not Catholic,
nesting birds find sanctuary here
on my porch
along with a host of small creatures
seeking a resting place
even the occasional stray cat in need.
The candle’s wavering halo
is invisible now
in the sunlight spilling
through the windows
as I write about my name
this inheritance
I’ve come to treasure
at last
and it just so happens
that the candle’s fancy label says
chèvrefeuille
French for “honeysuckle”
the flower and scent
of happiness
of hardiness
of devotion
and everlasting bonds
like a legacy of love
and unseen angels
that are
always near.
*******
(Note: I’ve seen red dragonflies for the first time this summer – they’re stunning and in some cultures, they represent the sacred.)
Fran, you’ve captured this moment in time so eloquently (I am in the room with you, your candle, and the rising sun). Your connection with your grandmother is much like my own – what a special thread that binds. And the moment with the Spanish-speaking girls – what a memory to treasure.
Wow, Fran! I’m so glad you took the time to work on this poem today. I first read it on my phone, but had to come back to it on the computer. It’s just stunning. I didn’t expect the path you took while considering your name, but it was so easy for me to relate to and follow. To me, your poem is a perfect tapestry. Well done. Such a joy to read this morning.
Fran,
the impact of your grandmother in your life is so clear here:
my consummate storyteller
avid letter-writer
daily diarist
tireless reader
devout defender-angel
Grandma
She sure wove some strong legacy genes in you – you have the writing soul like hers! I never told you, but my first-born was going to be named Frances Lauren and called Fran after a childhood friend. The plan changed at the last minute, but I have always loved the name Fran and
love that your student heard the Princess in there! The red dragonfly is just the perfect kiss on the statue – a morning angel-style cheer from departed loved ones whose name you share!
As always, you weave humor and heart tugs so masterfully!
Fran, I loved reading every word of this masterful tribute to your grandmother, as well as the love you have found for your shared name. Wow! So many, many beautiful thoughts. Thanks for telling us about the red dragonfly.
My favorite is “until one day” — out of the mouths of babes, you heard princess.
An inauspicious start
Ha!
I love the intertwining of the past and the present as you reveal so much about your name, experiences, and namesake.
What a beautiful chain of memory and legacy to your name. There’s sad bits, funny bits and joy too. Love all the ways your name establishes you in life.
Fran, it’s interesting how many of us have been named for others in our family and we find it a challenge to understand why it takes us so long to see this as an honor. I love the story about the students finding “beauty” in the name that you’d been teased with for so long. Princess!
And, your story reminds us how important it is for us to take care with names…even if they are difficult for us to pronounce because we use different “guides” for sounds of letters.
Imagine our students whose names are written in a different alphabet!
Fran, your words transport us to your porch with the birds singing and the candle’s “wavering halo.” I love the way you circle back to place with its sights and sounds in this poem.
Fran — So many lines of your poem rang bells for me. My middle name is Frances, and the French in my middle and last names have always been a “thing” with me. My dad had Francis as his middle name…so did my brother…and I got the feminine spelling…it is a “thing.” Made me smile.
The poem starts with the image of you at the table with the candle…I love that you come back to that with light “spilling/ through the windows” — beautiful language. The little Sp. speaking girls being an eye-opener to your princess-ness…how sweet!
If you get a chance to take a photo of the red dragonflies, please do! I’d love to see that.
Thank you for the journey of this poem. Susie
I am sooooo happy I waited until this evening to read your poem. I was tempted this morning but knew that my time and attention weren’t being kind to me. Your poem is magical. It’s like I spent time in your space with you and your candle, time in your memories, and what fun this was! Your grandma reminds me of mine. They possess that special touch and love that every child should experience.
My heart ached for your great grandpa, the very religious man, who had such a tragic death. So much to hold and see, feel and imagine. Thank you, Fran.
?
Maureen, thank you for the fun exploration today. It’s a name ice breaker – a nice breaker, if you will. I love that you can be Mo’ if you want to be!
I have been a surname
(who’d have thunk)
and completely unknown
(I’m comfortable with that).
My parents named me Jennifer
before its fourteen year run
as the most popular name
in America.
(my only claim to popularity).
There’s an Aniston, a Garner,
and one from the block
(We are on the decline worldwide).
My grandmother,
who always had a poem
to share from memory,
greeted me with my own
(Jenny kissed me when we met…)
Jennifer, many of my classmates throughout school had your pretty name and I envied you all! I savor the wit with which you relate the story of almost being given a surname and being “completely unknown.” The parenthetical asides work so well here – and I absolutely love your grandma who had so many poems in her head, and that she greeted you with one for your name. Both poignant and light – and, I see where your love of poetry was born…
There is something about a Jennifer, isn’t there? Sorry to hear you are declining- maybe your mission could be to bring Jenny back (have you ever been a Jenny?)! Your ending is divine.
Jennifer,
you had me at “I have been a surname” and hugged me at “thunk!” I love that you were exactly 14 years pre-popular. All those young girls who adored you grew up and named their own little girls Jennifer. And the references to the Aniston and the Garner and the “one from the block” is so cleverly written that we see the uniqueness in all Jennifers! Your parentheses in the decline made me chuckle, like we kind of need protective legislation and a repopulation of Jennifers. The endearing shortening of your name by your grandmother is just the cherry on top at the end! Just think: now you have an alliterative name!
Jennifer, you have shared some interesting facts and feelings about your name. I have to say my favorite is to learn the gem that your grandmother “always had a poem / to share from memory”
I enjoyed looking up the poem she greeted you with.
I love your allusions to pop culture. I have two that people like to remind me about: Heather Morris the actress and Heather Morris the author. Oh, how I wish my name would be on a book someday.
I like the ties to Aniston, Garner, one from the block AND Grandma. Sweet, fun and very descriptive.
Jennifer — I enjoyed your poem…the many Jennys/Jennifers. I chuckled with the line:
It’s funny to think of a whole category of names disappearing from the culture. There’s a legacy here, with grandmother, that speaks to this…decline… methinks rare and precious.
Susie
Jennifer, I loved your parenthetical asides! They were so funny throughout and then quite tender at the end. (When you’re ready to be rechristened — like one of your namesakes — I’m ready to fully support JJo, poet from the block!)
Haha! I needed this laugh. Thank you!
Mo, what a fun way to start our Open Write! I can see this being a really neat way to start the year getting to know students! Your line “she can be mo’ if she wants” is my favorite – packed with layers of meaning, but that apostrophe invites writers to leave the King’s English alone and write from the heart. I love this prompt! I’m weaving a haiku daisy chain today…..
Kim’s Royal Meadow
Kimberly Lynn Haynes
“Royal fortress meadow-sent”
start of a haiku
name given at birth
twice changed: Meyer and Johnson
dark night and daybreak
titles given, earned
Miss, Mrs., Ms., Dr. J
proud ex-wife, proud wife
sister, mom, nana
gypsy soul, reader, writer
pen is my scepter
crown: white daisy chain
glass slippers: tan Birkenstocks
robe: tye-dyed ball gown
my meadow kingdom ~
one big hippie Woodstock realm
take my hand! step in…..
Kim, this is a delightful celebration of your name. That second to last haiku is image perfection (we are Cinderella sisters!). You now have me thinking about my own meadow kingdom.
Dear Kim, Queen of Haiku – you ARE haiku! Somewhere around the time I started reading you I began writing more haiku, especially story haiku. It’s rhythm in sync with the pattern of my own thoughts. I’m always struck by your energy and free-spiritedness; perhaps I crave these! Your verse is woven with magic (I imagine fireflies and fairies along with the daisy chain, Birkenstocks, and tie-dyed gown). I love your meadow-kingdom. From the very first visit, I felt right at home there with you.
KIm, I adore haiku, but you are scaring me away a little bit! You have captured so much in so few words. The “dark night and daybreak” line speaks vollumes to me. Those Birkenstocks made me laugh out loud! So well done.
Kim,
What fun! I love the you in this poem, and as Fran said, you are the queen of haiku. Wow! They flow together just as beautiful as a daisy chain. Plus you shared so many chapters of your life with such a few words. An example of this: “dark night and daybreak” You are a master, and you teach me something new every time I read your work.
And I wanted to comment on your noticing the apostrophe in Mo’s first mo’ in her poem. I was so glad you mentioned it. That was really clever, Mo! And I had forgotten earlier to say what it was I loved about your poem, so I will just mention one favorite part, metaphor for you:
“essential for life and resistant to corrosion.”
Now I’m loving:
and
I love this! The haiku beginning, daybreak, gypsy soul, pen-scepter, meadow kingdom. It sounds so beautiful and inviting! I’m on my way.
Ah, Kim — this is a marvelous picture of the many dimensions of you! I love all these names, like the hats we wear. This is so visual…that “daisy chain” and “Birkenstocks” and “tie-dyed” … you wild thang you! And I particularly loved “given, earned”… those titles! You bet! Fun poem! Susie
So much fun, Kim! I love what you decided to do with your name and with Haiku as your form. I felt connected to you the entire poem.
My favorite:
Love it! I’m taking your hand and stepping in…..
Son of a son of a song
sung of the singing song of
the son of a son of a father –
a worker, a hodge
– the son of us,
the very first one of us –
the one who wrangled his name
from the worn-out hands
of his laboring father,
so that with time’s passing,
we’ve bent the story
so far backward,
the first father’s
now long forgotten,
for no one on this rooted
tree has taken the time
to asking
Just a personal aside: Don’t use Urban Dictionary to research your name.
🙂
Ha! I just went there and looked myself up. Apparently Kimberlys bring people joy but will also kill folks who mess with us…bwahahahahaa! I needed this name laugh today. More fun than “from
the Royal fortress Meadow!”
Okay….so now I must go search my name in Urban Dictionary. LOL. That crazy site has helped me as a MS librarian many days. I love the far back reach in your poem. The connectedness to ancestors is magnetic. Those hands, too. What a lineage. It’s nice to be able to know it and find comfort in it, I think.
Kevin, your first line reminds me of Jimmy Buffet’s Son of a Sailor. I’m hearing it in my head now….?. The bending of the story shows the passage of time, but I love that the end makes us stop and think about the beginning of our family roots!
Kevin, your words wind through time and wrangle meaning, much like the family tree (love the image of the rooted tree).
FIrst of all, thanks for teaching me the word “hodge.” I think your poem is a lovely tribute to your ancestors, but I also appreciate how you’ve bconnected it to modern times and your own life, too. The thought of bending a story backward in time is particularly appealing to me. I always wonder how much of my Irish family’s story is lore or fancy. Lovely poem!
Beautiful! I love this:
I learned the meaning of hodge today too. You come from sturdy roots.
And that warning about Urban Dictionary is quite an invitation!
Kevin, others have mentioned it, but I, too, find your choice of “wrangled” particularly powerful. The idea of inviting students to wrangle backward to learn about their names and then forward to consider how they will “live” with their names can become an intriguing writing assignment. Will they allow their names to shape them or will they shape their names.Hmmm.
Kevin, I was expecting an explanation of your first name, but was delighted with the exploration of your surname. How is it that we are so forgetful, that “the first father’s/ now long forgotten?”
Kevin — I love the musicality of your poem, starting off with a bit of Jimmy Buffet…that got me going right away. The images of the first one “who wrangled his name/from the worn-out hands…” … very rich lines! To “ben[d] the story/so far backwards…”oooo, yeah. The ending lines…taking the time to ask… the ruefulness of that plaint… that if quite moving… we don’t think to ask sooooo much! Wonderful poem! Thank you. Susie
Good Morning writers! I think I woke up early because today is Ethical ELA poetry prompt day! LOL. Or, I took a long nap yesterday. One of those things, I’m sure. Maureen, what a fun prompt. I love how you showed how your name has positive and negative meanings. And, in the end, she can be who she wants to be!
I thought I knew the meaning of my name…but I DID have a thing or two to learn. I look forward to seeing more poems today.
Friends from the first
God is gracious
to the linden tree.
In that old garden
Where God whistle-walked
Linden bent this way and that
to catch each note
Sometimes, God told stories
with all the voices until
the tree shivered with glee
God did too.
Linden remembered
God’s stories
as she grew green to brown
to green again.
If you linger
beneath her branches
she’ll share a few.
I adore that last stanza …. it’s wonderful and a perfect way to bring the poem to a close of quiet.
Linda, the imagery here of God whistle-walking and the Linden trees bending to hear him and shaking with glee is just sheer joy! That last stanza is just like sitting with a friend and sharing stories. Something about the word linger feels relaxed and pulled to stick around instead of running off….just enjoying the time!
Linda, what a beautiful way to share a story of your name. This offers reverence, companionship, and eternity. I want to linger beneath her branches – I bet she’s heard many stories.
Linda, from the start you were infused with the sacred whispers of poetry, as are the trees in their own way. I adore the weaving and value of story here – the image of God shivering with glee, and whistle-walking – just glorious. I see it all so clearly, the linden tree leaning to catch each note. I find myself doing exactly that as I read your lyrical words (for is this not what writers do?). Profoundly beautiful.
What a beautiful poem, Linda. You have just whisked us away into a lush graden with God as our companion. I love your connection to and personification of the linden tree.
O, Linda, I just love how you do that. This is amazing. My favorite stanza, (though I have others too) is
“with all the voices” Beautiful!
Hi Linda,
Your poem breathes beauty, grace, and peace so I venture to determine Linda means exactly that. I love that it doesn’t explain your name but rather gives a gorgeous story and lets us see something marvelous:
Beautiful, Linda!