The Loping Raven
(Inspired by Susan Goldsmith Wooldridge' book, "poemcrazy," this poem I wrote gave me the name for my record label.)
My car's name is Loping Raven.
My real name is Loves Too Much.
Yesterday my name was Runs Fast.
Long ago my name was Amber Halfmoon. When I grew up into Fullmoon the world became blind
and misunderstood and called me Newmoon.
One day my name will be Finds Her Own Huckleberry Bush.
My other name will be Hugs Herself in the Rain Puddle.
My husband's name will be River Winding Around One Tree.
Right now he is just a boy who loves me
and his name is Candy Eater.
Yesterday he was older and his name was Slow Stepper.
My mother's real name is Knows From the Inside.
My father's name is Chicken Squaking. Hmmm.
That was inaccurate, impulsive!
His name is... Bone Burrier.
My brother's name is Digs Up the Universe.
And my world's name is Chopped Forest Wants to Grow.
-Betina Hershey, 9/2000
My mother says my name is every word.
My father says it's tickle back soothing touch.
My boss says it's "eggs ala otre, do it now!"
My brother says it's dum dum dum de dum
My best friend says it's sweet poems butterfly
In my kitchen, I'm known as nauseous vessel stink pot.
Secretly, I know my name is lively fingers.
My mind says it's listening to instructions
My heart says it's stained but wide awake.
My soul foresees freedom
In the labyrinth, my name will be Northstar.
- Sue Tyrrel
a yellow, blue, white and green
racing an airport runway
in my long lost Rangoon Red
my body framed in lynx dyed fox,
caressing my nakedness.
come home again.
My name is Redwood.
-Trish (Noland) Schiesser
Click here to check out Trish's book,
In The Company Of Women, on amazon.com
It's not what it seems
Poem becomes meop
But eye stays the same
What do I call ye
By your name I presume
But what is your name?
Call me anything, she said
To you I may be Joe
To others I am Pepe
Yet to some it's Chèpe
My real name is Joseph
- joeL, 7/10/2001
Laugher calls me Funny.
Married calls me Lonely.
Lonely calls me Busy.
Wisdom calls me Young.
Stubborn calls me Stubborn.
Mother calls me Child.
Yet to be Trusted calls me Perfect.
Afraid Calls me Unable.
World calls me Sucker.
I just might answer you,
and then what would you do?
-Alena Gerst, 6/2001
If you are inspired to write a re-naming poem, send it via email to firstname.lastname@example.org