Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
drumhoundPoems
My mother named me for no good reason. There was no fireman hero, no reknown global leader, nor an astronaut Stephen setting his foot on the moon. It wasn't even her stylist whom she honored as he kept her trusted secrets. The roulette wheel of monikers whirred uninterestedly past Michael David John Robert Mark Mitchell Glen (and thankfully) Carl and surrendered its last click on the formal of Steve with a "ph". It was haplessly indifferent in the way it came be. A last grasp of titles as they pushed her out the hospital doors. I have a friend whose name was never in question. He was a fifth, as in William V. The Ist was proud, so proud that he named the IInd. The IInd an heir, so he named the IIIrd. The IIIrd obliged, and so the IVth. The IVth weary from fighting the previous I's and hence, the V... as in William V, as in flavorless, pomposity faded, worn like a hand-me-down dress shirt through five generations bereft of shape and dignity and fit. He wished he had his own name - I did. And I found my name free to be designed to the only son my mom ever had - to be as grand or plain as I constructed it to be. This one-size-fits-me tag Stephen Dane Roberson is the Ist and only. A name that I love because it is filled with all the stuff I put in it; and that stuff is me... a me I wanted to be when I grew up :-)
0
Oct 2, 2013
Oct 2, 2013 at 2:23 AM UTC
The Name
My mother named me for no good reason. There was no fireman hero, no reknown global leader, nor an astronaut Stephen setting his foot on the moon. It wasn't even her stylist whom she honored as he kept her trusted secrets. The roulette wheel of monikers whirred uninterestedly past Michael David John Robert Mark Mitchell Glen (and thankfully) Carl and surrendered its last click on the formal of Steve with a "ph". It was haplessly indifferent in the way it came be. A last grasp of titles as they pushed her out the hospital doors. I have a friend whose name was never in question. He was a fifth, as in William V. The Ist was proud, so proud that he named the IInd. The IInd an heir, so he named the IIIrd. The IIIrd obliged, and so the IVth. The IVth weary from fighting the previous I's and hence, the V... as in William V, as in flavorless, pomposity faded, worn like a hand-me-down dress shirt through five generations bereft of shape and dignity and fit. He wished he had his own name - I did. And I found my name free to be designed to the only son my mom ever had - to be as grand or plain as I constructed it to be. This one-size-fits-me tag Stephen Dane Roberson is the Ist and only. A name that I love because it is filled with all the stuff I put in it; and that stuff is me... a me I wanted to be when I grew up :-)
drumhound
Written by
drumhound
American
Oct 2, 2013
Oct 2, 2013 at 2:23 AM UTC
Request permission to use this poem