#naming
If I wrote a poem about a boy named Xavier,
You’d read about his prehistoric behaviour;
And rhyme dinosaur with omnivore.
But these figuratives don’t reach the core
Of the intrepid, the magical, mysterious, Xavier.
First, let’s be candid about his one shortcoming,
Although he’s Blessed, he’s no Second Coming.
Therefore I’ll pour an alphabet gravy,
Thick with rhymes to cover...
A boy named Xavi.
Xavi’s not achy, antsy or angry, and despite certain claims, he’s not the Almighty.
He’s not beefy or bossy, but brash and brainy; and he’s brave on good days or if things get crazy.
At times he’s classy, not cheeky, but crafty, and oft-times for good reason, Xavi gets crabby.
Xavi’s no dummy, just ask his Mommy, but Aine laughs heartily cause he’s witty and funny.
(The uninformed will pronounce Ex, but there is no E in Xavi.)
He’s not flaky or freaky, flashy or frisky, and though he likes seafood, he doesn’t smell fishy.
Xavi’s not gaudy or gloomy, ghastly or gnarly, and he claims to be Godly, but he’s probably agnostic.
He’s clear minded, not hazy, in a hurry when hasty; he can be huffy and haughty, but none say he’s naughty.
I’ve seen him get icy, iffy, even itchy, but never...most never...could Xavi be icky.
He gets jumpy and jaunty when listening to jazz; but when the Mario’s playing, it’s all razzmatazz.
One wouldn’t say Xavi is kooky or ***** words like kindly and knightly are more to his liking.
He’s a lefty-looney who’s not idle or lazy, but he leaves no doubt he can be a bit dazy.
Mangy doesn’t describe Xavi well, but moody might if you ring his bell.
He’s somewhat nutty, largely nifty and a lot nervy, but I wouldn’t write he’s nasty or nerdy.
Xavi can sing for he’s never off-key; and he plays piano like he’s well-past Grade three.
Xavi’s no phony, he is what you get; and he’s perky and plucky, and pleasantly lucky.
He’s quirky when gobbling and being a turkey; and when he sounds quacky, you might call him duck-wacky.
Xavi’s not randy, but focused and handy, yet rowdy when roaring rambunctiously loudly.
He’s not sappy or scrabby, scaly or shabby; definitely not seedy or scary or shady, or dare I say, smelly.
But he can be touchy and testy, tricky and twitchy, especially when Xavi feels fidgety and prickly.
He’s good looking, not ugly, and certainly not vain; sometimes he’s unruly, but never insane.
Xavi gets verbal when his villainy shows, but avoids being vile when he soars high or dives low.
We hear he gets wordy, and windy, even wonky; and he can whinny when stubborn like an unshakable donkey.
Xavi n’est pas xenophobe parce qu’il aime la geographie.
You see Xavi could be anything he feigns,
Like a young hairy yeti,
Or zany zombie chewing brains.
But of all the ways he presents to me
Xavier is Xavi,
And that’s all I want him to be.
Jan 12
Jan 12, 2026 at 11:39 AM UTC
one that is not my own
one a skin I no longer fit
one all my own but older
one new and fresh faced
one that no one ever knows
a list so long I could never find me
a list of them extending beyond all
Sep 14, 2020
Sep 14, 2020 at 12:53 PM UTC
Soon to be so real.
I choose a name
to take
the place
of the
name she
gave me
at birth.
Why would I want to be named
after your **** addicted friend
and unrequited love interest?
Soon to be so real.
I choose my own
good name
to take
the place
of the
name of
my cut
blood ties.
Why would I want the name
of the alcoholic ***** sprayer
who saw the baby face and ran away?
I'm not
the men you knew.
I'm not
the man you will.
I am the practical
implementation
of a carnelian lust.
The trumpet of
the name of shame.
Sep 28, 2018
Sep 28, 2018 at 9:57 PM UTC
Naming poetry seems a silly thing
The words are free to roam
To take flight without wings
Calling where they land their home
They do not land anywhere by accident
May 4, 2017
May 4, 2017 at 9:43 PM UTC
In bareness life sheds
Melting our essences
To fear our termination
In caskets it all ends
In excess life mends
A regeneration read
Generations transpired
For eons we existed
In neutral life tends
Unscripted to rest
Reassessed to subsist
Repressed to matter
Thou shan't fear death
Embraceth thine destiny
Immortalised in shrines
Till the universe climaxes
Mar 5, 2016
Mar 5, 2016 at 6:54 PM UTC
If I could boast in simple eloquence
of distant, ancient names of stars
that exploded, and became dust,
and became earth,
and became me,
I would willingly jot them
down for our study.
Only this tall clay pile
is what I know of the moment.
And the next moment
may be much like this.
If the celestial proper noun
should suddenly ring out across
a sleepy or forgotten cosmos,
I promise that I shall
not hold it in
like some verbal fossil,
but shall release it
into our waiting essence.
Jul 26, 2015
Jul 26, 2015 at 11:05 AM UTC
naming the world
is our daily task
temporary and forever new
challenging and ambiguous
like the name of the rose
only few names last
most are forgotten
the young ones usually
do not understand
a rose is a rose is a rose
names can move masses
Oedipus Napoleon ****** Ghandi
Jesus Stalin Mohammed Rockefeller
or just a few
or one or two
names are what
remains of us
aids to some fleeting thoughts
in the dear memories of friends
imprinted on official pages
and electronic discs
strange signs for future generations
to name
against the flow of time
what we see hear feel taste smell and do
our dreams and visions and desires
the thoughts we have and those
we do not dare to think
and to name those we love and hate
fills our lives
the rose is
* * *
Mar 18, 2015
Mar 18, 2015 at 10:15 AM UTC