Precious Me
My precious names forgive me,
In the sea of death is a police;
The watery wild begs much misery
To disappear, and concoct a little.
My names are like musical notes
Of the sea and the land and the air.
The praised names convince me
That my fathers and mothers are sound,
Some are here, some of us are then fully present.
My name is my friend for all the times,
The divine songs falter after too many times.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Related quotes
I'm very influenced by landscapes, not so much the way places look as the way the names sound. In this country we've got so many cultures, and the place names - the Spanish names and the Indian names, which are so incredibly musical.
quote by Emmylou Harris
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Not Every Poem Knows How To Say Its Own Name Properly
NOT EVERY POEM KNOWS HOW TO SAY ITS OWN NAME PROPERLY
Not every poem knows how to say its own name properly-
There are poems that have no name
And poems that are named by others who have not written them-
There are poems whose names make them what they are
And poems whose names contradict and belie them-
Many poems have their first lines as their names
And these poems often are as memorable as one line only-
Great poems and good poems can be nameless
Or can have unforgettable names.
Not every poem knows how to say its own name properly -
Poems are poems are poems
And names are names are names
And sometimes they meet and are one
And live happily ever after-
But there are times when perhaps
They never should have met each other at all.
Poems have their names
And names have their poems
But sometimes they love each other
And truly are one.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Faces & Names
Faces and names, I wish they were the same
Faces and names only cause trouble for me
Faces and names
If we all looked the same and we all had the same name
I wouldnt be jealous of you or you jealous of me
Faces and names
I always fall in love with someone who looks
The way I wish that I could be
Im always staring at someone who hurts
And the one they hurt is me
Faces and names, to me theyre all the same
If I looked like you and you looked like me
Thered be less trouble you see
Faces and names, I wish theyd go away
Id disappear into that wall and never talk
Talk, not talk
I wish I was a robot or a machine
Without a feeling or a thought
People who want to meet the name I have
Are always disappointed when they meet me
Faces and names, I wish they were the same
Faces and names only cause problems for me
Faces and names
Id rather be a hole in the wall
Looking out on the other side
Id rather look and listen, listen and not talk
To faces and names
If I had a breakdown when I was a kid
I lost my hair when I was young
If you dress older when youre not
As your really age you look the same
If we all looked the same, we wouldnt play these games
Me dressing for you and you dressing for me
Undressing for me
Faces and names, if they all were the same
You wouldnt be jealous of me or me jealous of you
Me jealous of you, me jealous of you
Your face and your name
Your face and your name
Faces and names
Faces and names
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Own Names
My names are fed to the choir,
The choristers will lose our space
For the instruction.
The names of our fore-fathers are inscribed
In our hearts, in those hearts is heat.
The pen is sold to the buyer of blasphemy,
He swears against the names I own.
My own job has a penny or two away
From becoming a solid command.
The commands are total and complete,
Fair and happening to the whole choir.
Names will sort out fancy and medicine.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Vicious Games
I never knew
How much I loved you
I never knew
How much I cared
So I played
Vicious games, vicious games
With different names, different names
Vicious games, vicious games
With different names, different names
I was afraid
To go under
Afraid to see
When I closed my eyes
Vicious games, vicious games
With different names, different names
Vicious games, vicious games
With different names, different names
I never knew
How much I loved you
I never knew
How much I care
I just played
Vicious games, vicious games
With different names, different names
Vicious games, vicious games
With different names, different names
Now that youre gone
And you have left me
I had to learn
I had to learn how much it hurts
To play those vicious games
Vicious games, vicious games
Different names, different names
Vicious games, vicious games
Different names, different names
Vicious games, vicious games
Different names, different names
Vicious games, vicious games
Different names, different names
song performed by by Yello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Vicious Games
I never knew
How much I loved you
I never knew
How much I cared
So I played
Vicious games, vicious games
With different names, different names
Vicious games, vicious games
With different names, different names
I was afraid
To go under
Afraid to see
When I closed my eyes
Vicious games, vicious games
With different names, different names
Vicious games, vicious games
With different names, different names
I never knew
How much I loved you
I never knew
How much I care
I just played
Vicious games, vicious games
With different names, different names
Vicious games, vicious games
With different names, different names
Now that youre gone
And you have left me
I had to learn
I had to learn how much it hurts
To play those vicious games
Vicious games, vicious games
Different names, different names
Vicious games, vicious games
Different names, different names
Vicious games, vicious games
Different names, different names
Vicious games, vicious games
Different names, different names
song performed by by Yello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Want My Name So Much To Be A Name
I WANT MY NAME SO MUCH TO BE A NAME
I want my name so much to be a name-
But when I am gone
What will that name mean to me?
Your name too
What will it mean
In the great distances?
Names and more names
Only G-d knows.
God has many names
And no name
And only One Name
Why should I insist so much
On my own name?
When only God can know
All the Names
Even God’s own.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Man Gave Names To All The Animals
Man gave names to all the animals
In the beginning, in the beginning.
Man gave names to all the animals
In the beginning, long time ago.
He saw an animal that liked to growl,
Big furry paws and he liked to howl,
Great big furry back and furry hair.
Ah, think Ill call it a bear.
Man gave names to all the animals
In the beginning, in the beginning.
Man gave names to all the animals
In the beginning, long time ago.
He saw an animal up on a hill
Chewing up so much grass until she was filled.
He saw milk comin out but he didnt know how.
Ah, think Ill call it a cow.
Man gave names to all the animals
In the beginning, in the beginning.
Man gave names to all the animals
In the beginning, long time ago.
He saw an animal that liked to snort,
Horns on his head and they werent too short.
It looked like there wasnt nothin that he couldnt pull.
Ah, think Ill call it a bull.
Man gave names to all the animals
In the beginning, in the beginning.
Man gave names to all the animals
In the beginning, long time ago.
He saw an animal leavin a muddy trail,
Real dirty face and a curly tail.
He wasnt too small and he wasnt too big.
Ah, think Ill call it a pig.
Man gave names to all the animals
In the beginning, in the beginning.
Man gave names to all the animals
In the beginning, long time ago.
Next animal that he did meet
Had wool on his back and hooves on his feet,
Eating grass on a mountainside so steep.
Ah, think Ill call it a sheep.
Man gave names to all the animals
In the beginning, in the beginning.
Man gave names to all the animals
In the beginning, long time ago.
He saw an animal as smooth as glass
Slithering his way through the grass.
Saw him disappear by a tree near a lake . . .
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Indian names were either characteristic nicknames given in a playful spirit, deed names, birth names, or such as have a religious and symbolic meaning.
quote by Charles Eastman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Names Are Special
My names are special, extra special and more,
The need for food is increased by the age and maturity.
Names laugh and cry like certain cookery ingredients
For a rich dish, or a casserole, or a pudding.
Food is eaten from the day that was the first
To the last and final day of your period on this world.
You must accept those with surnames,
And let no snake interfere, just let no adder crawl.
The devils hide their names,
But do not and do not copy them
For your names are not hidden,
For people need you and their attention is on you.
Names are revered, and their calling is exact,
May you leave us and join the brigade of Life.
poem by Naveed Akram
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The Names
Yesterday, I lay awake in the palm of the night.
A soft rain stole in, unhelped by any breeze,
And when I saw the silver glaze on the windows,
I started with A, with Ackerman, as it happened,
Then Baxter and Calabro,
Davis and Eberling, names falling into place
As droplets fell through the dark.
Names printed on the ceiling of the night.
Names slipping around a watery bend.
Twenty-six willows on the banks of a stream.
In the morning, I walked out barefoot
Among thousands of flowers
Heavy with dew like the eyes of tears,
And each had a name --
Fiori inscribed on a yellow petal
Then Gonzalez and Han, Ishikawa and Jenkins.
Names written in the air
And stitched into the cloth of the day.
A name under a photograph taped to a mailbox.
Monogram on a torn shirt,
I see you spelled out on storefront windows
And on the bright unfurled awnings of this city.
I say the syllables as I turn a corner --
Kelly and Lee,
Medina, Nardella, and O'Connor.
When I peer into the woods,
I see a thick tangle where letters are hidden
As in a puzzle concocted for children.
Parker and Quigley in the twigs of an ash,
Rizzo, Schubert, Torres, and Upton,
Secrets in the boughs of an ancient maple.
Names written in the pale sky.
Names rising in the updraft amid buildings.
Names silent in stone
Or cried out behind a door.
Names blown over the earth and out to sea.
In the evening -- weakening light, the last swallows.
A boy on a lake lifts his oars.
A woman by a window puts a match to a candle,
And the names are outlined on the rose clouds --
Vanacore and Wallace,
(let X stand, if it can, for the ones unfound)
Then Young and Ziminsky, the final jolt of Z.
Names etched on the head of a pin.
One name spanning a bridge, another undergoing a tunnel.
A blue name needled into the skin.
Names of citizens, workers, mothers and fathers,
The bright-eyed daughter, the quick son.
Alphabet of names in a green field.
Names in the small tracks of birds.
Names lifted from a hat
Or balanced on the tip of the tongue.
Names wheeled into the dim warehouse of memory.
So many names, there is barely room on the walls of the heart.
*This poem is dedicated to the victims of September 11 and to their survivors.
poem by Billy Collins
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Writer's Disposal
Hurt and tense are writer's slaves
So she'll slash through page by page
Burning holes with vivid tongue
Still the feeling strikes as young
Through and through this time again
Misery welcomes her like a friend
Slash and slash and through and through
She spells her feelings as if they're new
Instead of skin she beats a page
A healthy cure, sure, lest she names
These demons, the things that she writes about
That she names other names to give them doubts
Things like this she knows all too well
Her hurts and pains often etch the spell
Before she even thinks to open her eyes
She's solved her feelings with a metaphor for cries
These nameless names named through and through
She possibly could be writing of you
And name you a snake; what harm is there in that?
Proof, invalid; your name is intact
These nameless things she knows all too well
You might not know but help etch her spell
Because intended or vicious, her works are neither
You'd ask what they're about; but she might not know either
poem by Dayna Mortimore
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Gautama Christ
The names of God and especially those of His representative
Who is called Jesus or Christ according to holy books and
someone's mouth
These names have been used, worn out and left
On the shores of rivers of of human lives
Like the empty shells of a mollusk.
However when we touch these sacred but exhausted
Names, these wounded scattered petals
Which have come out of the oceans of love and fear
Something still remains, a sip of water,
A rainbow footprint that still shimmers in the light.
While the names of God were used
By the best and the worst, by the clean and the dirty
By the white and the black, by bloody murderers
And by victims flaming gold with napalm
While Nixon with his hands
Of Cain blessed those whom he condemned to death,
While fewer and fewer divine footprints were found
on the beach
People began to study colors,
The future of honey, the sign of uranium
They looked with anxiety and hope for the possibilities
Of killing themselves or not killing themselves, of organizing
themselves into a fabric
Of going further on, of breaking through limits without stopping
What we came across in these blood thirsty times
With their smoke of burning trash, their dead ashes
As we weren't able to stop looking
We often stopped to look at the names of God
We lifted them with tenderness because they reminded us
Of our ancestors, of the first people, those who said the prayers
Those who discovered the hymn that united them in misfortune
And now seeing the empty fragments which sheltered those
ancient people
We feel those smooth substances,
Worn out and used up by good and by evil.
poem by Pablo Neruda
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Call me what you want
Call me what you want,
You can push me around,
Make fun of me,
Call me names,
All your doing is calling yourself your own family names,
I am the mirror you are the bee,
Whatever you say or do it reflects off of me,
So you can go ahead call me names do whatever makes you happy,
Cause in the end all your doing is hurting yourself cause are nothing but a bully that has a low-life and have nothing better to do but make fun of people.
poem by Jennifer Rondeau
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Love Of Freedom
It seems to me Ive heard that song before
Far off in some distant land
Or it may have been upon some foreign shore
Burning in my heart again
Ive seen the sounds and I have felt the air
Drumming in my dreams again
Deja vu I dont know now or then
Enemy or maybe friend
Oh but for the love of freedom
Oh but for the love of you
I would never, ever have seen this day
So please forgive me if I weep no more
For friends and lovers far away
Theres been too many times to hear the names
Of friends who have stayed away
Maybe now and then you still recall the pain
As though it was yesterday
Oh but for the love of freedom
Oh but for the love of you
I would never, ever have seen this day
So please forgive me if I weep no more
For friends and lovers far away
For friends and lovers far away
(mccafferty, agnew, charlton, sweet)
1984 fool circle music
song performed by by Nazareth
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Death
I.
They die--the dead return not--Misery
Sits near an open grave and calls them over,
A Youth with hoary hair and haggard eye--
They are the names of kindred, friend and lover,
Which he so feebly calls—they all are gone--
Fond wretch, all dead! those vacant names alone,
This most familiar scene, my pain--
These tombs—alone remain.
II.
Misery, my sweetest friend—oh, weep no more!
Thou wilt not be consoled—I wonder not!
For I have seen thee from thy dwelling’s door
Watch the calm sunset with them, and this spot
Was even as bright and calm, but transitory,
And now thy hopes are gone, thy hair is hoary;
This most familiar scene, my pain--
These tombs—alone remain.
poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
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Record Of Mighty Arrest
Recording names of stupor corresponds to success,
The dossier of might, a charter of demand.
We mimic the italics of names all around,
A dossier has been published of one’s cross.
The evidentiary record, the archives, the registry,
All amount to this same collection of names, proper.
Shot at the face, we take in hand and put to notice
Sure ways of arresting and sending to the places suited.
poem by Naveed Akram
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On That Same Hour Of The Night
on that same hour of the night
while you
were drinking your beer
alone
and taking big bites
of your beef steaks
and releasing
your stress
on some sticks of
imported cigarettes
on the other side of the table
too
sit two other friends
talking nonchalantly
like the sound systems of
the barrio
the wave their hands
shouting their names
telling me
that these times
they too know how to still enjoy
life and forget
and that i am always too far away from them
in my own kind
of indifference
in my own way
to disregarding
other people's selfishness
and they ask me if i have not forgotten them
their names the place of their origins
their true faces
and how the scars and violence have changed them
how they now learn
to look the other way around and bury themselves
in the small pleasures of smoke and alcohol
defining for once
what is despair
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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We Are Defended By Those We Do Not Know The Names Of
WE ARE DEFENDED BY THOSE WE DO NOT KNOW THE NAMES OF
We are defended by those we do not know the names of -
And when one is killed
We know the name for a moment,
Before leaving the long memory to the family-
A few it is true – special heroes-
Have stories and names that remain through the years.
But mostly the dead are anonymous
And the wounded and the injured too.
And a country and a people goes on in freedom-
While in this family or that
Which we will always pray we will not be among
Pain and Loss Forever.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Names Of The Butterfly
the butterfly has a
thousand names
as many as there are languages
and in each even more names:
papillon, paruparo, borboleta, mariposa,
schmetterling, farfalla, fluture, drugelis, sommerfug,
pattampoochi, farasha, prajapathi,
thithili, chocho, hu-tieh
and so on, names a thousand and more
but the silliest name
illogical, unimaginative, and most clichéd
in all the world
is in Plain Jane English:
butterfly…
poem by Raj Arumugam
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