SelfBefore there was him there was no me.
Legitimatly speaking I was undefined.
An emptiness walking along steps instead of stones.
Following what was the line of living...
He breathed meaning into my soul, and made life burst before me.
He began to paint color into what he called 'our' world.
His arms remained around me through my days of bliss, and there was no sweeter sound then him whispering what became my name.
The Jazz he would play on his records while we sipped our coffee on the couch became our theme songs.
The smell of sweet cream and strong beans became familiarity.
Poetry would spill from his mouth in slow syrupy words. Addicted I would watch every form his lips would transform, listening to every note his voice would reach.
He filled me with himself.
Only once he was gone did I realize, I had no name.
Once 'our' world became 'my' world, I no longer knew who 'it' belonged to.
My feet turned to the stairs this body walked before, but my hands habitually grabbed a record to play
call my nameIn your last days
you must have called my name
a hundred times,
You needed me so much.
Now I´d give anything and everything
to hear your voice
call my name again,
just one more time.
by Suzanne Karbach august 2014
NamesMany people have been called names,
Many different names have hurt people.
Names can't, and won't define us,
Just us our birth given name does not.
If I were to have a child and name her Ariel, does that suddenly make her a mermaid?
No, it doesn't, and if our given name won't define us, the names we are called certainly can't.
Why is being called ugly or worthless any different from that?
Just because we are called that, it won't automatically make us that.
It's all about what you believe.
You believe you are ugly, and you allow such silly little names to hurt you.
Have you ever called someone a name and not meant it?
If you call a beautiful person ugly, does that make them that?
If I called you Cinderella, are you going to turn into a Disney princess and ride off into the sunset?
The answer is no, because only who you are and what you do can define you,
No name, no words can change who you really are.
YOU can change who you really are.
A Name?A Name?
"I have many names."
I have been called many names
Not all of them fit me well
I know too well that I was levelled blame
But time will always tell
Some words were screamed at me in rage
By angry sires
In one word I experienced a hell
I felt the raging fires
The worth that burned on their tongues
The heat deep in their hearts
It induced me find the way to separate
And live far apart
renaissance.jpega name like mine
lies, for it wishes to hide its
but that particular pattern of
has long since been
pulsing tissue and
... describing your life... given a birth name
Their expectations burden
what you will be called
rests on how you live your life
your birth name carved on a stone
Welcome to Heart-of-Poetry's forty first writing prompt. Hopefully these weekly journals will inspire some new ideas to keep you writing. You may write for our prompts in any format you wish -- poetry, prose, flash fiction -- just so the content is based off this week's theme.
This week's theme is illusion. A sight of the oasis in the desert. The nightmares that haunt us. Write about this.
Remember to submit your new deviation to the Weekly Prompt folder. If you would be so kind, also mention this prompt (and the group's name) in your deviation's description. Have fun!
Deadline: September 8th
Happy writing! Oilux