“Call me…”


Photo by Yianni Tzan on Unsplash


Never mind my name. Our true names have power, and why would I willingly offer anyone such power over me? This is what you can call me.


Daybreak … silence broken by songbirds


Call me Bard. Hear the verses I recite. See the sweeping plains razed by the west wind,  the towers of steel and concrete glimmering in the noonday sun. Witness the truth my stories bare, like a woman in the last throws of childbirth. How a mother and father argue into the night while their children cry. How a teacher sighs as yet one more student curses out another during a mini-lesson on theme. How a vacent-eyed survivor of yet another bombing stares at a crumbling wall. How the story of any of us all is the story of all of us. Live, then, as another Bard says: “To thine own self, be true.”


Eagle aloft

the roar of a river

swollen with snowmelt


Call me Troubadour. Feel the rhythm from my acoustic-guitar arpeggios set your feet tapping, your hips swaying. Taste the lips of your beloved, the traces of perfume/cologne on that nape of their neck. Wipe away a child’s tear with a tender touch. Give your last grapefruit to the old homeless woman babbling incomprehensibly to herself on a cool April night. Experience the love my songs summon from the depths of all of our hearts. Then, as a saint says: “Love, then do what you will.”


tiger crouching

the rustle of underbrush

in the jungle’s heart


Call me Warrior-Poet. Shudder as I eviscerate, with the simplest of words, the cherished illusions of those saying “these people…” or “that thing…” Shake as I press a humble truth into the gaping, condescending mouth of mere power. Tremble as I turn the entrapping force intended to shatter me against those that would wield it so. Savor the fiery service I provide. For, as an anonymous warrior-poet says, “Today is a good day to die.”


rising dragon

parting the mist on the sea

the wind


Call me Pathfinder. Follow the trail I blaze through the wilderness. Place your steps in the footprints of this wayfarer. Know the trails signs I leave to mark the way through for you. Do not stay lost; Be found.


dusk … twinkling of the first stars



for Real Toads April Four: Transformations


#GloPoWriMo2018 #NaPoWriMo2018 4/30 (concrete nouns and specific details)









19 replies »

  1. OMG, I feel shaken to my core (in the best possible way). Brilliant, beautiful, deep, and surely true. It’s all wonderful, and especially the haiku. In a feast of outstanding, thrilling poetry to this prompt, for me this is the most outstanding of all (though I have to say – as treasures keep unfolding – so far).

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Okay, just my opinion here … and I’m revamping the words of a fellow teacher who admonishes students to “talk less, write more.” To you I say, “reblog less, write more.” This is astonishing — not that I didn’t think you have it in you — but in the effect it has on a reader (me). Wow.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. A superb piece of writing that rolls across the page like a series of small tsunami. Lifting us up on the song of a name and landing us gently with deep Haiku before we are swept away once more. Quite a ride Frank. Loved every second of it.

    Liked by 1 person

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