Today's prompts from Write Better Poetry and NaPoWriMo: (1) Write a "high" and/or "low" poem, and (2) "write your own poem in which you muse on your name and nicknames you’ve been given or, if you like, the name and nicknames for an animal, plant, or place. "
So here is my poem for today. Note I used the phrases "high times" and "low places" to satisfy the first prompt.
Niedtie
My name doesn’t lend itself well to nicknames,
so none of the ones I acquired ever stuck,
at least not for a lifetime.
My grandmother was the only one in the family
who called me “Brucie,” fortunately,
and a friend in junior high was the only one
who ever called me “Moose.”
Why, I don’t know—I was never a big burly type.
My younger cousins called me “Big Bruiser,”
after a toy truck popular in those days,
though to my knowledge, I never bruised them.
Occasionally I would get “Cousin Brucie,”
the nickname of the famous New York DJ.
That was okay with me—I always loved music,
and even spun disks at my college station.
But my closest college friends called me “Niedtie,”
which I tacitly accepted, as it made me feel
part of the bunch. Oh, we had some good times,
some high times, and I met my future wife.
She never really called me that—instead,
I’ve accumulated a whole list of pet names,
and in recent years she’s called me “Bruce Bill,”
because my middle name is William,
and it’s a play on those Southern nicknames
like “Jim Bob” and “Billy Joe.”
The thing about nicknames is,
if they’re used with affection,
few things are better to pull you out of low places
than what a good friend or lover calls you.
so none of the ones I acquired ever stuck,
at least not for a lifetime.
My grandmother was the only one in the family
who called me “Brucie,” fortunately,
and a friend in junior high was the only one
who ever called me “Moose.”
Why, I don’t know—I was never a big burly type.
My younger cousins called me “Big Bruiser,”
after a toy truck popular in those days,
though to my knowledge, I never bruised them.
Occasionally I would get “Cousin Brucie,”
the nickname of the famous New York DJ.
That was okay with me—I always loved music,
and even spun disks at my college station.
But my closest college friends called me “Niedtie,”
which I tacitly accepted, as it made me feel
part of the bunch. Oh, we had some good times,
some high times, and I met my future wife.
She never really called me that—instead,
I’ve accumulated a whole list of pet names,
and in recent years she’s called me “Bruce Bill,”
because my middle name is William,
and it’s a play on those Southern nicknames
like “Jim Bob” and “Billy Joe.”
The thing about nicknames is,
if they’re used with affection,
few things are better to pull you out of low places
than what a good friend or lover calls you.
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