A little nonsense created in childhood
To moniker a character in my brain
Who was everything I saw as cool
A name with no meaning at all
Except to capture her beauty
I thought the letters perfect
Their arrangement pretty
And I kept her around
And for years since
I used her name
Or is it mine
I guess it
Belongs
To just
Me

I’m not a writer so I won’t embarrass myself. But I’ll post my favourite related poem instead by Langston Hughes who should need no introduction, if that’s a nono here I apologise but I do enjoy a bit of poetry.

Lenin walks around the world.

Frontiers cannot bar him.

Neither barracks nor barricades impede.

Nor does barbed wire scar him.

Lenin walks around the world.

Black, brown, and white receive him.

Language is no barrier.

The strangest tongues believe him.

Lenin walks around the world.

The sun sets like a scar.

Between the darkness and the dawn

There rises a red star.

My name is vis4valentine

a soul waiting to shine

sitting alone in a shrine

trying to keep open my eyes

because the sun is too bright

and i wanted to fall aside

to nap and rest for the night

and wake up with someone by my side.

Young son, whist here and listen to your grand old father’s tale

Be careful with your name, my lad, 'round monsters from the pale

For one day it was Skeletor who stopped past my front door

I let him in, stole most my name, and put his own before!

I see it reflected in your eyes

Your fears and your disgust

The burden of my lies

Is as bitter as dust

But if I’m just a raccoon

Then it’s simply my nature

To live under the moon

And to be a failure

You don’t have to worry

And I don’t have to lie

And I can be merry

Beneath the starry sky

deleted by creator

In the past, beyond the pale

A forgotten story, a foreign tale

Traversing through a mountainous wood

A lone figure, wearing a hood

The forest was dire, but he walked with ease

Because he alone was the master of trees

Branches sway to clear a street

For any other, they would surely beat

What was the name of that man on the hill?

Why, none other than Tom Bombadil!

I had to do two,

Because the first wasn’t true.

I was a child of a young sort

When I looked upon my porch.

In order to cut our trees faster,

My dad bought The Tree Master.

It was a wood chipper with buttons and levers.

I borrowed it’s name and thought myself clever.

That was well over 10 years ago.

I never came up with a new name, though.