PROMPT #284 – WHAT’S IN A NAME?

William Shakespeare had written, “What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.” We have come to know this quote, and our prompt has nothing at all to do with this quote other than this: think of a famous poet/writer or another person who has your same first name, and write a tribute or ode to this person. I mean after all … what’s in a name? (If you’re hard pressed to find a like-named poet, choose one you admire, and fire!)

MARIE’S NAMESHARE:

MARIE MAYNARD DALY

Nineteen Twenty One:
A Black U.S. immigrant
fathered a female,

born in Queens, New York.
His wife came from a home of
voracious readers.

A Cornell student,
he’d majored in chemistry
until funds went dry.

As their baby grew,
she developed a hunger
for education.

Her mother spent long
hours reading to her from the
books that graced their home.

Books on the subject
of science and scientists
sparked interest in her.

She earned her B.S.,
then M.S., then Ph.D.,
in chemistry … this

making her the first
African-American
woman to do so.

Now a professor
and researcher, her studies
helped to discover

the relationship
between high cholesterol,
and clogged arteries.

Her groundbreaking work
helped to clarify how the
human body works.

Marie M. Daly.
I had to dig to find her.
A treasure unearthed.

© Marie Elena Good, 2020

Information and some direct phrasing from: https://www.biography.com/scientist/marie-m-daly

Walt:  The research that I did as a result of your prompt ending up helping me discover this amazing woman, right in time for Black History Month.  Thank you!

Marie: We help each other learn and grow. We are a bountiful garden.

 

WALT’S SHARED LABEL:

OF LEAVES OF GRASS AND SUCH

Of me!
Of Life!
Of these questions recurring;

Of the endless trains of the faithless
wondering about existence with persistence
and resolve, trying to solve the mysteries, failing;

Of myself,
mired in thoughts profound, that surround
in a confused fog, a lone dog chewing on life’s flavored bone. Alone;

Of eyes that crave the light
of each new day, of each new idea,
of every struggle, the brilliance of wisdom glowing;

Of every poor result left to fester,
of the sullied crowds plotting
allotting me to surrender without recourse;

Of the empty useless years, no rest
on this life quest when I acquiesce to this folly,
no jolly expression left unpunished, unfinished;

Of the terrible doubt
that lingers with words left to languish in these fingers
poetic verses worsen as time passes, thoughts amassed and sequestered;

Of the uncertainty of what life remains
to offer to fill the coffers of one left bankrupt of ideas,
of ideals, of the feeling of relevance and some semblance of honor;

Of day and night awash in memories lost
of doubtless apparitions holding answers to questions unasked
or pondered, wonders of the world we possess and caress with our words;

Of course, nothing comes from nothing
and should nothing become something, we will dream and fly,
an eye on future tomorrows, of joys and sorrows;

Of the visages of things that bring into focus
what hearts envision; of piercing through every heaven,
every hell and the ability to tell the difference;

Of the ugliness of men to cast aspersions one upon the other,
making sister and brother enemies of that hated state.
Return to the sacred plate of communion, a blessed union of souls;

Of me?
Of life recurring?
Of Leaves of Grass and such!

 

© Walter J Wojtanik – 2020

Inspiration drawn from Walt Whitman’s works – Leaves of Grass, O Me! Oh Life!, Of the Terrible Doubt of Appearances, Of the Visage of Things