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HelpRe: Owen
in reply to a message by *Brogan*
Owen will definitely age well. It's growing more and more popular, and with cool kids like Owen Wilson around, it sounds very viable on an adult. ;) Despite its popularity, I have to admit I like it; it reminds me of Wilfred Owen, who was a fantastic poet during WWI. You might've read "Dulce Et Decorum Est"--I remember we did in both freshman and sophomore year. In case you haven't, I'm going to paste the poem in here, because it's beautiful. Hard for me to read--depressing's too sunny a word for it--but it's beautiful.
DULCE ET DECORUM EST
Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind.
Gas! Gas! Quick, boys! – An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling,
And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime . . .
Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.
In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.
If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest13
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie; Dulce et Decorum est
Pro patria mori.
("Dulce et Decorum est Pro patria mori" translates to "It is sweet and honourable to die for your country," IIRC.)
Owen and Lilah sound absolutely fine together, though I have to admit to being biased towards one end of the sibset rather than the other. ;)
Owen Wilfred would be my first choice, but like I said--so much love for Wilfred Owen, lol. Owen Willard would sound really nice, too. Some others:
Owen Matthias
Owen Alexander
Owen Clancy
Owen Richard
Owen Lionel
Owen Ferdinand
Owen Quincy
Owen Antony
Owen Judah
Owen Christopher
Owen Joash
Owen Gregory
Owen Nikolai (the three-syllable-accent-on-first-syllable pattern--Ferdinand, Antony, Christopher, Gregory, Nikolai--sounds really nice with Owen, but I can't think of a lot of those names)
I think what I like is the dichotomy I seen in Owen; it can be the party boy or the literary-minded scholar, and it fits comfortably either way.
Array (would call an Owen "Mouse," she suspects)
She had fallen against the windows, which were pressed against the windows, which were pressed against the old oak near across the age of the old Aunt Sophronia--was almost dreadful enough to walk on.
A revolution without dancing is a revolution not worth having.
DULCE ET DECORUM EST
Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind.
Gas! Gas! Quick, boys! – An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling,
And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime . . .
Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.
In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.
If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest13
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie; Dulce et Decorum est
Pro patria mori.
("Dulce et Decorum est Pro patria mori" translates to "It is sweet and honourable to die for your country," IIRC.)
Owen and Lilah sound absolutely fine together, though I have to admit to being biased towards one end of the sibset rather than the other. ;)
Owen Wilfred would be my first choice, but like I said--so much love for Wilfred Owen, lol. Owen Willard would sound really nice, too. Some others:
Owen Matthias
Owen Alexander
Owen Clancy
Owen Richard
Owen Lionel
Owen Ferdinand
Owen Quincy
Owen Antony
Owen Judah
Owen Christopher
Owen Joash
Owen Gregory
Owen Nikolai (the three-syllable-accent-on-first-syllable pattern--Ferdinand, Antony, Christopher, Gregory, Nikolai--sounds really nice with Owen, but I can't think of a lot of those names)
I think what I like is the dichotomy I seen in Owen; it can be the party boy or the literary-minded scholar, and it fits comfortably either way.
Array (would call an Owen "Mouse," she suspects)
She had fallen against the windows, which were pressed against the windows, which were pressed against the old oak near across the age of the old Aunt Sophronia--was almost dreadful enough to walk on.
A revolution without dancing is a revolution not worth having.
This message was edited 5/24/2006, 10:52 AM
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