I've named a lot of my bows, usually when there's a reason to give them a name. One bow I have is named "Sleeping Beauty". Some years ago I bought an old osage stave from a man in Illinois. He said he had cut it FIFTY years before and stored the stave in his attic never finishing it.
When the stave became a bow I gave it it's name and wrote this poem on the belly of the bottom limb.
"Fifty years as a stave I slept
my fate uncertain my promise un'kept
for love of beauty and days of old
a bowyer came forth with hands so bold
he finished the task, he set me free
to be the bow I was meant to be."
Sleeping Beauty on Shrew Hill in Michigan's U P