Category Archives: Shakespeare

“Fridge Magnets everywhere, lend me you ears!”

Posted on August 14, 2016 by | 3 comments
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Actual Fridge Inage from our Fridge

“To be
Or not to be…
Fridge Magnets?”
That’s not a question
For, Fridge Magnets is what we are
Being a Fridge Magnet is our raisin d’etre
Our reason for existing;
Our resistance to being a Fridge Magnet is futile
We state our message
Our quotation from the past
To the last
And we are proud
Never loud
Or allowed to be something
That we are not.
For without our inspirational words
A trip to the fridge would be pointless;
Would it not.

Unless… our being is just a fad;
‘That’ would be extremely bad;
If we were ignored by all and sundry
Who visited the refrigerator
From Monday to Sunday.
Our words, unheard?
How absurd!
With our comical tones
Or our thoughtful phrases
We were bought for a reason
Not for the changing of phases

But, now…
From new to old
Hot to cold
Wanted to…
unwanted.
How could life be so hard.
Take Will over there with his wise words from the Bard:
‘Nothing will come of nothing’
Well, that is pure genius, you see
But, you don’t ‘see’ any longer
And you may soon discard
What was once a treasure
As it is now a measure without measure.
And all may as well end
If, as you like us not
We are to be ungot
And not to be
Upon the fridge of frigididity.

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Posted in #Shakespeare, #ShakespeareLives, #ShakespeareTheBard, #Shakespeare, #BardlyWrit,, Poetry, Shakespeare

Today’s Tudor Times?

Posted on July 5, 2015 by | 1 comment

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Men and women…
Where in the world would you like to live?

I would like to live in a Shakespearean house
With an exit and an entrance
It’s just a stage that I am going through.

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Posted in Elizabethan, Shakespeare, Tudor

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Happy BardDay or Not HappyBardDay? #NaPoWriMo

Posted on April 23, 2015 by | 1 comment

Happy Bardday
To you
Born in the sixteenth
Died in the seventeenth
Both on the twenty-third
Of the fourth
Known as The Bard
Life was hard
But, he wrote the waves
And the plays

The thing is
That we still revere
His Lear
The last breath
Of Macbeth
His version of
The recently re-interred
Richard third,
And Hamlet, Henry Vee,
Benedict, Beatrice, witches three
And so much more that truth be told
I’ll still be learning them when I grow old.

Will: I tried forsooth to write as best I could / The die was cast, the cast did die; they would.

And, so, I exit stage left pursued by bears.

And a hey-nonny-no

I go!

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Posted in NaPoWriMo, napowrimo2015, Shakespeare, TheBard

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Haiku: ‘Nineteen’ (not-much) by Graeme Sandford

Posted on August 19, 2014 by | Leave a comment

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Nineteen, they do say,
Is a number of great state;
And… is today’s date.

‘N, N, N, Nineteen!’
Their average age was not…
It was twenty-two!

That is about it!
Nineteen is not really hot
In the number world.

Before is ‘eighteen’,
And after it is ‘twenty’
‘It’ is just ‘nineteen’.

No ‘Nineteen Wonders’
Nor ‘Nineteen Days of Christmas’
It’s not much at all.

One times ‘nineteen’ is…
And nineteen times one? Also…
Which is a poor show.

Three sixes are not;
And neither are six sevens;
It’s no ‘forty-two!’

Not a borrower
Nor a lender, give or take;
Nor step on a rake.

It is unlucky
In much the same way as is…
One-hundred and four.

It has little scope
When it comes down to our coins;
Twenty-pence is ‘more!’

It is that sad age
When a teenager is just
‘Almost’ an ‘unteen!’

It’s on a dart board,
At the bottom, by the three,
There; almost unseen.

It’s a number, yes,
On a twenty-four-hour clock
Sharing with seven.

It’s not the number
Of the cloud set for heaven
(‘Nine’ or ‘Eleven’).

It is just ‘nineteen’-
No ‘deadly sins’ hid within;
No ‘nineteen’ witches.

It is not at all
A number that’s likely to
Leave us in stitches.

‘Twenty-one shillings
Do make up one old ‘Guinea’
Two less than that is…

‘Nineteen!’ And the time
Of the Nineteenth Century
Was a while ago.

So, as for nineteen…
I haven’t a clue at all
What to write – do you?

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Posted in #nineteenifyoulike, @infograe, @poemmegroup, Haiku, hangerfarmpoets, poem, Poetry, Shakespeare, SouthamptonWriMos

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Haiku: ‘Seven’ by Graeme Sandford

Posted on August 7, 2014 by | Leave a comment

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The Seventh sun of…

A ‘normal’ week with seven…

Days in it. What fun!

Seven dwarves – oh, no!

That is not PC at all; /

Now one is grumpy; // (

Seventh place in race /

Doesn’t get a podium – /

Just the taking part. //

Seven Cs in words /

That are too long to write here – /

Or just don’t exist. //

The Seven Winders /

Of a strange mechanism, /

That needs winding… lots! //

The seventh haiku, /

That is placed sixth – in order / –

To confuse people. //

The Seven Ages… /

Of Man – as Shakespeare did write, /

Before ‘his’ death scene. ///

NB try as I might, the edit feature refuses to let me put this as 7 haikus – sorry for the strange look, but I have now separated the lines and the haikus with slashes and double-slashes – normal service may be resumed. G;)

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Posted in @poemmegroup, Funny, Haiku, hangerfarmpoets, infograe, poem, Poetry, Seven, Shakespeare

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Haiku: ‘Three’ by Graeme Sandford

Posted on August 3, 2014 by | Leave a comment

R3-news-th

“I, Richard the Third,

Was true born King of England:

You call me ‘Crookback!’

–

Which is, I do think,

A little unfair: you see,

The Tudors, they lied!

=

I was a good king;

And Henry Tudor had ‘luck’

Not ‘God’ on his side.”

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Posted in @poemmegroup, Haiku, hangerfarmpoets, infograe, poem, Poetry, Shakespeare, SouthamptonWriMos

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Haiku: ‘Two’ by Graeme Sandford

Posted on August 2, 2014 by | Leave a comment

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Hamlet: the great dane:
Said ‘To be… or not to be?’
And ‘not’: ‘When is lunch?’

William Shakespeare
Wrote about that tragic tale
In ‘Hamlet’ the play.

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Posted in @infograe, @poemmegroup, Haiku, hangerfarmpoets, poem, Poetry, Shakespeare, toe-in-the-water

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Poets Die In Hot Cars

Posted on July 15, 2014 by | Leave a comment

Poets die in hot cars;

While doggerels lay exhausted in the heat of the midday sun

Lacking fluid and needing the shadow

Of Autum-te-dum leaves.

The sweat of a writer’s brow trickles between lashes

And splashes of colour lighten up an otherwise dull shade of grey.

Old tomes lie, unread, unnoticed and largely unwanted
when minute devices carry their weight lightly
Politely giving up their words at the press of a button
Although some would think of Shakespeare as Lamb dressed up like Milton.
Or Brie compared to Stilton.

Poems die in a bright non-blaze of apathy
Lounging in cupboards and drawers; spouting off about charges and wars
When all the people want is a quick laugh

Then another

Without too much bother
“Brother, can you spare the time to read a book?”
“A what?”
And so it goes
Where it will end
Nobody knows.
The written word is fading and blurred
And will be long forgotten
When all things have occurred
That are happening now.
Learning to read?
What is the need?

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Posted in @poemmegroup, Funny, hangerfarmpoets, infograe, poem, Poetry, Shakespeare, SouthamptonWriMos

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Remember Remember

Posted on April 26, 2014 by | Leave a comment

At the break of the day,
And at the setting of the sun;
At the approach of the darling buds of May
When all is lost or won
When push comes to shove
And minds and hearts to love
Then shall you be free
To choose to win to lose
For as you walk along the valley of the shallow half-breath
You shall fear no-one
And none this day shall be afear’d
That lie abed and count themselves unlucky to have been so.

For those that have gone
Those that are
And those yet to be
Or not
May we be truly thankful

 

 

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Posted in @infograe, @napowrimo2014, @poemmegroup, Funny, hangerfarmpoets, HelpMe Group, NaPoWriMo, poem, Poetry, Shakespeare, SouthamptonWriMos, toe-in-the-water, War Poem?

Book Lovers’ Lament by Graeme Sandford

Posted on April 24, 2014 by | 1 comment

Poets die in hot cars;

While doggerels lay exhausted in the heat of the midnight sun

Lacking fluid and needing the shadow

Of Autum-te-dum leaves.

The sweat of a writer’s brow trickles between lashes

And splashes of colour lighten up an otherwise dull shade of grey.

Old tomes lie, unread, unnoticed and largely unwanted
when minute devices carry their weight lightly
Politely giving up their words at the press of a button
Although some would think of Shakespeare as Lamb dressed up like Milton.
Or Brie compared to Stilton.

Poems die in a bright non-blaze of apathy
Lounging in cupboards and drawers; spouting off about charges and wars
When all the people want is a quick laugh

Then another

Without too much bother
“Brother, can you spare the time to read a book?”
“A what?”
And so it goes
Where it will end
Nobody knows.
The written word is fading and blurred
And will be long forgotten
When all things have occurred
That are happening now.
Learning to read?
What is the need?

1 Comment

Posted in @infograe, @napowrimo2014, @poemmegroup, Funny, hangerfarmpoets, HelpMe Group, NaPoWriMo, poem, Poetry, Shakespeare, Thursday, toe-in-the-water

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