Tag Archives: @Shakespeare

‘Beware the Ideas of March!’ – Revisited!

‘Beware the ideas of March!’

an old woman once said to me.

‘Seize her!’ I had cried,

tears falling from my eyes.

And, yet, I still had ideas,

above and beyond my station,

which caused my desecration

by a dozen or so knives –

after the first few I wasn’t counting –

amounting to my demise.

‘Et tu, Brute?’

I managed, before I croaked;

‘No, I ate them all!’ Brutus, he joked.

Luckily, his reply was lost to me.

I had not seen my ending coming,

sore that it was,

and, so I did concur

that my life was completed

with such ‘infamy’ –

I should have listened to her.

A break in the clouds

There was a moment…

That reminds me of Rozencrantz

and Guildenstern, courtesy of Tom,

when they looked back

and saw the possibility

of a different outcome.


Anyway – I am easily sidetracked –

the Sun came out,

and I had just set the fire to ‘Roar!’

What am I going to do with all this heat?

Soon the sweet sweat shall pour!

Beware the Tides of March

“Beware the Tides of March;

they will rise,

then they will fall,

then rise again,

then fall,


then rise, as if there were

some unknowable sequence of Nature

at play.

What I’m saying is,

watch out!”

Ugly Duckling

‘There once was an ugly duckling –

turned out to be a baby swan –

rookie error!’ said the crow.


The rook took offence to this.

‘Now listen here,’ he started,

‘You crows always diss

us rooks.

I know we haven’t got your looks,

or the brains that you were born with;

but we knows the difference

between a duckling and a cygnet,

a hawk and a handsaw,

and chalk and cheese.

‘So, please, will you stop

looking down upon my kind?’


The crow, looked below,

and asked the rook,

‘Why is a Raven like a writing desk?’

The rook didn’t know the answer,

and the crow wasn’t telling.


The rook flew off, yelling,

‘You think you’re a clever so-and-so,

but it isn’t just me that doesn’t know!’


This was true, but the crow

held the higher ground,

from which position

he’s always found

that a positive claim

would bring him fame –

whether he was correct or not.

I had rather—

I had rather hear a crow

bark at a dog,

than the other way round;

but, Shakespeare knew what he meant,

and I know him

better than he knows me.

The Seven Ages of Man vs. The Four Stages of a Butterfly.

Which is great as a title goes;

but, what can ‘I’ write upon the subject?

Who knows?

I am no leopardopterist,

and certainly no Shakespeare;

my words are too pedantic

to compare,

if I said I was,

I should grow a long nose.


You may feel

a little short-changed

if you


to read

my last post.

But, please be aware,

that not all that glisters is not gold;

that aphorism is good to hold

on to…

And if you can,

please do.

Asking for an imaginary friend upon the anniversary of Shakespeare’s alleged birthday.

Is there – my friend would like to know –

any reason


most poetry

is so rubbish?

My friend would like to be excused

from having one’s ears sorely abused

by being forced to listen to acrid rhymes.

Sacred, are the times

when the rest is silence –

as the Bard wroted.

Which Bard, it should be noted,

was also a poet –

my friend says that they endured one of his sonnets,

but wasn’t sure how far to throw it.

Nerdle and Bardle

Numbers and Shakespeare,

what’s not to like?

It all adds up

to a mindful conclusion;

Ariel from The Tempest,

and Arden from the Sum of the Dream,

both seem a part of the whole,

a Bard of the Soul,

a solution of worth,

Labours Lost in such mirth,

and All’s Well

That Ends…


Flies and Bees

A fly asked itself one day,

‘To fly or not to fly?’

and then chose to fly.

A bee, on the other hand,

would ask whether,

‘To Bee or not to Bee?’

Beecause Bees

have that much more gravitas.