Listening to the play,
obsessing on the words,
what Ophelia will say,
the melee with the swords.
.
A radio adaption,
scene by unseen action,
and imagine all the people—
yes, all of them, go on!
One, two, three—
Yes, even the ones
that you do not know;
the ones that eat scones
and the ones that eat scones;
the sloths and the sparrows
(in people terms, that is)
and when your imagination narrows,
perhaps admit that the rest are embroiled
in silence.
Posted in Poetry
Tagged #Hamlet, #Imagine, #Lennon, #play, #poetry. #poem, @Shakespeare
“Bonjour!”
It’s too hot for soup;
too cold for ice-cream –
how this has come about
I just do not know;
so, ‘Soup’s off!’
and the ice-cream has ‘melted, thawed,
and resolved itself into a dew’.
“Adieu!”
.
NB Thanks must go to W.S. for his line from Hamlet.
A parrot called Shakespeare
fell off of his perch,
and started to act all peculiar:
‘Once more!’ he did squawk.
‘Out, damned spot! Out, I say!’
Spot was the dog, a small Dachshund,
‘Out, out, Brief Candle!’
Brief Candle, the cat, left the room.
‘When shall we three meet again?’
but Spot and Brief Candle
were not there to answer;
‘The handle toward my hand!’
Shakespeare broke into breakdance;
but that parrot was no kind of dancer.
.
The vet was called
Yvette;
and she finally decided
that there was trouble at the millet.
.
And on that pun
I shall leave here
at a pace
that will be considered
on the run.
‘Shakespeare in Looe.’
The Bard did advance from Liskeard
in a sort of 9-days dance – a la Will Kemp – stopping off upon occasion to compare things to other things.
Nowadays, he would have caught the train; but, then, he preferred to walk upon his ‘legges two’
‘Shall I compare thee to a five-bar gate?
Which is a useful item, at any rate.’
and the like.
With him was his trusty sidekick, Ben – a comedy duo they claimed to be, that went under the name of ‘Will & Ben: Renaissance Men.
‘I say, I say, I say’, quothed Will, ‘Is this a dagger that I see before me?’
‘No.’ answered Ben, ‘ ‘tis The Globe.’
‘ ‘The’ Globe?’ queriéd Will, ‘My wooden O?’
‘No.’ answered Ben, again, ‘ ‘tis just a public house going by the name of…‘ (SFX dramatic chords)
‘… The Globe.’
Ah, well, all’s ale that ends, well, you know what I mean, dear Ben.’
‘More than most; but, all in that only a little, my liege, my fool.’
‘Don’t knock what thou doesn’t understand, Ben.’
‘Knock? Knock? Spake thus Ben, bemusédly.
‘Who’s there?’ responded Will.
‘Ben, my Lord-loon, like as well you know it.
‘Ben, my Lord-loon who?’ asked Will.
‘Jonson! How many times must I remind you?
‘Thrice a hundred, more if there is a Tuesday in the week.’
And thus, with much ado, they arrived in Looe.
Posted in Poetry
Tagged #Liskeard, #Looe, #poetry. #poem, @Shakespeare, birthday, Cornwall, Kernow
To be,
or not ‘not’ to be;
that is no question;
it is merely the saying
of the same thing…
in differing ways.
To not be,
or not to ‘not’ be;
is just confusing,
and aren’t we
already confused enough?
That is a question –
although it may,
or may not, be
a rhetorical one.
‘Shakespeare in Looe.’
The Bard did advance from Liskeard
in a sort of 9-days dance – a la Will Kemp – stopping off upon occasion to compare things to other things.
Nowadays, he would have caught the train; but, then, he preferred to walk upon his ‘legges two’
‘Shall I compare thee to a five-bar gate?
Which is a useful item, at any rate.’
and the like.
With him was his trusty sidekick, Ben – a comedy duo they claimed to be, that went under the name of ‘Will & Ben: Renaissance Men.
‘I say, I say, I say’, quothed Will, ‘Is this a dagger that I see before me?’
‘No.’ answered Ben, ‘ ‘tis The Globe.’
‘ ‘The’ Globe?’ queriéd Will, ‘My wooden O?’
‘No.’ answered Ben, again, ‘ ‘tis just a public house going by the name of…‘ (SFX dramatic chords)
‘… The Globe.’
Ah, well, all’s ale that ends, well, you know what I mean, dear Ben.’
‘More than most; but, all in that only a little, my liege, my fool.’
‘Don’t knock what thou doesn’t understand, Ben.’
‘Knock? Knock? Spake thus Ben, bemusédly.
‘Who’s there?’ responded Will.
‘Ben, my Lord-loon, like as well you know it.
‘Ben, my Lord-loon who?’ asked Will.
‘Jonson! How many times must I remind you?
‘Thrice a hundred, more if there is a Tuesday in the week.’
And thus, with much ado, they arrived in Looe.
Posted in Poetry
Tagged #Cornwqll, #Looe, #poetry. #poem, #RenaissanceMen, #willandben, @Shakespeare
I had wood –
good wood,
it should be stated –
and felt the need
to created a wooden awning.
Yawning, from it being early
morning,
I decided to do it well,
lest I could be derided
for the amateur contrivance –
the neighbours would give me ‘hell-
o, what’s that then?’
To plan’s the thing
wherein I’ll catch the confidence
of the kingdom.
Shall I compare thee to a brewer’s dray?
Thou art not the sort to take that too well;
So, upon your face I shall not now dwell,
And be careful here what I deign to say,
Or shall not see the darling buds of May.
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