To be or not to be,
or not to be to be;
that is the question
that I am asking you,
the question
that is tasking me,
is whether I should carry on
my wayward son
or right here, right now,
cease to be
or not to be.
Shakespeare?
Here?
Today?
Are you sure he will appear?
I’ve been to other poetry shindigs
where they promised you the big-wigs;
but, all we seem to get
are not the real McCoy.
And, yet, I keep on hoping
that one day the Bard will show –
Today? Tomorrow? Tomorrow?
and… tomorrow?
When will you know?
You sent an invite to his agent
and have never had reply;
that always seems to be the case
I really wonder why.
Okay, I shall live in hope
that one day soon
the Bard of Avon
will ring the bell
“Bard of Avon calling!”
And all will be well that endeth well.
The poems won’t write themselves!
I wish they could
It would save me work
Not that i’m one to shirk
But, the words just appearing
Upon the page
Is just not going to happen.
And there’s the rubbish
That I spout forth
Parodying, plagiarising and pastiching
My poet Bard, the Will
Of Avon;
To him,
I am Anon.
Hamlet Haiku 2b
“You remember it:
It’s: ‘To be or not to be…’ “
“What was the question?”
Hamlet speaks his last –
Once all the action is done –
“The rest is silence”
In the play ‘Hamlet’,
Rosencrantz and Guildenstern
Meet unhappy ends.
Linda G Hill’s SoCS Challenge ‘ Contrast’
Contrast this
To my usual stuff.
I have set the timer for 10-minutes
And I don’t know what
I am going to write about.
I’m even writing it
In poetry form
Even though
It is prose.
Now, that may seem strange
To you
(Unless you know me)
But, I assure you
That I like to contrast
My work at times
Mix up the rhymes
With wit, humour, levity-
Which are all basically the same –
And give you fresh new view
Points
From which to look
At my work
I do not shirk
From switching between
Poetry and prose
I’m not one of those people
That is stuck
In a rut.
However, I must just be serious for a moment…
… right, I’m back to the silly stuff.
Picture me
With a ruff
Doing my stuff
In sixteen hundred
Or just before
(Not four o’clock
In the afternoon, no)
Elizabethan, just about to become Jacobean
Through no fault of mine own
My quill at the ready
And words to write
Well, picture me now
With my mobile phone
Tapping in ideas
Cutting and pasting,
Deleting,
Looking up a spelling on an online thesaurus
And what a contrast
There is.
Would I rather have my life
Or his?
To be honest.
I would give quite a lot
To spend a little
Time
In the land of Shakespearean rhyme.
And, having been there,
I could certainly put the Shakespearean theory
Of authorship to bed
(Or second best bed)
For once and for all
And all for once
(Sorry, that was Dumas – and I was being a Dumass).
Contrasting opinions held
Would be exploded
The myth would live
Or die
Or carry on up the creek
With out a paddle.*
*timer sounded here.
