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.
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
tried
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.
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.
One day, a bee said to another bee,
‘Have you heard young Willy Shakesbee?’
‘No.’ said the second bee,
‘What is it with he?’
‘Well…’ said the first bee,
‘He is wondering aloud whether,
‘tis better to bee, or not to bee!’
‘Ahh!’ said the second bee,
‘I think he is an actorbee,
rehearsing his role in the bee tragedy.’
‘The bee tragedy?’ asked the first bee.
‘Yes, ‘Beelet the Great Bane’,
or ‘Let it Bee’, as it is oft referred to.’
‘Ah.’ said the first bee.
SD there is a pause
‘But I thought he was a writerbee,
not an actorbee.’
‘Well, we know he’s not a fighter bee
or a workerbee, maybee he’s just getting into the role as a writerbee must if he is to write anything of import.’
‘Shouldn’t that bee import ants?’ quoth the bee whose turn it was to quoth.
‘Ha! You are a comedianbee!’ sniggered the other bee.
‘That I am, that I am.’ quoth this bee or that bee.
‘Quick! Let us bee off, beefore the Queen marries Beelet’s Uncle.’
SD They both Exit stage left pursued by bees.
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.