Tag Archives: @Shakespeare

Imagining Hamlet

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.

Re: Claim

I staked my claim

back in ‘62,

was given a name

by ‘you-know-who’,

grew up bad

or good

depending on the situation,

and here I am,

under evaluation.

.

‘21, where I am now,

got myself here,

don’t quite know how;

and here I am,

all covered in mud,

with a hint of Turmeric

running through my blood.

.

Yes, I know,

that I write bad verse;

but, if anybody read it,

it could be much worse,

‘Worse than what?’

I hear nobody ask.

Ask me another,

increase my task;

and maybe one day,

when the weather is right,

I’ll write a ‘proper’ poem –

I might, I just might.

.

So, on and on

the words they go,

is there no log-jam

to the endless flow?

I’ll stop when I think you’ve had enough;

when times are good,

and rhymes are rough,

I’ll be the Bard

with quill and ruff.

It’s too hot / too cold

“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

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.’ (Reposted upon the Bard’s 457th Birthday)

‘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.

“To be… “

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.’

‘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.

In the morning, yawning, I set my mind to the making of a colourful wooden awning.

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.

“123, 456 – hey, Shakespeare dude, how’s tricks?”

“456 years…

456 Shakespeares…

to be

that old

and not to be

forgotten

must mean that

the Shakespeare dude

was someone special.

And every day

He is still having his say,

in poem and play.

Happy Bard Day, dude!”

Shall I compare thee to a Brewer’s Dray? Sonnet XVIII

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.