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.
By the Book (sic)
Bardly Writ
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Tag Archives: @Shakespeare
William Shakesbee
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.
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.
Posted in Poetry
Tagged #Hamlet, #Imagine, #Lennon, #play, #poetry. #poem, @Shakespeare
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.
Posted in Poetry
Tagged #Liskeard, #Looe, #poetry. #poem, @Shakespeare, birthday, Cornwall, Kernow
“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.
Posted in Poetry
Tagged #Cornwqll, #Looe, #poetry. #poem, #RenaissanceMen, #willandben, @Shakespeare
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.
