Hamlet: Who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscovered country from whose bourn
No traveler returns, puzzles the will
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
line from Hamlet, Act III, Scene 1 by William Shakespeare (1599)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Related quotes
Chatter Chief Of Staff Application 1331 After William Shakespeare Hamlet's Soliloquy
To verse, or role reverse, that's in the question,
when writer's block may cause some indigestion -
[with contests tougher then the going's rougher] -
Whether ‘tis nobler in the mind to suffer
the strings and sorrows of outrageous scribblers,
the binges of obsessional dribblers,
the noisy cutters' red, black, unread bubbles:
or to take arms against such teething troubles
and by opposing, end them? Still keep one's cool,
guide, bona fide, and gladly suffer fools?
There's surely something wrong in A.P. rules
when talent's topsy-turvy turned by ghouls,
when terms of reference ability are not retained.
Here trophy credibility must be regained.
For here are pressing claims and urgent needs,
though many try, scarce one percent succeeds -
and one percent of these may save their soul
as contest pressures take their toll
of high ideals, oft leaving empty shell
and little else as epitaph, - ah well!
Fame, fickle, tithes her victims. Writers' knell
tolls far more frequently than curtain bell.
Thus those who would their sacred dream preserve,
who from rhyme's chiming path would never swerve,
must make much sacrifice. To serve, - observe,
the scene, and by to serve we mean to fend -
(or else to disillusion most descend) -
the heartburn and the thousand natural shocks
rejection's heir to when rejection knocks.
Are value judgements devoutly to be wished
when versatility by contest rigging's dished?
Our scribes just fate deserve. To serve, observe
the entry they reserve too often stands
ignored, spinsterlike longing for unknown hands,
the shining silver, gold, bronze thus reject
the restless queue, as order ready-pecked,
full of sound and fury points a clue
shows some exchange their trophies. Much ado
'bout nothing scribblers screeding sticky caps
with spelling errors knitting self-writ traps...
To write, page lighting wait. Oh what a weight -
especially where some poetry postdate!
A.P. needs change so fairly dreams may come
when shuffled off the uniform, brain numb,
to often dumb, eraser rubs. Where's the respect?
Aspirant writers though they introspect
earn due reward to compensate long hours,
so unacknowledged, taxing all their powers.
expending energy for scant applause
as others benefit at their expense,
to few the points, to most so little sense.
For who would bear these whips and scorns for long,
envy contumely, commentator's wrong,
the pangs of wasted lines, free-versed, despised, -
(the impudence where, uninvited, eyed
the worthless stranger who advances tried,
who may not be so easily denied
in public places audience - we've cried!) -
Waste in untasted verse, those long delays,
days melting into nights, nights into days,
the insolence of judges, the sharp spurns
that patient merit from the unworthy takes.
When writer might some true quietus make
with rare home cooking? Who would fardels bear,
insults A.P., with little time to spare,
to grunt and sweat under a wordy life
with strife at work, A.P., through envy, - strife!
But that the dread of nothing else to do,
lest dreams sound hollow, isolation too,
or kids to mind, rent find and clothing too, -
threats unemployment act upon morale.
‘Tis true, and all too often ça fait mal!
The options open often puzzle will,
and make us rather bear those ills we have
than fly to others that we know not of.
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all,
for few will answer truly to life's call.
Thus the native hue of resolution
is sicklied over with pale cast of thought
losing all instinctive love of writing!
Should one desire to act upon dire fate,
ambitions fire! React! No longer wait!
then the principles inspire to undertake
cooperation by your side, correct mistake
create a pool of judges early, late,
who either added are to contests' weight
or offer critiques daily of the fate
doled out to worthy writers ill displaced
by favorites applauseless trophy placed.
The Chatterer should Mission Statement draft
to standards raise as current wordy draught
blows best away - we witness with disgust
both fore and aft enthusiasms bust
by mini groups with macro pains to spill
on others where no praise may ever fill
the offline void some here avoid with just
a minimum of contact, feathers fussed.
On Mission Statement we could dwell awhile,
with workshops, shining sense and grooming style,
but who can guarantee attention span
with four thoughts max, as forethought many ban?
One could continue till the cows come home
to roost, to working shed, led docile in the gloam,
conclusion's called for here so I perceive
with Chatterer to booster A.P. heave
sigh of relief as quality improves,
emotions interplay - which feeling moves -
ambition principled and well perceived
to Karma adds Divine as verse we leave.
Hamlet's Soliloquy
To be, or not to be: that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them.
To die: to sleep;
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache, and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to.
'Tis a consumation Devoutly to be wish'd.
To die, to sleep;
To Sleep? Perchance to dream! aye there's the rub;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause: there's the respect
That makes calamity of such long life;
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pang's of depised love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office, and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscovered country from whose bourn
No traveler returns, puzzles the will,
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all,
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pitch and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry
And lose the name of action.
William Shakespeare Hamlet
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Soliloquy of the first time buyer
To buy, or not to buy: That is the Question.
Whether it is better in the end to suffer
The moods and whims of some outrageous landlord
Or take A.R.M.S. against your future earnings
And end up owning something? In hock, for years;
Pay rent? And by paying rent to say we end
The heart ache and the thousand natural shocks
Home ownership is heir to. Reduced Consumption?
No Politician’s wish! To rent? To lease?
To lease, perchance to own? Ay, that’s a thought
For in the grip of debt you’re paying bills
Till you have shuffled off this mortal coil
It gives one pause. That’s the aspect
That makes calamity of adjusting rates
For who would bear the years and years of debt
Fine dining now reduced to happy meals,
Buyers remorse, and the long delays.
The Questionable title and the risk
Your credit rating doesn’t rate the loan.
When you yourself know if you lose your job
You’ll end up sleeping in your S.U.V.
To grunt and sweat under a heavy load
Under the threat of something worse than debt
The forced short sale, from which, once closed
No equity returns. It puzzles the will.
And makes us rather bear such debts we have
And, if necessary, refinance them still.
Compounding thus make cowards of us all.
And so our youthful promise and ambition
Is hobbled by the weight of student loans
Made by lenders judged too big to fail.
In this regard the risk is very real
We lose the house to auction.
quote by by John F. McCullagh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Universal Traveler
Universal Traveler - Air
(Talkie Walkie; Trans. by Tish)
I know so many
Places in the world
I follow the sun
In my silver plane
Universal traveler
Universal traveler
Universal traveler
Universal traveler
If you have a look
Outside on the sea
Everything is white
It's so wonderful
Universal traveler
Universal traveler
Universal traveler
Universal traveler
So far
So far
So far away
I met so many
People in my life
I've got many friends
Who can care for me
Universal traveler
Universal traveler
Universal traveler
Universal traveler
Trust fills everywhere ?
And tomorrow
Is a brand new day
Let's go somewhere else
Universal traveler
Universal traveler
Universal traveler
Universal traveler
So far
So far
So far away
So far
So far
So far away
So far
So far
So far away
So far
So far
So far away
song performed by by Air
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Only for you
I can bear any insult
I can bear any misdeed
I can bear any oppression
I can bear the wounds of love or
Those of hatred
I can bear everything
But only for you God
Only for you.
poem by Mohammad Akmal Nazir
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Face Up
Ever since Ive seen your face
This life of mine has gone to waste
I was young and you were old
And I always knew you were cold
At the start you had a heart
But in the end you lost your friend
Can you see your own dark face?
Its dieing in a lonely place
Oh, how I cannot bear the thought of you
I said, oh, how I cannot bear the thought of you
As we get old, we lose our place
Reflecting back the worlds disgrace
I feel so low, I feel so humble
Sometimes in life we take a tumble
Dont let anybody tell you that youre no good
Cause you know they would
Dont let anybody tell you what you should do
Cause its not that way and...
Oh, how I cannot bear the thought of you
I said, oh, how I cannot bear the thought of you
We were young and we were pure
And life was just an open door
I said oh, oh, how I cannot bear the thought of you
You were me and I was you
This world of ours it felt brand new
You took me a little further...
I heard it all before, Ive heard it all before
I cant hear it anymore
Your hair was long, your eyes was blue
Guess what Im gonna do to you
Oh, how I cannot bear the thought of you
I said, oh, how I cannot bear the thought of you
We were young and we were pure
And life was just an open door
I said oh, oh, how I cannot bear the thought...
Oh, how I cannot bear the thought of you
I said oh, oh, how I cannot bear the thought of you
We were young and we were pure...
song performed by by New Order
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A strong Bear, a poor cave
A quarrel took place,
Between a tight, narrow cave,
and a huge, black, hairy bear.
the poor cave was afraid of,
her narrowness,
the bear had no fear.
Actually, the bear was
in search of a cave,
where he could spent
his night merrily,
his mission was to hide himself,
by all means, fair or unfair.
The bear begged the shelter,
from the cave to get entered,
but cave denied.
she said, ' I am not wide.
if I take you in,
you may get me in trouble,
every thing mine get in disorder.
how can you stay in me quite?
seek other place to-night.'
The bear snored a loud,
as if, thunders of big cloud.
huge bear tried getting forcibly in,
smiled and said, 'I have to win.
O' poor cave, see my strong body,
look at my height!
I am quite black,
while you are white.
you are unaware of facts,
you are mine, my cave,
you are made for me.
I know, you think yourself too small,
If I enter, you will be torn,
and might get burst,
but it is nothing like this,
surrender yourself
before me silently.
or I will react violently.
the little cave said nothing,
but tried to scape herself,
with all her might.
thrusting the bear out.
Bear so huge, no doubt.
He tried utmost entering forcibly,
getting success a little bit.
until the cave burst,
the bear continued to hit.
At last, a hot bloody stream,
blew out of the cave.
It couldn't itself save.
It was torn and oozing sweat.
the huge bear was running,
in and out very smoothly,
Poor cave, in this struggle,
has become out.
the bear has come first, no doubt.
....................................... ............
poem by Rani Madhubala
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The bear is what we all wrestle with. Everybody has their bear in life. It's about conquering that bear and letting him go.
quote by Jennifer Lopez
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fortinbras: Let four captains bear Hamlet, like a soldier, to the stage; for he was likely, had he been put on, to have proved most royally: and, for his passage, the soldiers' music and the rites of war speak loudly for him. Take up the bodies: such a sight as this becomes the field, but here shows much amiss. Go, bid the soldiers shoot.
line from Hamlet, Act V, Scene 2 by William Shakespeare (1599)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Try A Little Tenderness
(harry woods/jimmy campbell/reg connelly)
Oh she may be weary
Young girls they do got weary
Wearing that same old shabby dress
Yeah yeah yeah
But when she gets weary
Try a little tenderness
Oh yeah, thats all you gotta do
You know shes there waiting
Just anticipating
Things that shell never, never possess
No no no
But while shes there waiting
Try a little tenderness
Its not just sentimental, no no no no
She has her grief and cares
But the soft words
That are spoke so gently, yeah
It makes it easier, easier to bear
You wont regret it
Young girls they dont forget it
Love is their only happiness
Yeah yeah yeah
Its so so easy
Try a little tenderness
You know what I mean
But the soft words
They are spoken so gently, yeah, yeah
It makes it easier, easier to bear
She may be weary
Young girls they do got weary
Wearing that same old shabby dress
Yeah yeah yeah
But when she gets weary
Try a little tenderness
Yeah, a little tenderness
Thats all youve gotta do
Listen to me
Try, try, try, try
One time for the last time
A little bit of tenderness
Tenderness, tenderness
Ooh, need you, I love you
I want you tonight, love me, baby
A little bit of tenderness
song performed by by Rod Stewart
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Prayer, Under The Pressure Of Violent Anguish
O Thou Great Being! what Thou art,
Surpasses me to know;
Yet sure I am, that known to Thee
Are all Thy works below.
Thy creature here before Thee stands,
All wretched and distrest;
Yet sure those ills that wring my soul
Obey Thy high behest.
Sure, Thou, Almighty, canst not act
From cruelty or wrath!
O, free my weary eyes from tears,
Or close them fast in death!
But, if I must afflicted be,
To suit some wise design,
Then man my soul with firm resolves,
To bear and not repine!
poem by Robert Burns
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Under The Pressure Of Violent Anguish
O Thou Great Being! what Thou art,
Surpasses me to know;
Yet sure I am, that known to Thee
Are all Thy works below.
Thy creature here before Thee stands,
All wretched and distrest;
Yet sure those ills that wring my soul
Obey Thy high behest.
Sure, Thou, Almighty, canst not act
From cruelty or wrath!
O, free my weary eyes from tears,
Or close them fast in death!
But, if I must afflicted be,
To suit some wise design,
Then man my soul with firm resolves,
To bear and not repine!
poem by Robert Burns
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We deem those happy who from the experience of life have learnt to bear its ills without being overcome by them.
Bear Creek
Way up on bear creek watching the sun go down.
Way up on bear creek watching the sun go down.
It makes me feel like, Im on my last go round.
The water on bear creek tastes like cherry wine.
The water on bear creek tastes like cherry wine.
You take one drink of it, your tasting it all the time.
If you stay on bear creek youll get like jesse james.
If you stay on bear creek youll get like jesse james.
Youll take two old pistols, and hold up that bear creek train.
Im going high high up on some lonesome hill.
Im going high high up on some lonesome hill.
Look down on bear creek, where my good gal used to live.
song performed by by John Prine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Don Juans Song
The moon is in an ecstasy,
It wanes not nor can grow ;
The heavens are in a mist of love,
And deepest knowledge know :
What things in nature seem to move
Bear love as I bear love ?
And bear my pleasures so?
I bear my love as streams that bear
The sky still flow or shake :
Though deep within, too far on high.
Light blossoms kiss and wake
The waters sooner than the sky ;
And if they kiss and (lie
God made them frail to break.
poem by Isaac Rosenberg
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Twice Times
There were Two Little Bears who lived in a Wood,
And one of them was Bad and the other was Good.
Good Bear learnt his Twice Times One -
But Bad Bear left all his buttons undone.
They lived in a Tree when the weather was hot,
And one of them was Good, and the other was Not.
Good Bear learnt his Twice Times Two -
But Bad Bear's thingummies were worn right through.
They lived in a Cave when the weather was cold,
And they Did, and they Didn't Do, what they were told.
Good Bear learnt his Twice Times Three -
But Bad Bear never had his hand-ker-chee.
They lived in the Wood with a Kind Old Aunt,
And one said 'Yes'm,' and the other said 'Shan't!'
Good Bear learnt his Twice Times Four -
But Bad Bear's knicketies were terrible tore.
And then quite suddenly (just like Us)
One got Better and the other got Wuss.
Good Bear muddled his Twice Times Three -
But Bad Bear coughed in his hand-ker-chee!
Good Bear muddled his Twice Times Two -
But Bad Bear's thingummies looked like new.
Good Bear muddled his Twice Times One -
But Bad Bear never left his buttons undone.
There may be a Moral, though some say not;
I think there's a moral, though I don't know what.
But if one gets better, as the other gets wuss,
These Two Little Bears are just like Us.
For Christopher remembers up to Twice Times Ten ...
But I keep forgetting where I put my pen.*
* So I have had to write this one in pencil.
poem by Alan Alexander Milne
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The Bachelor's Soliloquy
To wed, or not to wed; that is the question;
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The bills and house rent of a wedded fortune,
Or to say "nit" when she proposes,
And by declining cut her. To wed; to smoke
No more; And have a wife at home to mend
The holes in socks and shirts
And underwear and so forth. 'Tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wished. To wed for life;
To wed; perchance to fight; ay, there's the rub;
For in that married life what fights may come,
When we have honeymooning ceased
Must give us pause; there's the respect
That makes the joy of single life.
For who would bear her mother's scornful tongue,
Canned goods for tea, the dying furnace fire;
The pangs of sleepless nights when baby cries;
The pain of barking shins upon a chair and
Closing waists that button down the back,
When he himself might all these troubles shirk
With a bare refusal? Who would bundles bear,
And grunt and sweat under a shopping load?
Who would samples match; buy rats for hair,
Cart cheese and crackers home to serve at night
For lunch to feed your friends; play pedro
After tea; sing rag time songs, amusing
Friendly neighbors. Buy garden tools
To lend unto the same. Stay home at nights
In smoking coat and slippers and slink to bed
At ten o'clock to save the light bills?
Thus duty does make cowards of us all,
And thus the native hue of matrimony
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of chores;
And thus the gloss of marriage fades away,
And loses its attraction.
poem by Edgar Albert Guest
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A Desolaltion
Now mind is clear
as a cloudless sky.
Time then to make a
home in wilderness.
What have I done but
wander with my eyes
in the trees? So I
will build: wife,
family, and seek
for neighbors.
Or I
perish of lonesomeness
or want of food or
lightning or the bear
(must tame the hart
and wear the bear).
And maybe make an image
of my wandering, a little
image—shrine by the
roadside to signify
to traveler that I live
here in the wilderness
awake and at home.
poem by Allen Ginsberg
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O, My Friend, Be With Me!
O My friend, be with me,
On the path of life,
Full of stones and thorns,
Breeze and storms.
walking along with you,
all I feel well, fresh and light always!
You bear your pain, you fight with them,
I can't fight for you or you can't for me,
but our hearts wishing good for one another,
Makes all difference,
well, it can make all look different!
O, My Friend, my faith in you.
And smile on your face,
eyes shine when you crack joke,
my mind feel light,
when your teeth twinkle,
between smiling lips,
show my path even in dark!
I can bear my pain easily,
when you are with me,
neither you bear my pains and strains, nor I Ask you to,
only I and you can share the beauty of life,
My burden look light when you walk along with me!
But if you are away I can't bear the weight of heart,
heavy it becomes,
without breeze your smile,
Or without the jokes and thoughts
you share with me!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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Death and I
When death comes
I’ll need not love –
Consumed,
No wreath or dove
Could offer me salvation,
Not when I’m no more.
A weathered stone will bear my name –
Identity of once a being
Living out existence in
A world of risk, and never seeing
Sense of why we’re here.
My genes will die away thro’ child –
Hue of eyes and hair, the way of thought,
Will quickly dim with generation –
Bow to future dominance –
Memories of provenance
Resigned to curious few.
When death comes
I’ll need not grace
Below; no grieving face
Will call my resurrection,
Not when I’m at ground –
Death and I so bound.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2011
D eath Crawl
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death death death death death death death death death death death
death death death death death death death death death death death
death death death death death death death death death death death
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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'Tis better to bear the ills we have than fly to others that we know not of.
quote by William Shakespeare
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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