Longing for Shakespeare!
(Today is anniversary of the man who make us love, fine aspects of english language!)
Poetic world
Looks forlorn
May another
Shakespeare be born
Alas, Prose and poetry
Exude curses!
We read
Drab verses!
Soap operas
Have replaced plays!
Eclipsed sun shines
And fools make hay!
No husband
Can tame his shrew!
Merchants of Venice
Can hardly argue!
The passionate pilgrim
Always thinks
-That Brutus, Macbeth and shylocks
Are new age kings
With dubious Romeos
and equally corrupt Juliet’s,
Its a measure for measure
In our new age 'tempest'
Yes, its much ado about nothing
Because life is a midsummer night’s dream
As tragic as Julius Caesar
May be it is the comedy of errors!
Will his birth a love’s labour lost
Or a literary gift!
All’s well that ends well!
As you like it!
poem by Ashish Dimri
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Happy Birthday to the Bard
Happy Birthday Mr Shakespeare
all power to your quill and ink
your works are still as powerful today
as when you were alive and in the Pink.
You gave us the lovers Romeo and Juliet
Hamlet, Macbeth, The Taming of the Shrew,
characters like Lysander, Claudius,
King Lear, and Henry the fifth part Two.
You wrote about murder and death,
treachery, war, and hideous lives,
but you also liked to make us laugh
with tales about all those merry wives.
You even had your own language and words
which is still giving your fans lots of pleasure
your plays are known all around the World
people just love The Tempest and Measure for Measure.
So happy Birthday to you William Shakespeare
even though I've found your work heavy and hard
but there's no doubt you were a literary genius
and that's why they call you our number one Bard.
poem by Kevin Halls
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The winning move.
Life is not a Tempest
Nor a Mid Summer Night's Dream.
It is not A Winter's Tale
Nor a drama to play As You Like It.
All's Well that Ends Well,
Life is a Comedy of Errors.
We have Great Expectations
We do dream of Paradise Regained.
We move our pieces Measure for Measure.
Alas! In the process Love's Labour's Lost.
We eat the Grapes of Wrath
And life seems to be War and Peace.
Sitting Under the Greenwood Tree
It is all An Enchanted Kiss
It is all A Tempered Wind,
And we forget The Elegy Written in a country church-yard.
Life is an Old Curiosity Shop,
Our past is our shadow.
Again, it is the same old story-
The Old man and the Sea,
The Higher Pragmatism,
The Lonesome Road,
And who finally wins? -
Oliver Twists or the Merchant of the Venice?
***************************************** *****************
Shakespeare -Tempest, Mid-summer Night’s dream, A winter’s Tale, As you like it, All’s well that ends well, Comedy of errors, Measure for measure, Love’s labour’s lost, Merchant of Venice-
Dickens- Great Expectations, Oliver Twist, Old curiosity shop.
Milton- Paradise Regained.
Tolstoy- War and Peace.
Steinbeck- The grapes of wrath.
Hardy- Under the greenwood tree.
Thomas Gray – Elegy written in a country church-yard.
O Henry- An enchanted kiss, A tempered wind, The higher pragmatism, The lonesome road.
Hemingway- The old man and the sea.
poem by Ravi Panamanna
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Comedy of Errors
COMEDY OF ERRORS
Shrew tamed, All's Well, though here is Much Ado!
Antony and Cleopatra met
No Rape, no Tragedy, since each stayed true,
Grave born, like Romeo and Juliet.
Thus Richard, John and Harry had preferred
One History where each could heed thy call!
Measured each Tempest's threat is, for unheard
All envy's Comic Error is withal!
My love as Pilgrim Passionate here's signed,
As Venus to Adonis here allied,
Urge Lover's Complaint in neatest verse aligned, -
Dove Turtle are to Phoenix true supplied.
Echoed are Plays with Sonnets' sequent frame,
Continued may sustain Shakespearian flame.
12 November 1990 revised 22 September 2008 as Sonnet CLXXIV Maude Care Is Our Dream Shakespeare's Plays Parodies
robi03_0356_robi03_0000 PAS_MXX
… original version Sandrine Sonnet Cycle
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Poetic Embracement
Poetry - the mother of all emotion
Some call it mere ‘words in motion’
When I write, I love thee- Oh Poetry!
Thy branches deeper than the banyan tree
That’s why you are stronger than prose
Oh! Poetry! !
And as a poet I have all the freedom
And all the world’s verses in my kingdom
I can be fair or may be a little foul
I can see through the night like an owl
You can make night as day, your way
Oh! Poetry! Have your sway…
You have words stringed like beads
And a finger that pointedly needs
An applaud, a bow, a salutation
Sometimes a silent infatuation
You are the need of a man-to be free
That’s why you are –Poetry! !
If some one loves Thee, is it also me?
That sounds selfish but true you see!
For when I embraced you, Oh! Poetry -
An ‘embracement’ was ‘love’ I thought
But ‘embarrassment’ was what I got!
For she admired me, just for Thee! !
Oh! Poetry! !
So Wright is not wrong to send hugs to me
Or Petal isn’t having a fling with the sepals like me
A Rose no longer pokes on a prose so long
For today, just for you - ‘Poetry’ is on a song..
Let me be chainless today, let me be free
You are, what You are! My Poetry! !
poem by Jyo Jottypoet Love
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Antony: Ambition should be made of sterner stuff.
Yet Brutus says he was ambitious,
And Brutus is an honorable man.
line from The Tragedy of Julius Caesar, Act III, Scene 2, script by William Shakespeare (1599)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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How Do You Measure Up?
If you measure yourself by ambition,
There will always be someone more ambitious than you.
If you measure yourself by money,
There is always someone wealthier than you.
If you measure yourself by power,
There is always someone more powerful than you.
If you measure yourself with material things,
There is always someone with more stuff than you.
If you measure yourself by where you are in life,
There is always someone farther down the path than you.
If you measure yourself by appearance,
There is always someone that appears than you.
If you measure yourself by God,
Then we are all the same.
We are all wonderfully and beautifully made.
God is love.
And love has no end.
So in God's heart,
You will always measure up!
poem by Ryan Lee Morris
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I sleep Poetry
Last night I wrestled with poetry
As if a lion wrestling with its prey
I sleep poetry
I dream poetry
I walk poetry on thin line ropes
binding together steeply slopes
I make love to poetry like a new catch
On heat waiting to be let loose from its latch
So out of ten if I am bad, take a pen
And give me a score of five or a four
I constantly make love to poetry
With dramatic grammatical metaphors
The root of my poetic hunger
Is I starve myself a bit longer
In sleep I twiddle my poetic lines
Sharpen them to be as fine as a riddle
I sleep poetry
I drink poetry
Not just to quench my thirst
But to differentiate amongst
Good, Better and Best
There shall come the day
I have to say
When I will definitely call it a truce
When I have run out of poetic juice
2006 - Sylvia Chidi
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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English dramatic literature is, of course, dominated by Shakespeare; and it is almost inevitable that an English reader should measure the value of other poetic drama by the standards which Shakespeare has already implanted in his mind.
quote by Lytton Strachey
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Juliet: Give me my Romeo. And when I shall die,
Take him and cut him out in little stars,
And he will make the face of heaven so fine
That all the world will be in love with night
And pay no worship to the garish sun.
line from Romeo and Juliet, Act III, Scene 2 by William Shakespeare (1597)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Et tuo...Brutus
et tuo Brutus, my life has been with you
i always stand for you, when ever your in the dark
the dried tears that fall in your cheek, i do remember
that you need me though you did not ask for it. I know
that i've been too honest of what is deep inside of me. thats
because. you are with me every time i am awake,
many time in the past, the joy that we use to do, rekindle in my
soul, a moment where you're one with me. yes! its true that those
are just a passing sense in our eyes. but remember that we always
cease the wind though those thought are just a simple dream of pain the past to mesmerize
loving you is what my heart live, a splendor of the essence of who you are to me. i do love you, even in a time you became Brutus in the solitude of needs that my heart whisper. i too have lapses to take, yet it became the stimulus to make changes in life to take this simple Caesar to stand amidst this chaotic world. let me die in your bosom heart, for you i lay down my life to live... i love you Brutus in my heart.
i love you, a love that no other man i ever shared. today in my repose, would only meant to know you that beyond this moment, is a time to remember that you live in me forever....Brutus
...
poem by Antonio Liao
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Much Ado About Nothing
If all these great writers
were still alive in these days
I believe they'd be Soccer fans
and write about it in books and plays.
Shakespeare predicts a Winter of Discontent
after watching Coventry City play
performances that are Much Ado About Nothing
and a Comedy of Errors home and away.
Dickens writes about fans Great Expectations
for their team wearing Sky Blue
but alas he forsees a season of Hard Times
if they don't start picking up a point or two.
Victor Hugo says fans are feeling Les Miserables
with shoulders drooped like the Hunchback of Notre-Dame
while Orwell says they'd rather watch Big Brother
or stay in and read his book Animal Farm.
But Shakespeare tells us fans not to fret
he's not really writing off our football team
in fact he predicts a top six finish
because he saw it in a Midsummer Nights Dream!
poem by Kevin Halls
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My Poetry Has Become Prose
MY POETRY HAS BECOME PROSE
My Poetry has become Prose
I have lost my music
Nothing sings in me;
I have lost my richness of meaning
Nothing in me is not linear, flat and clear.
I have lost my poetry
And have become a writer of Prose
In pseudo Poetic Form-
There is in me no Line
That says more than itself-
I am Prose now not Poetry
And yet still secretly hoping
My inner irony will
In contradicting me
Save me.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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I'm William Shakespeare
I’m born in April,1564 in Stratford-upon-Avon
I’m 100 miles northwest of London
I’m According to the records of Stratford's Holy Trinity Church
I’m baptized on April 26
I’m traditional birth date April 23rd, St. George's day
I’m married Anne Hathaway on November 27,1582
I’m 18; Anne was 26, eight years older than me.
I’m Susanna was born around May 26,1583; twins, Hamnet and Judith, were born around February 2,1585.
I’m likely educated at the grammar school in Stratford from the age of six or seven.
I’m published my first poem, 'Venus and Adonis, ' in 1593. I then wrote 154 poems and 37 plays, and my fame has only increased with time.
I’m recognized as one of the greatest writers of all time, known for works like 'Hamlet, ' 'Much Ado About Nothing, ' 'Romeo and Juliet, ' 'Othello, ' 'The Tempest, ' and many other works.
I’m With the 154 poems and 37 plays of my literary career, my body of works are among the most quoted in literature. I created comedies, histories, tragedies, and poetry. Despite the authorship controversies that have surrounded my works, the name of my continues to be revered by scholars and writers from around the world
I’m William Shakespeare
poem by Valya Madden
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Cassius: The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars,
But in ourselves, that we are underlings.
line from The Tragedy of Julius Caesar, Act I, Scene 2, script by William Shakespeare (1599)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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What we know is that Shakespeare wrote perhaps the most remarkable body of passionate love poetry in the English language to a young man.
quote by Stephen Greenblatt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Brutus: There is a tide in the affairs of men,
Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune;
Omitted, all the voyage of their life
Is bound in shallows and in miseries.
line from The Tragedy of Julius Caesar, Act IV, Scene 3, script by William Shakespeare (1599)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Love in its Purity
Love is a language of the heart-
It is prose and poetry
It is in film or comedy
And yet nothing can fathom
its own depth, height or breadth.
Love is a dream in every heart,
an object of conquest and war
It mirrors greed, pride and honor
And yet love's own purity remains
above intrigues and heroic motives.
Love is a gift from above -
an agape love from the heart of God
We humans can abuse it,
ignore it, trample on it, burn it
but love surfaces out so purely
in its inmost beauty to protect,
affirm, preserve and uphold life.
poem by Elizabeth Padillo Olesen
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Two schools of thought.
.
The lady chose to take offence
Although I said she wrote fine prose
She may not know the difference
between poetry and prose
She thought that she wrote poetry
But what she wrote was free form prose.
I offered no apology
It was not my fault that she chose.
Not to learn the basic rules
defining prose and poetry
Two very different writing schools
in which to show your artistry.
The so called experts can’t agree
and coined the term poetic prose.
Though writing cannot possible
be classed as poetry and prose.
If it’s not metered it is prose
no matter how poetical.
But you’re entitled to compose.
Fine prose and call it poetry.
Though I suggest respectfully
you should be proud of writing prose.
As some do most successfully.
But it was poetry I chose
Thursday,11 March 2010
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Brutus: I did send to you
For certain sums of gold, which you denied me,
For I can raise no money by vile means.
line from The Tragedy of Julius Caesar, Act IV, Scene 3, script by William Shakespeare (1599)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Ode to my love, my Wife
Renu, my dear wife
My sweet heart, love of my life
I got you how! Wow! My splendid fate
I can’t believe, this fortune so great
Of your father, you were an ardent fan
But finally of your life, I became your man!
It was worth the wait, whatever I had to strive
To impress you and make you my wife!
Renu, my dear wife
My sweet heart, love of my life
‘Of opposites’ we are pair
Me dark and you very fair
You are organized and meticulous
I am disorganized though spontaneous
My poetic instincts you do admire
But my helping hand in the kitchen, is what you aspire!
Renu, my dear wife
My sweet heart, love of my life
As if I am a kid, me with care you look after
You gave me my sweet daughter
Anagha, our purpose of life, our treasure
Filling our life with joy and laughter
As Success, whatever I have achieved,
To Your Presence in my life, they are ascribed
Renu, my dear wife
My sweet heart, love of my life
I don’t know, whether I could become your Hero
But, without you in my life, I am a big Zero!
In all ups and down of life, you’ve supported me!
Sweet heart, on this wedding anniversary
Instead of dress, gold or diamond jewelry
I gift you, filled with all my love, this poetry!
(Wrote this to gift to my wife! Today is our wedding anniversary!)
21.04.2009