Poems About Shakespeare

POEMS ABOUT SHAKESPEARE by Michael R. Burch Fleet Tweet: Apologies to Shakespeare by Michael R. Burch a tweet by any other name would be as fleet! Fleet Tweet II: Further Apologies to Shakespeare by Michael R. Burch Remember, doggonit, heroic verse crowns the Shakespearean sonnet! So if you intend to write a couplet, please do it on the doublet! Stage Fright by Michael R. Burch To be or not to be? In the end Hamlet opted for naught. Ophelia by Michael R. Burch Ophelia, madness suits you well, as the ocean sounds in an empty shell, as the moon shines brightest in a starless sky, as suns supernova before they die ... Shakespeare's Sonnet 130 Refuted by Michael R. Burch, circa age 18 Seas that sparkle in the sun without its light would have no beauty; but the light within your eyes is theirs alone; it owes no duty. Whose winsome flame, not half so bright, is meant for me, and brings delight. Coral formed beneath the sea, though scarlet-tendriled, cannot warm me; while your lips, not half so red, just touching mine, at once inflame me. Whose scorching flames mild lips arouse fathomless oceans fail to douse. Bright roses’ brief affairs, declared when winter comes, will wither quickly. Your cheeks, though paler when compared with them?—more lasting, never prickly. Whose tender cheeks, so enchantingly warm, far vaster treasures, harbor no thorns. This was my first sonnet, written in my teens. Attention Span Gap by Michael R. Burch What if a poet, Shakespeare, were still living to tweet to us here? He couldn't write sonnets, just couplets, doggonit, and we wouldn't have Hamlet or Lear! Yes, a sonnet may end in a couplet, which we moderns can write in a doublet, in a flash, like a tweet. Does that make it complete? Should a poem be reduced to a stublet? Bring back that Grand Era when men had attention spans long as their pens, or rather the quills of the monsieurs and fils who gave us the Dress, not its hem! I Learned Too Late by Michael R. Burch I learned too late that poetry has rules, although they may be rules for greater fools. In any case, by dodging rules and schools, I avoided useless duels. I learned too late that sentiment is bad— that Blake and Keats and Plath had all been had. In any case, by following my heart, I learned to walk apart. I learned too late that “telling” is a crime. Did Shakespeare know? Is Milton doing time? In any case, by telling, I admit: I think such rules are sh-t. Key: poem, poems, poets, poetry