Best Much Ado About Nothing Poems
aim true
don’t shake
spear the beast
measure for measure
this is the taming of the shrew
the tempest as you will
it feels much ado about nothing
as if it is the comedy of errors
now on the twelfth night of the feast of hades
love’s labour lost as you like it
this the winter’s tale
but you are the merchant of venice
here to sell your wares
here to charm
the merry wives of windsor
and touch
with your inbred smile
many others
cymbeline
pericles
the two gentlemen of verona
here for their own laugh
troilus and cressida
all ships in the night
a rose by any other name
but then you waken
and it was but a midsummer night’s dream
or was it
it is nothing more than a play
or is it
in the end is not life a stage
and us merely the players
these
the days
the plays
of comedy
you know from your balcony
all’s well that ends well
as i bid you adieu
my prince
sweet dreams
and dream no more
the days of joy are upon us
so live
eyes wide open
this time is yours
Infinite Dot Universe: A Spoof
This rhyming poem was inspired by Arthur Vaso.
It's about a poetic form, and just so you know...
these lines are being written just as a silly spoof
because some of my poems can be called a goof!
There's a new form called, "Infinite Dot Universe"
No, there really is not. Writing this, I feel perverse
because you see, I'd never tout my own poetry.
That would expose a definite lack of my humility.
The gist is that a person's favorite poet should be
him or herself. A bit like the haughty, Vivien Leigh
who thought, "Everything should be all about me."
If things didn't go her way, she'd say, "Fiddle dee dee!"
I digress and must confess this notion of Infinite Dot.
Perhaps instead of dot, let's rename it what it's not.
I think a narcissist would consider it more of a dote
claiming a masterpiece with each poem he/she wrote.
I have favorite poets, and one among them is not ME!
I wouldn't choose those I'd think special in PS. No siree!
That would be like saying who is worthy and who is not,
like the flawed Universe poetry form called Infinite Dot.
I know the first verses are nonsensical to say the least,
but they serve as a sword to slay an insensitive beast.
It's all "Much Ado About Nothing," I would tell a troll
who thinks he's of some importance. Ha! I took a poll.
As I returned home tired of the day's work,
my son, with a greeting smile, came running to me.
As usual, I kissed him and said, "I love you, my son".
"What is love, Papa?" quite innocently he asked.
Giving him a chocolate, I simply said,
"This is my love for you".
The innocent question stirred my soul
and all my thoughts fell on the 'simple' word 'LOVE',
"What is love? Where is love?"
Love is there, I thought, in our care
that we give to our kids and in our desire
to see them grow before our eyes.
Love is seen in the heart of a mother
who has to part her children from her
and send them to distant lands
to win the race of life.
Love is seen in the worries of a wife
who waits for the safe return of her husband.
Love is there in a true friend
who works as an inspiration,
stands by in all thick and thin
and shares all joys and sorrows.
Love is seen, by a lover, in the beginning
of a smile-love-a composition of
a single soul living in two bodies.
So pleased I felt to imagine
that love is everywhere
and 'all is well with the world'.
Relaxing on my chair, I picked the newspaper
with a desire to know something good of the world.
As I went on reading, my newly-formed assumptions
about love, life, and the world began to shatter.
What I read-
four cases of robbery,
two cases of murder,
three cases of relations breaking,
four cases of eve-teasing,
two cases of rape,
one case of acid throwing,
youth indulged in drug addiction,
many cases of corruption,
some cases of manipulation,
hoarding and black-marketing,
dirty game of politics,
unions going on strikes,
people fighting for religions,
word war among states and nations
and 'much ado about nothing'.
I threw the paper with a heavy heart
and again asked myself, "Where is love?"
The sudden entrance of my son
broke the stream of my thought.
I caught him in my arms and kissed.
"How can flowers be grown on a volcano?" were only my thoughts
and two pearls from my eyes fell on the head of my son.
Then the 'Preacher of Peace' came into my vision
who proclaimed, "Where there is love, there is life".
A canopy of grandfather oak branches and green leaves
sways between your brilliant Sun and I,
It’s tattered, blanket of shade moving on your grass,
so inviting .. I just can’t pass it by.
I’m busy with much ado about nothing really,
Can we just talk here for a while?
Let me lay here in your creation and rest,
in the midst of this worldly trial.
Help me to be still and listen for just a bit
to maybe hear you in your gentle breeze,
while I lie on your ancient earth,
in your green grass, neath your leafy trees…
What lovely, peaceful expressions; so near.
Thank you my Maker, for bringing me here...
Written for a couple who love Shakespeare and are getting married Sat. 02
Oct. 2010
This isn't a tragedy as in 'Macbeth',
'Hamlet' or 'King Lear':
Nor is it a 'Comedy of Errors'
to bring a heartfelt tear.
It isn't the giving of a pound of flesh,
as some might suspect.
Nay, it is 'As You Like It',
yeah, 'Romeo and Juliet!'
What can one say to this happy couple
as down the aisle they stride?
'The Taming of the Shrew' must come first
or oh, its woe betides!
'A Lover's Complaint' will surely follow
but its 'Much Ado About Nothing!'
'The Tempest' has lost and 'Measure for Measure'
this wedding is now forthcoming.
'All's Well That Ends Well'.
Don John attempted to flee the country.
Soon, he was apprehended
and will pay for his crime.
based on the play "Much Ado About Nothing" by William Shakespeare
Everyday, I wake up listening a voice,
'Today isn't the world of yesterday
Don't ask why.You aren't a solution.
Sorry, you are nobody choice.
Don't worry, girl.Dream again!
Everyday's world is made of words.
Much ado about nothing.
Everyday's human is made of dreams,
Dream again, dream about nothing.
Waiting for the hero of today,
living the dream of yesterday.
Your resign from world affects nobody.'
Glad to see Hero alive
Claudio's love rekindled
Happy beyond description
What a sweet ending!
based on the play "Much Ado About Nothing" by William Shakespeare
the great bard and Elizabethan play wright
begetting complete dramaturgy
explaining fate hollowly airtight
succor starved, riddled smitten tattered
sir real body politik blight
under whelming enthusiasm
witnessed blank quarto copyright
more tragedy than comedy
visited mine biography to date
expressed as dearth
decayed delight
devoid absent audience
hip...hip...hooray
three chairs to excite
zero non-exhaustive effort
summoning stagecraft
imagining hardened
faced spectators
muted nonexistent ovation,
sans anticlimactic action
superfluous stage fright,
thus retrospective stance taken
billeted envisioned
anachronistic gunfight
signifying emotional crisis,
especially high anxiety
pained height
incorporating mine every birthday
newly aged since
LIX January
thirteenth orbitz insight
oppressive ominous gloomy glum
obscuring highland dale light
whereby substantial sole action
asper arrival of midnight
celestial curtain call enclosing
somber static theatrical night
hoop fully explaining deadening
copious heavy breathing
followed by extended lapses
of utter silence outright
spartan mise en scene
absent agit props
nsync with holographic thespians
staid theatrics displaying plight
uneventful sleepy representation quite
leaving entire cast
(singular char actor his shun
of myself) remaining
soporific steadfastly right
lee measure for measure
much ado about nothing
hermetically sealed, NON GMO
vacuum packed no sight
worth seeing on the twelfth night
starkly barren aimless
padlocked mortal soul asylum
no, not even Romeo and Juliet
love's labor's lost passion
a comedy of errors,
viz unbridled trothplight
mock king lear ring alls well that ends well
where me crushed psyche doth unite
with death vis a vis
as demise of Julius Caesar
et tu Brutus I in vite.
William Shakespeare's plays, as most people know
have been around for four hundred years or so.
The Bard wrote plays that were comedies.
He also composed works that are tragedies.
"Twelfth Night" and "As You Like It" are in the former category.
"Romeo and Juliet" would be considered a tragedy.
Both kinds of plays were written with great quality.
"Hamlet", "Julius Caesar", "Othello" and "King Lear"
are what most folks prefer, it would appear.
This makes me want to ask: "what's going on here?"
Preference for tragedies I cannot see;
especially with all the shootings in the news recently.
Over "Macbeth", I like "Much Ado About Nothing".
In the end, all the characters dance and sing.
Two couples get married, and wedding bells ring.
Oh how wonderful it is to have a happy ending!
Nobody gets killed, and everything turns out nice.
Doesn't anybody here like to throw rice?
Inspired by Shakespeare's works and the 1960 hit song "Let's Think About Living" by the late Bob Luman.
We were both seniors, but he was
some 21 years my senior. Ken was
A most dear friend who passed
away a couple of years ago. I
was spilling my heart out to
him one day as we drove
along in the vehicle.
As I continued to utter my
obvious frustrations over
things I most did not WANT,
Ken popped the most pointed
question when he asked me,
"But what do you WANT?"
It was clear as day what
I did not WANT; but what I
WANTED was foggy and misty.
For a moment, my soul seemed
to have stood still as I pondered
the fact that I did not recall anyone
ever asking me, 'what I really WANTED'.
Either they did not care or they could
not see in me any sense of deep personal
desire. I think that it was the latter.
Ken had not only 'words' that ended in
a question mark. That poignant question
had a quality of tone and a heart of compassion
that registered from him to me like none that
I had experienced.
I have experienced multiple seasons in life.
Call me aimless, shiftless, and lazy if you will,
but I was compelled to look inside my soul
and conclude that I WANTED stillness, ease,
silence, poise, calm, peace, and a cessation
of dedicated activities and involvement.
I WANTED more of what Ken and I were about
on that particular day. The two of us were
part of a men's breakfast that came together
once a week for breakfast. Beyond the
breakfast, our entire affair was a morning
about anything in general and nothing in
particular. It was 'much ado about nothing'.
And in this season of my life, that was what
I really WANTED most.
121922PSCtest, Our Soul’s Wish List Poetry Contest.
Unseeking Seeker
By morn, and under cerulean skies,
he rises from sheets and soft pillows of down;
and gives praise; for the Lord is just and wise,
and great to behold by this earth all round.
By noon, he sets about his songs and rhymes,
labors whose creation gives him pleasure,
and purpose, for an infinite lifetimes;
pressed down, piled, and parceled with good measure.
Then, by eve, lest beastly Insomnia
comes, he now and anon derives his rest
from the night's orgies with the Muses: a
reward that none may oppose, or protest.
A bard chaste for all time, and hence unloved,
finds love with the muses: for they're beloved.
Just picture this:
Our solar system with it’s Sun and its planets
The delicate dance around that the planets do
Now imagine an incredibly massive hair net
That holds all together like celestial super glue
Now try to conceive of the vast distances/space
between even the closest...or the most far
and how they race at breakneck pace
in lockstep about our star
Step back if you would...outside of our realm
You’ll see our part of the cosmos as simply a sphere
A round vesicle vessel with who knows what at the helm
And no need of a helmsman or rudder to steer
What I’ve just described:
Is naught but a rude, crude similacrum
Of the further digression of what I’m trying to say
That I hope will be obvious to some (and hopefully many)
Who take the time to bear with me today
I’m going to ask you:
Now to take note of a fantastic thing
The amazing similarity of things so dissimilar
You might have to let your imagination take wing
And take total leave of everything familiar
Imagine the smallest of the small:
Then imagine it many million times smaller still
It to, is a universe in it’s own right
It to, like ours, has a centre (nucleus) as all universes will
and like ours can even produce light (excited electrons)
Let us take this comparison even further:
with poetic license let’s call this it’s Sun. Ok?
about which negatively charged particles (planets?)
Rotate in precise orbits in a very planetary way
and are held tight in a circle..(remember the hairnet?)
Now let’s throw distances into the mix:
Imagine the distance from the Earth to the Sun
It’s all mostly empty vast space wouldn’t you agree?
Well It’s the same for the tiny atom
That makes up everything. (for now, think you and me)
Now let’s consider unimaginably empty space:
It is the basic component both of universes and atoms
And since everything including us, is composed of things atomic `
and has been since the days of Eve and Adam
I’ll get to my point...and my point is anatomic!
Let’s bring this tiresome diatribe to an end:
By realizing That atoms (meaning you and me)
Are mostly nothing and that’s a bit humbling
we’re naught but egos...noisy...but empty
just souls made of holes in empty space
...atumbling...
Constables Dogberry and Verges have Don John's cohorts that are bad.
The two men in their custody are named Borrachio and Conrad.
They confessed their involvement in the plot to shame Hero.
Don John took advantage of the gullibility of Claudio.
The friar and company spread the rumor that Hero died.
In reality, until she clears her name, Hero will merely hide.
Meanwhile, the culpable Don John has taken flight.
The enraged Benedick has challenged young Claudio to a fight.
Don't worry readers; everything will turn out right.
A happy ending to this play will soon be in sight.
Based on the play "Much Ado About Nothing" by William Shakespeare
“Much Ado About Nothing”
Romeo’s love doesn’t fall through,
As Tybalt piques his fancy too.
And Juliet,
Not in love yet
Chills out on Tinder and Temu.
William, don’t mind the premise pick,
The rhymes have moved on so to speak;
Short and lightweight -
It’s shooting straight,
Not a sonnet, a limerick.
No tragic twists, no tricksy lies,
No fam’ly feuds to dramatize.
It might be viewed
Vulgar and lewd -
But no one kills and no one dies!