Best Ophelia Poems

O luckless maid! such beauteous 
blush with modest blandishments
did'st flash to woo a Prince
o'erthrown, in madness' grasp!

Still-born, ne'er meant to flourish,
true love was the hapless prey,
Polonius lay cold, extinguish'd
by the Dane's misguided sway.

It drove thee mindless, to a frenzy,
death thy only destination,
borne by rippling river's...

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The quintessential of nyctophilia, wrapped in bridal attire, slowly and slowly as in somnambulism there goes the heroine of timeless tragedy to supersede her lovers feigned insanity.

Her beloved father is no more, being killed by her suitor's intrigued tyranny;
ignored to be drowned, to burn in...

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From my teenage daze

She was getting down to a guitar groove
She could rock and roll ( boy could she)!!
When her mom and dad raised her
'Bet they broke the mold

She was wearing cool black leather jeans
Just like a second skin
"Said Hi..My names Ophelia!
Wanna take a sawdust...

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I sing the songs of childhood
A forgotten time...
Before illusive fantasies of womanhood
Before hearing of the murder of my dreams
By the hand of my lover
Who demands of me
Things I cannot give
Forcing issues of loyalty
Between people I love
And a woman’s heart rends
Behind the curtain
Hidden concern bleeds to...

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I feel solidified
Captured in blue-green horizon
They are eternal and faceless
My lungs; brown paper bags deflating
My milk structures are curdling
There are tiny mouths taking microscopic airs
Aerated and heavy as oxygen in a stone sphere
Gaumless and watched by black-ochre shadows circling
Compacted as mud underfoot and crushed
By reaching...

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In blue moonlight where Lady Ophelia drifts
the whispered streams in winter's beauty, her eyes
reflecting starlight vaguely float and fade
quietly to grey.

As the breeze kisses her soft white breasts, she sighs
 a zephyr to carry her to sleeping worlds
where soporific trees roam the joyful earth
and a...

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Ophelia had cancerous breasts
According to all of the tests
But old Doctor Kaiser
Was simply a miser
Who plundered the most treasured chests...

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O luckless maid! such beauteous 
blush with modest blandishments 
did'st flash to woo a Prince 
o'erthrown, in madness' grasp! 

Still-born, ne'er meant to flourish, 
true love was the hapless prey, 
Polonius lay cold, extinguish'd 
in the Dane's misguided sway. 

It drove thee mindless, to a...

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umbrella graveyard
broken spines, dead in the street
hurricane hits hard

We are currently in the grips of the aftermath of hurricane Ophelia - there has been some damage on our little Island but so far everyone is safe although there have been several fatalities in Ireland where...

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"No more romance" she said
A seductive brunette trying to hide her age
And get what she wants
Come as a guest
Leave as a paramour

It's not my fault
No, no, no way. Look at her
She have already ransomed her fault
Notorious and lonely at the same time

I believe in godesses,...

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She was taken away from me,
At such a young age,
We were just newlyweds,
When she fell deathly ill,
To an unknown sickness.

The doctors could do nothing,
But hope that the sickness would pass,
Each day; she grew frailer and sicker,
Till the sickness consumed her,
And she no longer could hold...

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O luckless maid! such beauteous 
blush with modest blandishments
did'st flash to woo a Prince
o'erthrown, in madness' grasp!

Still-born, ne'er meant to flourish,
true love was the hapless prey,
Polonius lay cold, extinguish'd
in the Dane's misguided sway.

It drove thee mindless, to a frenzy,
death thy only destination,
borne by rippling river's...

Continue reading...

ACT 1, SCENE 1
Opening night of a new West End Production called
‘Shakespeare: Ode to a Character’
Curtain rises
Enter BENEDICK (in full costume as Ophelia from Shakespeare’s ‘Hamlet’)


BENEDICK:
‘An Ode to Ophelia’

I have a heart,
Which is bound in its own chains,
Arteries crystallised in bleak light.

I want to love,
I...

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My Lord, you dance between two Queens, confused
a mourning martyr and a morning dove
both cleaved of hope, of thought, of voice,
or so the multiples of men would think.
But I'm no less the babe, no more the witch
than what imaginings might trace your mind
I've overflown the...

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Not grasping flowers as she descends to oblivion,
merely holding paraphernalia of abuse.
Her sweet voice silenced by death's heavy kiss,
as she sinks in her olive oil waters.

bathing, in preservation of beauty,
the black Ophelia falls prey to the Bard's soft words,
the waters "pulled the poor wretch down...

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