Short Shakespearean Poems
Short Shakespearean Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Shakespearean by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Shakespearean by length and keyword.
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Macbethian witches, their curses, their physicks
bubble, bubble
whatever they are they're a great deal of trouble.
Shakespearean Slight
Doth have five children father of three, the other two belong to me.
By
Josehf Lloyd Murchison
Dusty pages unfurling in the beam of sunlight
Sniffing every character just as the writer's soul
Ringing in the real fresh memory of Bookrack
Riped leaves hovering in Shakespearean style
Saddened to see the last page torn apart
The way gadgets have torn me from books apart...
My dear God, I feel sad today.
I welcomed their Shakespearean tongue,
And yet they cursed me for my sway,
Though I like sweet ylang-ylang.
Oh Lord, you are my daily food!
I am what I eat, this you know.
Help these hands o’ mine to be good
To them; be my strength! Your son, O.
Jean-Luc Picard cant replace James T. Kirk
with his Earl Grey tea and sinister smirk,
he lacks Jim's youthful physique,
that made women's knees go weak,
and acts more like a Shakespearean jerk.
(Limerick)
04/02/2022
On A Lim Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Joseph May
"Star Trek"
Today I shall write a unique sonnet,
Only, I know not what to write about.
Shall I place my affections upon it?
An Ozymandias-styled denounce?
And the rhyme, Petrarchan, no… Oh, I know,
I think I prefer Shakespearean more.
Ah, but what is this? I can go alone?
Like ABAA, devising my own?
Even weirder, I’ll end it here–
With eight syllables, too–then disappear.
Tearing irony,
howling sarcasm,
coming out of dribbling mouths,
blood-staining hyenas,
exhausted vampires.
To self-learn the art of hatred,
Just from mask-faces without dynamism,
This is the famous Shakespearean dilemma,
That comes, resuscitates like an atavism.
Tossing in the bed of hypocrisy,
amongst drinks that suffocate in frenzy,
this is the post-modern heroism,
simple, surviving of the humanity.
You have the Florentine beauty of the soul,
with pale fingers as if made of snow,
you play nocturne farewell melody
on my ribs as if they were a harp.
and your renaissance soul
will conquer this simple one of mine,
and it will not remain of me
nothing but an outline in your past
that will complete your Shakespearean tragedy.
A picturesque depiction
of self-destruction,
after capitulating to beauty.
Welcome to 'Just Say No'
As you all know
The object of the game
Is to avoid everlasting shame
No juicy secrets may be revealed
That's the easy part of the deal
No matter what transpires
You must not light the audience's fire
With salacious tidbits or lascivious lies
That's the only way you win first prize
A weekend without smartphone, social media or TV
Indulge yourself ~ in a Shakespearean reading spree
To Be Or Not To Be, mine...
I have a box of madness....
Especially for you!!!!
A chocolate flavored journey....
That's dipped and covered with crazy glue...
Everyone knows love comes in many forms.
"MY LOVE!"
Can you really define the true meaning of love....
Without opening this one box...
I'll give it to you in a Shakespearean way...
To Be, Or Not To Be????
My Valentine This year...
To: Nathan Dilts
From: Poet Destroyer
Green dragon with your gnarly ways
Eating asparagus all your days
Biting harsh straws within your hays
Writing your Shakespearean plays
Ice cold snow cone has turned you blue.
Wrens in your ears cheering you and me too
Sweet of them not to make us shoo
Dragon your loyalty to me is true.
Green dragon of the ice and snow,
With your extra-terrestrial happy glow,
Poet of my heart, as you know
Do take to the skies. Now please safe go.
Plucked from Shakespeare
and plopped in Central Park,
Sturnus vulgaris, the mimic,
conquered New York.
It made it there,
You know it made it everywhere;
The continental stage stolen.
And here on my fence amid this tragedy
To be blessed with a modicum of bliss;
The sparkling spring songster
with his treasured chest pumping
my missing birds song list.
22.04.18
Craig Cornish's
Spring - Poetry Contest
3rd Place
Eyes upon another for I did not know your name
Though what purest love rest still within me
Dorminant, triggered in the looks of thy eye
Sparks like matter, irrodescent in thy sight
The magic mustered to my very plight
For I did not know your name
Yet ye inthrawled me
Took me up to heavens starling sights
Left me alone bedridden In the night
No I did not know your name
Though the red threads aligned us
Entangled with you before I could explain our truth
Hood loves me so much
and wow me for my midas touch.
Each ink I spare is deeply appreciated
and each triumph I make-greatly celebrated.
What am I? I'm God's wonderful masterpiece
a Shakespearean mind that flows with ease.
Each time my thoughtful mind travels,
I'd have rhymes to unravel;
Eyinju Olodumare, Humble servant of HE
whose Greatness is so vast for all eyes to see.
Thanks 'Hood for wowing me to this height,
as heavy as poetry seems, I did lift its weight!
Ascend to Shakespearean summer sky.
I loved Shakespeare as a girl
When a sonnet was like a melody
And I was not admitting
Impediments to true minds.
Our mark is fixed with the
Demise of one as the only force
Powerful enough to cast our
Corporal union null.
And separation will be Doom each for the other.
If I remain, the grief will raze me and my
Only consolation in not having to hurt you.
If it is I who die, I’ll be with the bluebirds.
©Kathryn McL. Collins
April 13, 2004
WILL S Sonnet 71
A typical Shakespearean (quatorze 12+2) sonnet form- with no title (preferring the verse to speak for itself:traditional first word capitalisation: in three abab quatrains for the body (meat of its content) :with the couplet (goto it)summary.In this case in an negative (selfish?) epitaph like ' voice from the grave ' advice to his once loved one to 'let your love even with my life decay' a half empty ' sentiment perhaps to a lost love rather than 'widowed' one.
Fabled Streets into spaces of loneliness,
field hospital in central park
and the wailing of ambulances, their serpentine allure
claiming its wild certitude amid
full tides of sacrifice in
ERs as trenches beaming with resistance and pride safe from
evil's dissidence, garments with no
self-glory intent, saving lives, saving grace.
Paradox is city's nick-name, and the virus
the killer of its narcissism.
New York lives like a Shakespearean tragedy
bending its ear to earth's resonnance.