Avon runs swiftly through Shakespeare's town
Stratford-upon-Avon such delightful place
Walk river bank a place renowned
In my mind's eye the Bard I do embrace.
Sitting beneath Weeping Willow tree
Medieval whisper I hear quite clear
Things lost to time, things we did not foresee
Shakespeare's illusory image to me did appear.
His beard neatly trimmed his ruffle white
Whisper quite definitely in my ear
Message clear it was write, write, write
Extraordinary experience with absence of fear.
Quote: A whisper should not be ignored
beyond the road curve ahead I do not know,
we are still far and distant from winter snow,
autumn has sprayed green leaves some yellow, some red,
as they spiral and fall to their grassy bed.
these foliage tell tales of life and death,
glory of existence and that final breath,
when memories of life were all fresh and green,
now strewn along the road is life that had been!
I stand on a bridge to view the flowing stream,
silent it goes like a sequence in a dream,
bearing on the surface, gatherings from trees,
duty performed for nature, yearly with ease.
beauty all around is tribute to nature,
meadow is still fresh, green is still the pasture,
the demise of leaves is no reason for grief,
future will bring new seasons! time is no thief!
A traveller will stop to admire the view,
years and years from now when I have bid adieu,
that day should not be any day for remorse,
life always changes and flows and finds its course!
written 22/10/2022
after a walk along the Stratford upon Avon canal
6km of my daily habitat.
11syllables each line!
Stratford-upon-Avon Shakespeare's town
Where shades of the past are present each day
in daub and wattle homes there can be found
Medieval moments that are at play.
Tragedies staged with death quite violent
In his writing of revenge and torment
Shakespeare lies buried his quill now silent
He wrote of passion and evil portent.
On cobbled street where Tudor shoe did tread
Walk in the footsteps of the sonneteer
His shadow alive although bard is dead
Empathic souls adjust to yesteryear.
Enduring atmosphere Shakespeare's past
Tangible moment he holds us steadfast.
On April twenty-third was born and died
Within a Stratford-upon-Avon home
A legend of the stage and land aside
The Thames; throughout all London did he roam.
Began an actor in the Globe, the man
Filled hearts with laughter, tears and history,
Left his Suzanna, Hamnet, Judith, Anne
And traveled far to write for royalty.
With thirty-seven mysteries entwined
In your own tragedy and love affair,
For your name and sake I hope they find
Your skull real soon; It could be anywhere!
Though some say understanding you is hard…
…A very happy birthday to The Bard!
(Written 2016)
William
sensitive, gentle, poetic, romantic
son, husband, father, grandfather
lover of the theatre, the Dark Lady, the Fair Youth
who feels empathy, jealousy, love
who fears the plague, empty playhouses, lovers' betrayal
who'd like to see his popularity, his undisturbed grave, true author recognition*
resident of London and Stratford-upon-Avon, Warwickshire
Shakespeare
* some people believe that Shakespeare didn't write Shakespeare...LOL
written 29th January, for Constance's Writing Challenge 2 Bio Form contest
There are many websites to help you
When a theatre break is what you require
You can go to London or Stratford
Book a three star hotel or much higher
So without all the dots and the dashes
the cos the coms and the nets
Here are the names you’ll be wanting
when you want to book a show next.
The most popular are Theatre Breaks in London
Folks book them in their legions
But Breaks in Stratford-Upon-Avon
Are popular in the regions
If a theme is more to your liking
Then it’s Musical Breaks you seek
But opt for Theatre Weekends
If you don’t have time midweek.
And if you have a hankering for royalty
A yen for Jubilant Celebrations
A Royal Break will be just the ticket
In a range of regal locations.
To the man who cheered my childhood idleness
When want of money seized the Mario Bros from me.
To the man who planted in me the seed of madness
To string words like multi-coloured beads to see
Some hidden truth, to say some itchy sadness,
To display the velvet waves of a grassy plane in some wilderness.
I remember “Et tu Brute” impressed on that page
Of beautiful poetry you wove into a thickening web.
Enthralled by this beauty, the Muse had me in a cage
And soon out of my own tottering pen, I would be a deb.
The Sonnets, Othello, Twelfth Night, Hamlet: my pleasant voyage
Into the Land of Words till sunlight to the horizon would ebb.
To the Bard of Stratford-upon-Avon on your birthday
To the speculation on the dictionary whence
You spun your magic and awed many in and beyond your day,
To the father of the deepest yet saddest romance:
The bitter tale of hatred to which Romeo and Juliet fell prey:
We miss your plume pouring life onto our every sense.
(c) Nyonglema
Doth if not thrill thee, Poet,
Dead and dust though thy art,
To feel how I press thy singing
Close to my heart?
By Richard Le Gallienne
(The Passionate Reader To His Poet)
A teenaged husband and father of three,
born at Stratford upon Avon.
He left home for London
and found fame and fortune
as an actor, playwright, and poet;
became a favourite of royalty.
He retired and returned home
to the second largest house in town.
Died of a mystery disease;
was buried inside the church.
Plays posthumously published:
iconic figure immortalised.
Though some say Shakespeare didn't write Shakespeare...
Jack Horne for Constance's Passionate Reader contest
For Adeleke's Top Ten
Snow
James Bond
Will Shakespeare
Woman in Black*
Maria Callas
Roberto Alagna
Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales
Agnetha Faltskog from Abba
Shakespeare’s house, Stratford-upon-Avon
Drinks: Bitter, stout, Guinness, Benedictine
* Susan Hill's ghost story
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