I sometimes wonder who was there
the day Shakespeare finished writing King Lear.
Was he at home with his Annie?
Or was he drunk off his fanny
in the Tabard Inn, stroking the dark lady's hair?
Categories:
tabard, 12th grade, allusion,
Form: Rhyme
The west winds of springtime
Brought forth April showers
That rained on the pavements
Of Southwick for hours.
It was standing room only
And full to the brim
As people sought shelter
At the old Tabard Inn.
A man with a top hat
Sat staring in space.
There was illness and sadness
Etched deep in his face.
A man with a fob watch
Was seen swapping gold
For a bottle of whisky
Before facing the cold.
A woman sighed deeply
Then laughed with a guest
While sipping tap water
And winning at chess.
There was no chef so no food
Since that dark violent day
When the innkeeper watched him
Being stretchered away.
So the sailor (being followed)
Missed having his tea,
And drank five pints of real ale
Before leaving for sea.
Categories:
tabard, character, literature, london,
Form: Narrative
Morning At Work
Impaired by his tremors
And a troublesome cough,
He turned fur into felt
Before cooling things off.
He drooled once or twice
And grew cold in his bones,
But he shaped all the felt
Into all of the cones.
Noon
His 'venomous vipers'
Grew restless again
And woke as the toxins
Played games with his brain.
He began to see strange things
And quickly grew scared
When the writing desk swooped
Like a ravenous bird.
Aware that his dark mind
Was now playing tricks,
He quit work forever
At ten shillings past six.
Night
He sat in The Tabard
Where he found time to think.
His skin had turned orange
As he drowned in his drink.
He recalled the sad day
His wife took off her ring
And with her cards on the table
Left to marry a king.
He pined for his daughter
And the party he'd planned
But she followed her mother
To that far-away land.
Later That Night
While carrying a tea tray
Upstairs to his bed
He tripped over his hat
He'd shook off with his head.
He finally came to
Around six the next night
But from that moment on
All his world was not right.
Categories:
tabard, drink, fantasy, imagery, literature,
Form: Narrative
Paper rustle of your lips
is not needed to her really,
You're a knight, but your heart weeps,
You were brave, why are you thrilling?
You would strip your zealous sword,
But there are no foes in moment,
It would sing and say a word
loudly-loudly without torment.
And your ballads have no sense,
You're not worthy for the beauty,
All your deeds don't give a chance,
Take it easy, slave of duty.
Because love does not take out
sword that's frozen in the scabbard,
Hear, how useless pure souls shout,
You are hero in worn tabard.
No one's happy to your flags,
Courage now must be forgotten,
Ballads die, they lie in wrecks,
Paper burns, the flame is gotten.
All will pass, they're angry, rude,
There's no point for her crying,
Drown out tubes, put on your hood,
She won't answer to your trying.
And no matter if heart weeps,
Here are many who're no thrilling,
Paper rustle of your lips
won't confess: I love you, really.
Categories:
tabard, fantasy, hero, longing, love
Form: Lyric
Along ta derry ga de hance
‘til dawn we sit, amid, astance.
And once the full moon rises on’t
Da mid awhorl doth all we want.
But soon ta blacken brot a gri,
wit stil da crackon akabree--
And once t’gin ta ram da moot
Dow noland farce th’ wil ka soot!
A packa shoon curl tabard sheath
And when we drather forka beeth,
Is wan ‘taback the cabbarth shoe
Around about will strike the moon.
The will soon eddy wine dak crown,
To ramble on the turtle drown.
We pounce upon the blackened brot
‘twas crackon gole th’ trei be shot!
Categories:
tabard, appreciation, mystery, nonsense, silly,
Form: Rhyme
Fables are told today
Only on past golden days
Love is what we’ll make today
Loneliness will be ashamed to stay.
Oasis as longs for rain,
Wacky me to get a swain,
Iambus we long to gain
Naiad I shall play again.
Gaiety will be brought back to gain.
Tabard you will be wearing
Hallucinating, spell casting;
Earnestly I’ll be waiting,
Surrounding your hypnotizing.
Ubiquitous glee will eradicate dark.
Never ending exquisiteness,
Rabidity seeing of such love you made.
Abashed cheek will make you a pearl
Yaffle of green love tree will sing a song
Sabbath will announce that holly concord.
Categories:
tabard, love,
Form: Acrostic