The Bard Poems - Poems about The Bard

The Bard of Avon with a quill in hand, Did weave such magic on the London stage, A tapestry of words at his command, That captivated every rank and age. From tragic kings to lovers light and free, His characters still breathe upon the air, Their human flaws and grandiosity, A mirror held to all who gather there. Though centuries have passed since...

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Here, I pray, is a sonnet he may have written upon his passing on, ironically, his 52nd birthday, April 23rd 1616... The Bard Bequeaths 'Twas two and fifty years of mortal worth, This twenty third of April owned thy fate. Thy soul commence and hence departs this earth In midst of spring as summer's passions wait. Those passions drip from quill...

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After the end of all the loudest times A poet breathed in yet another breath Finally prepared to present his rhymes About love and hate, even life and death Prepared to give stories with falls and climbs To tell the tale of Mark, Calvin, and Seth Many more indeed was planned to be told Every story worth more indeed than gold He went...

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I have stared death in the face with its huge gaping jaws most of my life i have evaded those paws My families crazy made up scheme of overdramatizing my diagnosis made my life a paralysing psychosis I freed myself from that drek by compartmentalizing me but it meant I never really could connect how I felt about anything I also really had...

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The Raven and the Bard -Daniel Henry Rodgers The Raven's quill drips shades of blackest night, Its haunting words, a melody of fright. The Bard's natural lines, like "Evangeline's" fair hair, Shed history's warm light to chase away all care . From shadowed chambers where dark ravens shriek, To hearthside tales that bygone glories speak; The Raven and the Bard, in Inky War...

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We need Wordsworth To save our beautiful earth Who found God in Nature And worshipped the creature He grasped humanity as his own For which he was born. We need Tagore In today's moment of horror He taught how to conquer over fear Here and there we can hear The shrill cry of hungry vultures The blood-eater creatures. Tagore showed human love How to weave it like a...

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Come Friends, from all the quarters come From mountain and from sea And harken to the ancient drum That beats at Avebury The wren that sings, the bees that hum The bard beneath the tree Come Fellows, from the east and west In all your finery In cloaks and crowns of oak leaves dressed In friendliness to see The folk most beautiful and blessed Who come...

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Awakening with heart and mind a-spin, methought midst some psychotic malady. "What hellish afterlife am I now in"? Yon passerby said "2023". Eyes fixed on "mobile phones" with no regret, here, plays are viewed at home on a "TV", events viewed from afar by "internet", and almost no one reading poetry. In thund'rous flight, huge metal birds (bizarre!) at heights and speeds not for...

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It was my long-cherished dream, get a chance to be a poet garnering gamut of reputation. So, I imagined I became Shakespeare for once, dissolved the past, rose from suspended animation. I remembered I wrote once, in our lives our time experienced “the winter of our discontent”. I hoped I would feel now the joy of spring sublime, but found the winter...

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Walked through the woods today, I heard the most miraculous melody. So I ventured towards the direction of this beautiful music. As I approached I saw a bard playing a lute as if angels were singing. He was surrounded by all kinds of critters and birds, one even sitting on the head of the lute....

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A tale told by an idiot? Methinks thou dost protest too much. In brevity, the soul of wit, yet I shall be a fool, for there are scarce more things in heaven, earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy and as the night the day, thou canst not then be false to any man, nor die but once. We are such...

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Born within sight of the Northern sea Where sea birds call and dolphins play From his mothers womb into this world Damaged ,destined to travel alone. Shubbed by a father who couldn’t accept Teased by children who thought him strange Into a man he grew studied the stars With a voice strong loud and clear Told the tales of heroes of old Round the...

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In mystery wrapped Forever behind the scenes Did he pen King Lear Othello, Hamlet ~ or was He a Midsummer's Night Dream...

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After enjoying a pleasant walk, I then spent an hour at a park, And I relished the dulcet sounds, of cheery airborne skylarks. The blooms were so lovely, all sultry in the fervid sunshine, And the hummingbirds were in bliss, with their tour of daytime. Ducks upon the cool clear lake, gaily uttered the solitary word, As the thunder retains...

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William Shakespeare, I faithfully taught My students, Shakespeare steadfastly fought...

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