This Cosmos knows all must escape the war.
The sky beckons peace for the Bard's journey,
Hoping there will be joy forevermore.
Music, dance, poetry--art is beauty!
Raise a cheer for nature's forest bounty.
Let's gather memories that are gleeful!
The green woodlands breathe with vitality
And gift to us a rocky pocketful!
Awen drifts through every breath of nature,
Kindling the mind with vivid ideas,
Flying forward to chase the bright future.
Bards guard pure hearts as meek overseers.
Every balm that will make us feel better
Spills from the Cosmos' wildest pleasure!
Categories:
the bard, allegory, analogy, beauty, earth,
Form: Sonnet
I wasn't truly attuned to the Bard
Who tried to show cosmic significance.
On the dark moonlit forest's stage, he starred.
His Bardic thoughts defying arrogance.
I met the night Bard while he was singing
In chorus with Oaks of the magic grove.
Sprouting with seedlings was his beginning.
Raised in the forest, his true treasure trove.
This bounty lies protected by wet clouds.
It seems nature knows how to calculate
The number of elements it enshrouds,
Even as they waltz on the lovely lake.
The wind plays the wooden flute merrily,
Pleasing the Stars with chants of forestry.
Categories:
the bard, culture, desire, dream, fantasy,
Form: Sonnet
My kingdom for a horse he said
Yet Richard the Third we've not read
Though the play's assigned
Shakespeare’s such a grind
We'd sooner chill with Mister Ed
Categories:
the bard, appreciation, horse, school,
Form: Limerick
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 like dagger's tears,
The blood of inspiration spake and writ,
Like life itself, upon the stage appears
Until, at last, a poison potion sipped.
Though ne'er a day begets where peace doth dwell
There, hidden in the chaos is reward.
Though, like the Queen of Scots, there was no knell,
Thou tarry not, before the henchman's sword.
Mine heart doth pray that thou hath left behind,
Conception's want that cannot be confined.
Categories:
the bard, farewell,
Form: Sonnet
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 out giving stories from his lips
He told and put people in raptured spell
His normal words seemed to do tricks and flips
He gave stories from his deep inner well
He proclaimed heroics and he bowed dips
He did that until his endless joy fell
His great morale and hope not even spared
For behold not even one person cared
He begged and begged to those listeners dull
Each of those precious tales he tried to give
He tried, tried, to make those people’s lives full
They may have survived but refused to live
So the bard was forced to not save their souls
Each soul silent as under sedative
So, sorry to leave the hopeless, he left
Left unable to share those works so deft
Categories:
the bard, art, poets,
Form: Ottava rima
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 dove
He knitted the thread
Of an extensive net
For catching love and mankind
All was entwined
O, come to be united together
We are like the flower
Let's bloom in the field
Like the green grass filled
With morning dew to make us anew.
Categories:
the bard, allegory, appreciation, blessing, celebration,
Form: Rhyme
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 the faint at heart.
A carriage (with no horse!) they call a "car",
and huge emporiums they call "Wal-Mart".
One thing unchanged from 1594:
a tyrant's greed still thrusts men into war.
Written 13 Jan 2023
Categories:
the bard, society,
Form: Sonnet
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 perpetuate even in the present.
In all walks of life the confusing question in my time then
was the quandary of options “to be or not to be”,
but now this dilemma bothered anyone less than often,
for everybody wanted to be rich and scruple free.
I couldn’t write my Sonnet like that of the Bard of Avon,
for my utterly dismayed muse found he was gone.
____________
January 9, 2023
Contest : Shakespeare In 2023
Sponsored by : Anoucheka Gangabissoon
Categories:
the bard, analogy, imagination, poets, time,
Form: Rhyme
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 stuff as dreams are made on, and
our little life is rounded with a sleep.
To sleep! Perchance to dream a little dream -
and lo! what light through yonder window breaks?
The fault lies not within the stars, but in
ourselves; we know what we are, but know not
what we may be, and yet, what’s in a name?
The course of true love never did run smooth...
If music be the food of love, play on,
for all that glisters is not gold, and you,
dear sir, have loved both wisely, well indeed.
Rest easy, bard, for well thou wore the crown.
----------
Phrases from various works of Shakespeare in honor of the bard's birthday
Categories:
the bard, appreciation,
Form: Iambic Pentameter
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 fire at night
When the shados lengthen
Teleryn the bard rose in respect
Wjth his knowledge and gentleness
He cared for his tribe.
-------------------
Categories:
the bard, appreciation, poetry, tribute, visionary,
Form: Free verse
In mystery wrapped
Forever behind the scenes
Did he pen King Lear
Othello, Hamlet ~ or was
He a Midsummer's Night Dream
Categories:
the bard, mystery, writing,
Form: Tanka
William Shakespeare, I faithfully taught
My students, Shakespeare steadfastly fought
Categories:
the bard, conflict, literature, student, teacher,
Form: Epigram
In this coursing, crimson river
of my blood, you float.
There is no end to this, our eternal
amorousness.
Nay, not even human death can
remove us from Eros's moat.
Nor our touching hands' total
peacefulness.
So let's on, to the minutes as
they, like arrows, swiftly pass.
Your mistress awaits you in cobalt,
lace blue, summer gown!
Upon the kiss of morning dew on
this orb's verdant grass!
Let us do partake of vintage wines,
glorious breads and cheese till
God's sundown.
Let us dream of the children we
will create!
And weep tears of joy and blessed
happiness.
We revel in each second, so
divinely, and magically intimate.
To share with all humanity our
immutable, loves' holiness!
July 13, 2019
Sonnet One
Categories:
the bard, love, romantic love,
Form: Sonnet
The Bard
In a small cottage high upon the windy moors
There lives a bard with authentic romantic rhymes;
A master poet who lives within present times.
Enchanting stanzas written to beguile, confuse.
His poetry sometimes enigmatic, you see,
Can be a challenge with a bit of mystery.
But this bard teaches as he shares intriguing rhymes.
Intelligent lexicon, aberrant in ways,
Have us searching his words with Google, in a daze.
He bathes us in bright colors of the rising Sun,
With majesty he paints a picture of the moon
With such impressive stunning sights it makes us swoon.
He expresses with winsome wit and fantasy...
He spills his ink in rare colors of every hue;
Endeavors to relate both life and death anew.
Isn't that what Great poetry is all about,
To open minds to endless possibilities
And savor as fine wine such sensibilities?
Hooray! I say we celebrate his poetry...
A bard with talents that may lie beyond the rest
Inspires us to make learning a sacred quest!
12-30-18
Contest: As easy as ABB ~N/A~
Sponsor: Nina Parmenter
Categories:
the bard, creation, inspiration, poetry, teacher,
Form: Rhyme
an outpour
in the downpour
birds still sing
when it rains
Categories:
the bard, bird, friend, uplifting,
Form: Epigram
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