A Walk with Shakespeare
Place one foot in front of the other.
Then repeat one, two, three, four,
and so on. Look up at the balcony
and hope for a miracle smiling at them.
Two looking down Adam and Eve
I will die when I see you are dead.
My head goes too and become two.
I can only be Shakespeare’s wife.
We both accept the dreaded strife.
We win and he is killed, by his best friend.
We live to punish others in a world of chaos.
I am sick and tired of being sick and tired
Being a Bard is very hard.
It was bad spending all my time in bed,
with my head in a whirl of turmoil and chaos.
You, in your place and space,
lived time with smile on your face.
Meanwhile I suffer sick with a tick
next to my head laying in my bed.
With a fake smile in my face
As you are in your space.
Truly a messed-up case
killed our love affair because none said yes.
True, it could have been much better.
The lady judge with a smirk on her face
when she said Stop, it is done.
We left.
No one seemed care or dared to say nay.
Not my secretary Fay nor her husband,
the director, messed up the entire affair.
Only because I no longer care.
The world is not fair,
neither air nor the earth,
would be. It is not mine
for I lost key to office and home.
The tome of biography is lost.
For the cost nobody cares.
All the wares I will pay,
for I dare not say no!
Writing exercise
I am supposed to think of something, that
must contain words miracle or experiment.
Don always asks for the impossible,
sits back with a big mirthful smile
making us scratch our poor, dreamy, brains
expecting a continuous flow of beautiful poetry
like from a mountain brook, stream or river,
into many ideas, as vast as the seas and oceans.
Finally, I can only write as fast and short
As whatever pops into my mind which
could eventually become a real poem.
All the time I am thinking time keeps flying
like a soaring bird or airplane and I am
scrambling as fast as I can to compose
something coherent to read.
Oops I am out of time.
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