Harry Male

Poetry

And to some who are pardoned

Photo by Birmingham Museums Trust on Unsplash

Here wanders Shakespeare’s spirit

Haunting like the ghost of father Hamlet

Dead like his brave and young son Hamlet

Dead like the star-crossed Romeo and Juliet

Dead like the maddened King Macbeth

Dead like Caesar, stabbed by the Senate

Dead like Othello, driven to hate

Kills Desdemona but his crime is passionate

Yet the playwright doesn’t always assassinate

Because nobody dies in As You Like It

Antonio is saved by Portia’s wit

And Hero only fakes until she makes it

A toast to Shakespeare’s departed.

And while you’re here, you might also like poetry about drinking. Here are a few also published in Illumination:

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Poetry

Photo by zengxiao lin on Unsplash

Am I speaking too softly?

Can you hear me,

Can you hear me?

Are my words unintelligible?

From my tongue, they roll,

They roll.

Am I acting too strangely?

Can you see me,

Can you see me?

My hands are shaking wildly,

Can’t control them,

I’m damned.

Am I thinking extremely,

Excitedly,

Or exactly?

Are my thoughts spread, scattered?

Were they heard?

I’m burned.

Am I screaming too loudly?

Should you hush me,

Do you rush me?

Is it better if I whisper?

Oh, my mother,

You there?

Am I stinking so badly?

Will you wash me?

Should you hose me?

But I’m feeling very thirsty,

Oh have mercy,

My dear.

Am I feeling intensely?

I was cedar,

Now I’m paper.

Is it better if I’m stronger?

But I wander,

Under.

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How conflicted we are, humans. We complain that our worlds seem small, suffocating. But at the same time, we take comfort in the thought that we are all connected. The link makes the world feel not as big and overwhelming. We are on an ironic search for freedom and connection. We liberate ourselves from what we think burdens us, to discover something new to feel welcomed. The chase is indefinite. We’ll never be content. What a blessing. What a curse.

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