PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

    Words drop like stones;

Time is now writing with impassive hand

Shakespeare's black play, his twenty-fourth.

What can we do, who knows the bitter taste,

Here, by the sullen river, re-enact

              Those tragic lines of Hamlet, Caesar, Lear?--

or maybe guide, as escort to her tomb

Child Juliet, poor dove, with songs and torches;

or play the Peeping Tom in Macbeth's windows,

trembling no more than a hired murderer.

Only not this one, not this one, not this one--

              This one we do not have the strength to read.