Winners announced here!
Write a short poem that begins with one line from any Shakespeare play or poem. The poem should be two to four lines in length. Post it in the comments section below under your full name and general area of residence (“Bob Smith, Denver, Colorado”). Two entries allowed per poet.
When: Now until June 24, 2019 midnight EST. Winners Announced July 1, 2019.
Who: Anyone in the world, any age or background, may participate. From within the Society, anyone, including Advisory Board Members, not involved in judging the contest may participate. (If you are outside the United States, you will have to have a PayPal account or a bank that accepts U.S. checks to receive the prize money if you win.)
Prize: $100. You will also win this William Shakespeare pen donated by Joe Tessitore of New York City.
Judge: Advisory Board Members and selected poets.
Entry Fee: None
Examples: Our first example and the idea for this contest comes from Mr. Tessitore, who came up with this contest. Thank you, Joe!
In the Toilet
Brevity is the soul of wit,
yet on my brains I choose to sit,
long-winded, (here a pun, methinks!).
Small wonder, then, such humor stinks!
He smote the sledded Polacks on the ice.
Because the sledded Polacks were not nice.
He cut off their heads.
And they fell of their sleds.
“Should have quite while ahead”’s my advice.
In purity of manhood stand upright
to defend flag, country, and friends.
In pride of motherhood give love and light
to our children on whom the future depends.
We are such stuff as dreams are made on, rounded with a little sleep,
and yet every day I have a schedule and a job to keep!
When I consider everything that grows
Jack’s stalk apposes Pinocchio’s nose.
“Now, gods stand up for bastards!”/
Make hearts -weak and shattered-
Strong and mended. Let us rise/
Above our curs’ed lives… /
Dust off the shadow of the night,/
And bathe us in the purest light!
The chaste palate of love, O’ Cupid, know
Thee not…in breathless moans, true joy is gone!
O’ angel of love, tune thy sweet cello…
If music be the feed of love, play on!
“Our little life is rounded with a sleep,”
Framed by enigmas fathomlessly deep,
Like, “Why do socks from washers disappear?”
Or, “Why would folks vote Democrat next year?”
While Hindus ponder how atman is Brahma,
I ask how people chose that man Obama!
Once more unto the breach.
Of mice and men who boast and preach,
and promise lies beyond their reach.
A foul against free speech!
Go thou, and fill another room in hell,
reserved for politicians there to dwell.
Those who’s nature, like sick pigs, spew their swill.
And spread their lies to news-room spies, to spill.
2B or not 2B, that is the question
The driver faced upon his wife´s suggestion
That in the mall´s garage, he´d lost his way,
and needed to ascend to level “A.”
Quality, Martin.
That’d get my vote just for sheer innovation and imagination.
Monty Phillips . . France.
Not age, but sorrow, over me hath power.
What sorrow? That this new age seems to’ve decreed
That Verse be ‘free’; and will henceforth endower
Future ages with notions that Verse be ‘freed’.
1st line from: ‘A Lover’s Complaint.
He that knows better how to tame a shrew,
May have his hashtag settled by MeToo.
David Watt, Canberra, Australia
Bewitching Bread
“The wheel is come full circle: I am here.”
Said Hansel, lacking any trace of fear.
“The bread was just too good to waste for crumbs;
We’ll enter the first candy house which comes.”
Keltie-Kewan Young, Auckland, New Zealand
“In the sea of green”
In the sea of green a Little tree sprouts
Breath of air flowing, surviving and flourishing
The course of true love never did run smooth
A quiet snaps in the sea of green.
“The symphony”
The harsh sun above can only speckle through the wall of leaves
For One touch of nature makes the whole world kin
While Trees sway through notes of wilted leaves fall like music
A symphony we may never halt.
Keltie-Kewan Young, Auckland, New Zealand
“In the sea of green”
In the sea of green a Little tree sprouts
Breath of air flowing, surviving yet perishing
For “The course of true love never did run smooth”
A quiet snaps in the sea of green.
“The symphony”
The harsh sun above can only speckle through the wall of leaves
Yet only “One touch of nature makes the whole world kin”
While Trees sway through notes of wilted leaves fall like music
A symphony we may never halt.
Keltie-Kewan Young, Auckland, New Zealand
“In the sea of green”
In the sea of green a Small tree sprouts
A Breath of air flowing, surviving yet perishing
For “The course of true love never did run smooth”
A quiet branch snaps in the sea of green.
“The symphony”
The harsh sun above can only speckle through the wall of leaves
Yet only “One touch of nature makes the whole world kin”
While Trees sway through notes of wilted leaves fall like music
A symphony we may never halt.
Burnaby, BC, Canada
“A Trove, by any Other Name”
My bounty is as boundless as the sea,
The world’s treasure thou art, in time, for me
To find, through seven tides, through gale and breeze —
My love, an ‘X’ shalt I mark down for thee.
She is spherical like a globe
And empirical and bold
Shall truth be told
She is gold
Sweet economy in its retort to Dromio’s
anti-Irish (inter alia) sentiment.
By Avery Miller, USA
Who wakes me from my flowery bed
With funny face and downy head?
No changeling of a fairy curse,
But my dear baby come to nurse.
Christina Lang, Temecula, California
For My Love
Love is a spirit all compact of fire.
Tell me, my love, what is thy desire?
For mine is to give all that you ask,
No request too grand or too great a task.
to be or not to be?, that is the question…
i fall into disgrace not knowing my destiny or fate
will the arrow pierce my open heart or will i soar above
this charred and chastened plight
tis better not to think too deep and wait upon god’s grace I reap
Rob Crisell, Temecula, CA
Past All Surgery
Those are pearls that were his eyes;
His knees, of pure titanium;
Of steel do his hips comprise;
But clay fills up his cranium.
To the Invisible Spirit of Wine
But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks?
It is the vengeful morn which flings bright bolts,
Enpiercing bloodshot eyes. My head – it aches!
Once more the devil wine ‘gainst me revolts.
Honorificabilitudinitatibus
Evaporates with the combustion of cannabis.
Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Thy breath more sweet than the summer’s breeze is,
The flow’rs, of summer to lilac blooms sway
Whilst all the world’s lips wish to thy rose kiss.
Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore,
So too dost my blood like an ocean surge,
My heart,–(happy tide), twice daily doth soar
Sweet thought when eyes thirsty on beauty splurge.
Urinal
This wins him, liver and all.
Takes him to the bathroom stall.
His pants unzipped, his colors fly.
Being drunk is better than dry.