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!
Healing Cuts
Not a jot more, my lord.
Cut’s deep as a sword.
Love’s scalpel has begun
As hearts converge into one.
Taylor Crosby, Crawfordsville, IN
“Keep It Inside”
Look like the innocent flower
Bottle up your fiery rage
Unless you wish all to cower
As you depart your self-made cage
“A Story That Ought Never Be Told”
A wretched soul, bruised with adversity
Whose heart is plagued by hatred of herself
Because her mind believes with certainty
That her story shouldn’t have left the shelf
Roy E. Peterson, San Angelo, Texas
Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Thine hair is more like a dry stack of hay.
Then when I came to embrace upon it,
Pitchforks changed the tenor of my sonnet.
Roy E. Peterson, San Angelo, Texas
Unthrifty loveliness, why dost thou spend
Hundreds of dollars on what thou cans’t mend?
Thou paintest thine hair a weird shade of blue.
Thine face ash appeareth, a ghastly hue.
In line 2 it should be “can’t” instead of “cans’t.”
Over hill, over dale,
A young woman, frail,
Wanders the world,
Heart unfurled.
Lily Canniff, Arizona
Since only two poems can be entered into the competition, the first two poems are my entries in the contest and third one is just for fun. My thanks to my wife for helping edit the second poem. — Mark Stone, Ohio, U.S.A.
The lady doth protest too much, me thinks.
She still contests the vote and says it stinks
that Trump won in an underhanded way.
But who paid for the FISA dossier?
I loved not so wisely, instead much too well.
The lesions ensuing continue to swell.
The decades of carefree, insouciant mingling
have left me all crusty and itchy and tingling.
Good night. Good night. Our parting is sweet sorrow.
The ousted Senator leaves town tomorrow.
Instead of draining it, he turned the swamp
into a hot tub where he loved to romp.
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And here in Maine, the buds are weak and few
Until mid-June. The winds of winter stay
Too long, too long. Brief Summer’s skies–so blue!
Christopher Calvin, Mojokerto, Indonesia
The Day for The Bride
Maiden pinks, of odour faint,
I sense flourish day, and nature’s bliss
True sweet existence followed by song of birds
Angel ascends, bell rings, Here comes the bride
Christopher Calvin, Mojokerto, Indonesia
Bad Wind Away from Today
Heigh-ho! sing, heigh-ho! unto the green holly:
Sing me joy, yell me love, enjoy this life
As we blow winter, bring wind of autumn, light of spring
As our friends not fiend, may these times alive and live
Shall I Compare Thee To A Midsummer’s Night’s Dream?
shall I compare thee to A summer-‘s day?
Will’s Night’s Dream fairy Mid-dle of the play
get to Bottom of who lover maybe
sonnet’s secret Dark Lady mystery
Playing On The Hunger For Love
if music be the food of love, play on
words going off the neck-tar of the guitar scale son (et
Welsh-Harping on about a banquet of the key senses
the playing’s the thing to air-on-a-g-string-out her defences
Unloving Insight
I love nothing in the world so much as you-is not that strange?
Till I recall love’s eyes-
Which never see the blind-
Or dumb or lame.
Thy Taxes, Citizen (Direct Un-Deposit Advice)
To thine own self be true,
Yet by unfortunate report thy livelihood disown;
With taxing labor file down thy figure too,
Till thy remains are worse than gross.
E. A. Akindele, Edmonton, AB, Canada
I.
Cowards die many times before their deaths
And cease from life to draw a single breath.
To die in shame is murder to the soul,
But oh, to live for love is bliss beyond!
II.
All that glitters is not gold
And all that fails is not folly
For by fate, good and bad
Shall be revealed consequently.
(Pericles, Prince of Tyre, Prologue)
“Et bonum quo antiquius, eo melius,”
But can we hope, in this now fallen age
Where Culture shakes as Marxists rage,
That even Shakespeare might deliver us?
(The Rape of Lucrece)
“Shall rotten death make conquest of the stronger?”
Never! While Faith still lives and hearts are pure,
The flame of Western triumph shall endure
And courage strengthen where the odds are longer.