A winter’s tale set in a midsummer night’s dream
A play write scripted to the ends of what means
All the gold of King John could not buy the love blooming from those two
Thusly, then I must ask or say
Romeo, Romeo wherefore art thy Juliet…
Speak to the merchant trudging the streets of Venice
Looking for his silver pieces that are now in the eyes of King Lear
Who leers at the death of Julius Caesar as an error in comedy
While three witches foresee a fate written to lay claim the foolish Macbeth’s ears
A measure for a measure two gentlemen of Verona argued
As Hamlet contemplated death in the twelfth night
…To be or not to be he wondered, and all’s well that ends well he guessed,
As love’s labor became lost
But, he held a dagger in one hand and poison in the other
Such a task in thee taming of the shrew…
Therefore, Henry please speak to Othello…his wife is not to blame
This tempest is much ado about nothing Richard proclaimed
For Cleopatra still stands by Antony as you like it so, do not fall to shame
Thereby, in the ink staining this quill a poet poses sonnets
There tragic revenge whispered a story that screams “beware the ides of March”
Yet, a half deaf King died trusting the virtue beaming off that Brutus…
Although you see, Sir William had a gift; He pulled at the people’s hearts…
Making spears shake, and peacefully because of his words did they tilt for a play
…Thus, the open curtains of his soul
Will only fall when the stages are forever quiet and when they are forever dark
~ Paradise’s Poet ~
