"The Plays the thing..."
This is one of the greatest plays and we are going to really look at what is going on in this masterpiece. This week, you will write a 16 line poem and it will take one aspect from Hamlet and weave it throughout.
Don't look it up! Think for yourselves. When you allow others to interpret text for you, YOU give up on YOURSELF and the ability to think. YOU are better than that.
An example using another text (Draft):
Candles get snuffed out and the darkness seeps in
to take over. The wax freezes in its march, marking time
until the heat releases the next forward step. The smell of extinguished light
floats upward sticking to the walls, the mirrors, and the ceiling leaving footprints
that grey color over time. For something gone,
it lingers--a reminder that existence, though brief,
once warmed this spot. Took up space. Breathed in and out. Contributed.
"*1We do not read or write poetry because it's cute. We read and write poetry
because we are members of the human race." We are members who are afraid
that existence means nothing. So, we follow the smoke through the air searching
for a voice--
for an identity--
for a place where we fit in. We fail to see in the darkness...
Looking forward. Putting our sight on the "out there, over there,
everywhere", gets us nowhere. We think we are wicked, spiteful,
hidden. We try on the voices of others to flesh out our own--
gain an audience, silence discontent.
The spark that lights a candle is friction--ideas pressed
against others. The light catches, and what once was hidden is illuminated.
The fire dancing in the wind is not extinguished because what once
had no shape, no hope, or no vision is found.
What once was invisible becomes the light.
*1Borrowed from Dead Poet's Society
Ophelia is my love,
ReplyDeleteBut I feel lost at sea.
I do know what is life,
To be or not to be.
My father no longer lives,
But my mother lives with gaiety.
I cannot trust anyone,
My heart is filled with enmity.
My uncle is a king
Who I can hardly call my kin.
I wish to escape his treachery,
But suicide is a sin.
In a world filled without trust,
Yet a world filled with spies,
I see myself in a prison,
A life I so greatly despise.
Srivastava R, 2
Blood is in the eyes of the offended,
ReplyDeletethose who mourn and cry of other's disdain.
There's but one way for hearts to be mended.
From the revenge they seek, they can't abstain.
They poison your father and steal your mum.
Your family's broken with nowhere to turn.
Eye for an eye is a good rule of thumb.
Revenge becoming your only concern.
Trade an eye for an eye, or arm for arm.
Plan carefully and don't rush to action.
If you move too quickly, you'll raise alarm.
A thought alone gives no satisfaction.
From their lives you may destroy your own,
be fast with your sword and quick with your wit.
After killing them all you're left alone.
But for their death, your own you must commit.
-Ryan M. 2
buy another frame
DeleteSilence-
ReplyDeletewhen this mortal coil is bound;
wrapped tightly like a nematode around the stubby finger of an infant
as the bouncing baby plays dreams in his crib
until his soft cheeks redden with tears and mother comes to sooth him.
Now the boy stands with a knife in his hand branded with impossible responsibility.
He asks questions of innocence-
Where is this innocence that’s weaved on a mill of God and morality?
Was it poured down the ear of a father as he lied in his august bed?
Does it pour too from our ears,
in our own beds much less august as we cry like the baby of nightmares-
nightmares that keep the nematode on the finger
and not boring each second a line deeper toward the heart
to guide the poison-soaked tip of one’s own dagger?
Is it a dream that steals the last breath of a boy
to beg that his story be told forever until the inevitable day that
all these rusted coils, in the clutches of that squeaky mattress of infinity,
again create only silence?
Jankovsky A. 7-8
Is blood thicker than water?
ReplyDeleteWhat is vanity to the vain
I drink in the song of the dead
With my husbands death a stain
I pledge my allegiance to thee
My son’s innocence- stripped
Which direction do I turn?
It is a matter I cannot decree
The power rests with me,
As I put the cup to my lips
Do I take the side of my kin
And commit a wrongful sin
Poison pours down my throat
In this I escape my woes
Is this poetic justice for my transgressions?
Or is it really just a blessing
Aguinaga, C 7/8*
A love so pure but for class abstain,
ReplyDeletea tragedy strikes, and madness gain;
expect not feeling nor time to weep,
for sanity one family keeps
To lose but one and not the other,
deranged to some, no fit for lovers,
veins like rivers in which blood flows,
fall silent in tandem with death's throes
Seeping madness in vengeful whispers,
lines blurred between brothers and sisters,
none to confide in, no words to be said,
conscience hanging by merely a thread
In darkness to fall, gone mad in the night,
a garden of mind, a disease shall blight,
flowers fall to waters like tar,
a soul taken to the lands afar.
Avery, A 2nd.
This comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeletePeople go to cemeteries to see their dead loved ones,
ReplyDeletePausing next to their stones, cleaning them, talking to them
And then just walk right over all the rest of the stones
On the way back to the car.
See, those caskets under the stones;
They were once people, too
With families, jobs, pets,
Favorite foods, things that made them smile,
Faults and gods and failures and dreams
And life.
And they’re gone, just like the person you came to visit.
I’m not saying you should stop and chat,
But a little respect for what’s passed wouldn't hurt.
And after all, your own relative is
Decomposing in a coffin
Just as
They
Are.
You’ll be there, too, someday, so
Be polite.
Say “excuse me” when you walk by.
Tidy up a stone that the grass forgot about.
Think about how you would want
YOUR final resting place to be treated.
And above all, remember those the ground swallowed are
The reason you’re here.
Respect.
Have to practice it to get it.
Maslach, K 2
Who possesses the voice discoursing inside my head?
ReplyDeleteMother, can you hear him? I deem him to be dead.
Mother, where are you going? My grief deeply consumes me,
I believe the voice is Father’s, his telling’s are abysmal.
Mother, what have you done? You’ve married the blood of father,
Though I have never seen a blood so fraudulent as this.
Mother, why can’t you hear me? I’m screaming oh so loud,
My worth has been hushed by madness, the truth is coming out.
Mother, can’t you see through me? There’s more than this façade,
Your beings are all a game, and I the player of reality.
Mother, why don’t you love me? You rid of me without a breath,
How could you betray me? My life will soon be death.
Mother, why are you thirsty? This is not a good time,
Mother, what are you doing? You’ve committed the worst of crimes.
Mother, my lungs are slowing, but I breathe now to say to you,
You chose true love over power, Mother’s love always pulls through
Shaniuk, B 7/8
I am a phantom, I am a ghost unheard,
ReplyDeleteI walk down the hall silently without saying a word.
I tend not to speak, I know how I am perceived,
However, I come to tell you that I have been deceived.
Though I am quiet, my words, they do have meaning,
Listen, my darling, to the words that I am speaking.
I come to send a message, though my words sound twisted,
It is how I speak, the way that my tongue has insisted.
The world looks much different on the other side,
New faces, new places, I am the other half of the divide.
When I tell you my story, it might ring a bell,
But how you will handle it, only time will truly tell.
It is a tale of my life: both wonder and woe,
I suggest you act upon it quid pro quo.
On my face I’ve plastered a stupid toothy grin,
As you continuously laugh at my expressions, it is my cue to begin.
-Kett J 2
I am a reverse gravedigger.
ReplyDeleteInstead of burying people, I unearth them –
Hold up their bones and announce: Here they are!
Look, they’re not gone! They lived, and it meant something!
The dirt under my fingernails is testimony
To how long I’ve been scratching at coffins,
Trying to extract evidence of life.
It’s comforting to assign each skeleton an identity.
This one here: Queen Elizabeth I, my inspiration as a woman.
And these ashes: Van Gogh, my inspiration as an artist.
Perhaps someone will dig up my own ribcage one day,
cradling it like an ancient relic, swearing it once held King’s heart,
or Gandhi’s.
And maybe that’s all life is:
scavenging through graveyards,
holding each skull up to the light and
giving it a name.
Keller N 7/8
There is demise in family dynasty
ReplyDeleteTheir minds corrupt and disrupt the mistrusting kingdom
No families are safe, not even those who pray
Regardless of to be or not to be, they all have their day.
Brothers killing brothers, and nephews alike
Merciless in vengeance, no thought of respite
Now ghosts wander the kingdom-
With tragic thoughts, believing it to be their freedom.
Love is false and simply an act for three
To keep life one must love with passion and glee yet-
When the doors close they slice at the curtains-
How rude of them to destroy what isn’t theirs.
Death spirals about more than fingers in a cup
Family reunions result in bodies to clean up
When the drinks are drunk, and the blood be spilt
One thinks, oh what a family, one with no guilt
Turnea, D 2nd Period
Mad—no
ReplyDeleteJust considering the worms,
Commemorating life by digesting it
Maybe mad
but I can’t know for sure,
Maybe if I believed in God
No. Heaven’s floors are not marble but linoleum
Memories have weight, gravity,
Sometimes pulling persons into themselves,
Double-layering a being,
bending space-time
So do worms absorb the memory-mass of a lifetime?
The teashop talks from Sundays past,
Perchance a love affair, or two
Or do they bore through dirt and corpse the same,
An entire existence devoted to
Recycling the was for what is
And what will be
Bruggeman J 7/8th
The Lies and Deceit of Hamlet
ReplyDeleteTo kill your own brother for his wife
Or the fact that Hamlet is not going to make her his wife
In the game of statuses, we must mingle
For it is better to have an army than to be single
Although a mystic dream from the past
Hamlet is not half bad
It still poses the cruelty, the materialism and waste of the soul
For in diamonds we trust, we see no person as a whole
See Hamlet is different than the modern day
Poisoning someone’s ear is no longer the way
But the backstabbing, the treachery we find
Still exists in the portals of online
So although a play of a distant time
The horrid, the degradation still exists in our prime
Although Hamlet is a little harder to understand
Shakespeare still represents the horror that exists within human hands
Megan Lear 2nd Period
The meaning of “blood”
ReplyDeleteAn idea so often discussed
As if deception
Could not permeate
Something seen sacred
A silly stupid idea
The concept of revenge
There is no getting even
Even only in death
When the absence of breath
Is what we all share
But as is quite evident
The only trait blood has
Is its inability
To be cleaned up
Once it is let free
Crow 7/8
Dad dad, wherefore art thou thy dad?
ReplyDeleteYou are making me sad.
For I wish you were still King,
All dressed and crowned with bling.
You come to visit me as a ghost,
They think I am mad and send me off the England Coast.
For i just want to avenge your death,
Thus I shall kill and seize his breath.
Uncle this is of course,
For he poisoned you like a horse.
Through the ear it went like a spout,
Although they say it was your heart that just gave out.
This is a lie for you have spoken to me,
And now they shall see.
I turn into a man that is mad,
When it comes to my dad.
Asturi, V 7/8
What even is a normal family?
ReplyDeleteI know not.
With a dead father and a mother drifting from man to man,
I know not.
With an uncle as a murderer, of my father even,
I know not.
My family is not the only family that is struggling,
That I do know.
However, are their issues as intense as ours?
I think not.
Is there as much grief with them?
I think not.
Oh how I wish for my family to be normal
But in reality,
Is there ever really a normal family for anybody?
No, there is not.
Bunting A 2nd
Do I cower? Does my lack of vexation
ReplyDeleteDefeat me. Ha! I shall be
Humoured at by thine enemy.
How I should have torn organs
And made bloody the halls
Of this treacherous
Dastardly villain. What vengeance!
O, how the son be coerced
To venge murder; T’is like a shamed
Harlot to cry revenge. Yet,
As those convicted experience
Their treachery, what soul is burnt and
Guilt is forth shown. What
Looks of ghostly flesh shall fail
The devil test. My sure observance
Shall execute this disturbance
Palmer 7/8
Everyone dead.
ReplyDeleteSome here. Some there.
Except one. We reason with ourselves to find the culprit.
Was it love?
Deceit?
Our own blood?
We look into a mirror.
We see light in the background.
Shadow in the foreground.
We think to ourselves what it all means.
Can you rely on anyone?
Does the only hope within come from merely ourselves?
Society’s face tells us the truth.
The only reason you remain alive is because of you.
Your decisions, actions, thoughts, drive your existence.
In just one moment, though, your existence can be killed.
Cika, M 2
ReplyDeletePatience is a virtue,
So is trust within,
Family ties cut off,
Through just a touch of sin.
Kin shall be betrayed,
By mother who is thy blood,
To find the man who wrecked it all,
Is whom she’s dreaming of.
Words they cut like butter,
Though swords seem to do too,
Murdering one another,
For power through and through.
Trust no man of relation,
For death is his creation,
Creating termination,
Of one that he so dearly “loves.”
Mewhinney, M 2
The same blood flows through us
ReplyDeleteBut I would hardly call us family
Your love is made of gold and kingdoms
Unfit to be a queen; unfit to love me
To lose the one who mattered
And now a walking travesty
The lines are blurred; what is the truth
Just a madman pretending to be sane
The facades come down
The curtains have been opened
Exposed like a nerve
And now we wait
Judgment day is coming
Truth will out
Cursed blade shall end me
Will I be the sinner or the saint?
Gall, A 2
Hidden behind every curtain,
ReplyDeleteOf physical or mental reality
Hides a figure shrouded in darkness
That plays it's part
Madness seeks them out while I identify them as the enemy
I seek to destroy them,
Because of the lies they use to hide right in plain sight
Because of the lives they plan to ruin
The farther I dig
I find that no one is immune from their crushing fate
That webs expand far beyond what I had thought
An interwoven web that criss-crosses and divides itself
Each line out for itself
To call out any attention belittles my sanity
Though everyone is aware
That no matter how someone seems that
They are planning someone's despair
And to call it out will bring about demise
Even my own
Supina, R 2
What is madness?
ReplyDeleteAm I mad?
Talking to ghosts?
Pining after some girl?
What could it possibly be?
It is not known
Yet, they say I am mad,
Though I do not think I am.
Others think they know,
But really they only assume.
They think I am grieving
Or I am crazy with love,
But rather I am angry
I am seeking my revenge.
So here is the answer:
Madness is not me.
LoDolce, A 7/8
This comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteUse me
ReplyDeleteAbuse me
I'm withered away anyway.
Falling deeper and deeper as I sink
I will still keep a happy smile on my face.
I will still sing on the top of my lungs
while you speak your harsh words.
I will still gaze at flowers
while you lie about my whole world.
You said you loved me,
and I felt it true.
Now as I pretend you're wrong
I see it through.
Walking around, feeling no importance
Maybe I'll go mad, to feel something real.
As I look down and prepare to jump,
best believe I don't think of you.
In my last thoughts
I see my reflection, as if I'm in two.
Who are you inside?
Full enough to float or,
withered away enough to sink.
Deeper and deeper I fall,
and I realize no one will ever, ever answer my call.
S. Güt 7/8
Much admired, but always growing alone
ReplyDeleteWinding through the gardens, beautiful, but
Dainty, weak.
Rosemary, pansies, fennel, columbines,
Mad, you think me to be
But you do not understand.
Rue, daisies, violets
These soft petals come with a message.
You don’t understand.
Meanings as sharp of rose thorns
Accidental, or intentional.
My choice was clear,
To be or not to be,
Hamlet was unsure,
I am not.
Not to be.
Florek, E. 7/8
Betrayal.
ReplyDeleteFelt in the heart like a gunshot wound,
Or a knife stabbed in the back.
Wondering how you truly found yourself in the situation.
Betrayal.
Despair felt like no other pain;
Hurting, crying, wishing for change.
Contemplating everything, to be or not to be, that is the question.
Betrayal.
There is nothing worse than betrayal from thy own.
Betrayal that lingers in the mind and soul.
But, how does one avenge betrayal and make a comeback?
Betrayal.
Revenge is the only salvation;
An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, a life for a life.
Redeem yourself and seek revenge.
Life is a matter of what ifs
ReplyDeleteAre we sure?
It is a continuous game of deduction,
Clues are never concrete
Circumstances are not always absolute
The scariest part of life’s journey is the unknown.
What-who-when-where—and why?
At any moment a ghost could appear
Changing every belief you’ve ever had
Creating clouds of uncertainty in your life
Looming, dark
Foretelling the struggles of tomorrow,
The often-ambiguous search for justice
As if they were from the sun, rays of righteousness
Pierce clouds of doubt,
Casting light upon truths unknown.
Sansone A 2nd
Am I mad?
ReplyDeleteTo see the ghost of my murdered kin,
to weep though your eyes are dry,
and my grief weighs more than yours
but you are not mad.
I am not mad
I am what I say I am
And this is not what I am.
Am I mad?
To have my love murder my kin,
to weep through wild eyes,
and my grief makes me mad.
But you are not mad
though you say you are.
You made this way. You three.
That is not what I am.
C Parey 7/8
Four little birdies
ReplyDeleteFull feathered, blue
Fly uncaringly around the forest
Free, together, true
Three little birdies
Confused with their place
Learn the truth of the world
Hell for them to face
Two little birdies
Lost in the sky
Stagger separately in the wind
Who is next to die?
One little birdy
Alone, angry, afraid
Will he ever fly again?
Or has his fate been made?
K Brav 7/8
My father is my uncle.
ReplyDeleteI have a father named Hamlet,
But I am my uncle’s son.
My mother is my aunt.
Marrying for the throne
Is heavily looked down upon
Where incest is concerned
One of the greatest sins to God
A ghost looking like Hamlet shows up
Causing greater pain within this house of horrors.
As he plants the idea to avenge his death
Within my weeping skull.
A plot against Claudius is conceived but not
Without the suffering of others along the way.
Until alas I have killed my mother, uncle, and I…
What a pitiful life I have lived.
- Bolger, J. 2
An eye for an eye as some would say,
ReplyDeleteHas lead me down this blood covered road.
My uncle, my new father, I must slay.
For he killed my father, and took over his abode.
I have no qualms with ending his life,
He deserves it, that I am sure,
After all, Uncle killed my father and took his wife.
And once vengeance sets in the heart there is no cure.
I will avenge my father; I will take back my mother
Like a viper I will strike, he shall not escape my wrath.
Even if one crime shall lead to another,
I am already walking the vengeful path.
If I should die in my search for vengeance,
Dear father, there is no need to fear,
With my last breathe I shall send uncle to the entrance,
Once in Hell, dear Uncle, you will remain right here.
~C. Lenhoff 2nd
The Rumors
ReplyDeleteSitting upon the branch of a tree,
Tragic events have made her lonely,
People’s voices spinning around her head,
All saying her loved father is dead.
But there is a different story from every peasant,
The rumors and stories are burning rampant,
Not with grief but with vulgar poison,
Are the stores their vicious tongues have spun.
Her reputation has vanished,
The strength in her has been demolished,
Placed amongst the other outcasts,
She sits and reminisces her lost past.
She hears a splash and glances down,
Pure water glistens from all around,
Perhaps the water would be more friendly,
Than weeping along with a willow tree.
Patel D 2
“They Disgust Me”
ReplyDeleteI look at how we are treated
And I wonder, why is it so?
Then They go and do something stupid
Like drown themselves and I have my answer.
They blow something totally out of proportion
Which leaves the rest of us to deal
With the sexism and the idea we are weak
But it is not all of us.
There are only a few that cannot handle
The life that They have made for themselves,
That pine after the one.
They are surprised when he does not return the emotion
And then They drown themselves in sheer sadness.
No, that is not what should happen.
If They were strong They could move on from this.
Those who are weak for men disgust me.
Dame, E 2
Perhaps the water will greet me
ReplyDeleteAnd congratulate me
As I am its equal
For it knows I am just as strong
Alike it's tides of fury and force
I acted the same
Dealing my judgement
Through the petals of flowers
Like the water in my lungs
Nobody suspects me
Water is so common
Nobody imagines dying within it
In the end it is just the river and I
In all of our glory
My judgement floats with me
As we all go down together
-Javorsky, R 2
My father is dead,
ReplyDeleteBut so is his father,
And his father’s father,
And his father’s father’s father.
And one day soon,
I will be, too.
Dead, just like my father,
And my father’s father.
The ways in which we die
Will vary one person to the next,
But we all die eventually,
We all die in the end.
It’s the circle of life,
And there’s no escape.
It’s better to accept the inevitable doom…
Or is it?
-Dushek, K 2˚
O Brother, my Brother
ReplyDeleteHow could you have forsaken me so?
You've taken my life without thinking twice
And remained hidden when they pronounced me dead.
All that I had and all that I loved was taken
In your quest for power.
My wife's love and loyalty
And my son's potential to bring about prosperity and peace in Denmark
Was shattered by your greed.
Selfishness and ostentatious displays have replaced loyalty and honesty.
My people have no leader to combat the threat that Denmark faces.
Norway laughs while you play king,
Growing stronger each day as you try to switch places.
Now listen as the King of Denmark speaks.
Your thirst for power has ravaged my kingdom.
My family was slaughtered by your ambition.
But your actions shall not go unnoticed,
And you shall suffer the consequences of your treacherous deeds.
Judele C, 2nd
My brother lays in his earthy bed
ReplyDeleteAs I safely rest my newly crowned head.
His wife is now my own
And Hamlet can remain a mere heir to the throne.
That spoiled, rotten, deadly brat
Is up to something sinister, I am sure of that.
I’ll send him to England and off with his head!
Just like his father, I want Hamlet dead.
The letter’s been sent, the poison’s been stirred
Laertes’ thirst for revenge has been spurred.
The trap is set, I’ll be safe from Hamlet’s sword
I’ll avoid death and remain Denmark’s new lord.
What is this, my queen?
She takes a sip and from her lips a scream!
And Laertes falls, away with my plan.
I have met my match with death, ending my reign as quickly as it began.
Hornung, A. 7/8
I wrote mine about the last scene, when all the people die in a short amount of time.
ReplyDeleteSwords cross each other like it’s a dance,
And to think everyone thought it was just because of a romance.
Being mad was just a ploy
Or was it?
His life was turned upside down just by a drop of poison,
And now he was chosen.
Chosen to do what his father cannot,
To take revenge and tie a knot.
Just like his uncle did with his mother,
Making it seem like she had no other.
Now here they are, facing their demons.
There is no way he could have a better reason.
To avenge his father, and take back the throne.
But things go wrong, and the rightful heir is unknown.
The wine has the power to give the punishment.
But I guess everyone had the means for a dose.
A dose of what will make a new.
But is what also split the family in two.
So here they are, dancing with swords,
He is now the only one his father adores.
Reva 7/8
they all watch
ReplyDeleteand i watch them, watching me
and i wonder how they are watching but not seeing
i don't understand how blindness is contagious
how small talk becomes deep conversation
and the vague topics are admired for their depth
why do they not see that i am acting
how all of this has just happened
yet it too becomes casual conversation
a painted mask,
a stolen identity,
are both so trivial compared to how i feel
like novacane,
my brain cant handle their shallow souls
and i laugh crazily to hide my uncertainty
"to be or not to be, that is the question"
westphal 2nd
You are the prince
ReplyDeleteBut you are mad.
He is the king
But he is a murderer.
A tragic flaw in all of them
Something wrong under the surface.
Downfall to their fortune
And an uncomfortable discovery of character.
Perhaps there is something more,
Maybe more bad than good.
Something that tears at the inside
Waiting to make its exterior appearance.
Evil is bound to everyone
Madness hides within.
Inability to cope,
Might just cause the soul a sin
Is death truly an obsession?
ReplyDeleteFueled by mystery and uncertainty.
It consumes ones thoughts
Like smoke can fill a room.
Is suicide really the answer?
Taking ones life pushed by emotions.
One struggles with these thoughts
The thoughts to live through life or suffer.
Is committing a murder morally right?
Or does it set off a chain reaction?
The information is received from a ghost
One at the helm of the situation.
Is death found as an act of revenge?
Or is seen as a punishment from life?
One must ask himself,
To be or not to be.
Wasylko, G 7/8th
Give me one good reason why I should not kill my uncle.
ReplyDelete…my “father”…ugh it disgusts me.
My real father should be here, not the scum that stands with his head under the crown.
He took my father away from me, so let me take the world away from him.
I have seen Hamlet’s ghost.
I must avenge his death.
No one will stop me.
Death will not stop me.
But wait, I must halt.
There he sits – praying.
No. I cannot let him go to heaven.
He must pay for what he has done.
Injustice must be served with equal weight.
Eye for an eye.
A stab. A gulp.
The deed is done.
Rest in anything but peace.
Woods 2
I’m beginning to think I’ve lost my mind
ReplyDeleteFor the supernatural has presented itself once more.
Time is what I cannot seem to find,
As my thoughts spiral through this newfound horror.
“Come out, come out” I beg and plead
And swear to myself that I haven’t gone mad.
A journey will commence, beginning with this seed:
A figure so faint possesses commentary to add.
“A ghost, you say?” echoes through my brain,
And I tell them “To believe it, you must see on your own.”
As many a man confirm that I’m sane,
In the depths of this castle, my beliefs are thrown.
This figure we see resembles a man we once served,
And the moment that truly made me cringe
Was when it began to tell stories most absurd,
And demanded the prince avenge the fallen king.
Cruse S, 2
The death of one man can only be cured
ReplyDeletewith the death of another, Oh how very pure.
The darkest desire arises and grows,
vengeance is strong as a wind's sudden blow.
A skull in a hand and a thought in the mind,
a tooth for a tooth and an eye for an eye.
The sight is tainted with hatred so black,
there is a fine line between sanity and mad.
Those closest around fear for their lives,
for there is no saying in death who goes first.
Fear rises and spreads like the rash or hive,
the mystery of death is the queen and it thrives.
Death doesn't take one, or two or just three,
but It takes a handful all 'cause of thee.
To kill and be killed and cause death in a spree,
the real question is: To be or not to be.
Galvan E. 2nd
Revenge
ReplyDeleteIt's the feeling that creeps in on your mind,
When something sinister encroaches.
That feeling of utter blackness,
seeping from the pores of your skin.
It's the feeling that brings tears to your eyes,
As your body drips with rage.
That feeling of utter betrayal,
from someone you thought you could trust.
It's never easy to wield this feeling,
To channel it into doing what it wants you to do.
But the feeling never leaves you,
Filling you with bitterness and hate.
Inevitably, you will follow through,
Exacting revenge on the person who wronged you.
Will it be worth the trouble you'll face?
Oh, that is for you to decide, my dear.
- Bahr, S. 7/8*
The Rumors
ReplyDeleteSitting upon the branch of a tree,
Tragic events have made her lonely,
People’s voices spinning around her head,
All saying her loved father is dead.
But there is a different story from every peasant,
The rumors and stories are burning rampant,
Not with grief but with vulgar poison,
Are the stores their vicious tongues have spun.
Her reputation has vanished,
The strength in her has been demolished,
Placed amongst the other outcasts,
She sits and reminisces her lost past.
She hears a splash and glances down,
Pure water glistens from all around,
Perhaps the water would be more friendly,
Than weeping along with a willow tree.
Patel D 2