Writer’s Block

notepad_pen

 

When asked his most feared thing
Papa Hemingway replied – a blank sheet of paper
Today that same pale page is mine

Sappho wrote – What cannot be said, is wept
Yet nothing flows fluidly from my mind’s eye
My soul’s ambrosial reservoir unfilled

The Bard declared – The purpose of words is to give them away
So I am the beggar starving with a hunger to host
a wordthy banquet where all may gorge

But because Bukowski barked –
Writing about writer’s block is better than not writing at all
I offer nothing but these thoughts this day

Shakespeare Today III

Introduction:

When to the sessions of sweet silent thought
I summon up remembrance of things past,
I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought,
And with old woes new wail my dear time’s waste:

(Shakespeare, Sonnet 30)


Shakespeare Sonnet 3 Final

While writing plays for public approbation
On youthful lovers or a woman’s temper
My whole life I have hid my real vocation
For my true calling was to be a jester.
For Seinfeld I’d with much ado play George
Or even be straight guy for Ray Romano
I’d swipe the stool from under Victor Borge
Ventriloquize with Yorick’s empty cranio
Rude Sarah Silverman – I’d tame that shrew
I’d act the ham – let Russell Brand be droller
Midsummer nights with Tina Fey would cue
Crude jokes about my codpiece from Ms Poehler;
Perchance to pilot on prime-time TV…
To flee or not to flee to comedy?


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Shakespeare Today I

Shakespeare Today II

 

David Gilmour with Bill Shakespeare

David Gilmour of Pink Floyd interprets Shakespeare’s Sonnet 18

Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer’s lease hath all too short a date:
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm’d;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or nature’s changing course untrimm’d;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;
Nor shall Death brag thou wander’st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou growest:
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this and this gives life to thee.