Fifteen years ago or so, unboundried
with Shakespeare's plays, they were
another arm, foot, or heart of my own.
I died with true Desdemona pleading,
flowered myself like Ophelia, floating
and muddied in her river grave, hated
Claudio and loved Benedict as Beatrice.
Bottom's mule mouth I entranced kissed.
I subjoined for days betwixt thoughts -
theirs, mine, and Modern and Elizabethan
time. Now, studying Twelfth Night or
Othello's decent into I know not what,
I awake unencumbered, expanded,
hearing the sunrise and sunset of rhyme.
Welcome to Four Lines! I have a goal I would like to write at least four lines of poetry or a haiku every day for the rest of my life. I'm excited about this challenge! Also, along with my daily poem, I will be reading at least four lines of another author's poetry. I'll try to include that here also. So I'm thinking - how difficult can it be to read and then write one poem a day? We will see! - Claudia
All poems on this blog, unless noted, are written by Claudia Callaghan.
© 2011, 2012, 2013, 2014, 2015, 2016 Claudia Callaghan
Used only with permission. Please feel free to join Four Lines and request permission.