Happy Birthday, Master William!
When shall we three meet again?
It’s always such a pleasure to spend time
with your best pals in front of a good pint,
it’s just a shame we meet so seldom now,
we should do this more often from now on.
What light through yonder window breaks?
Oh, no, my neighbour’s at it yet again!
He’s drunk and now he cannot find his keys,
I’m sick of being blinded by his torch,
the noise he makes is getting on my nerves!
What dreams may come in that sleep of death?
I saw him only yesterday, alive
and kicking, watching football on TV…
Poor Dignam, what did you do to deserve
that final stroke before they scored and won?
If you wrong us, shall we not revenge?
Can you at least park decently next time?
Your old clunker’s a mess, a pile of rust,
and regularly stationed right beside
my gate! You’re warned: I’m not a saint like Job!
Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Yes, yes! You should have been there, heard them talk!
She was blushing, and she hung on his lips,
he told her she was all the world to him –
never mentioning his wife or his kids…
Today’s prompt from napowrimo.net was confused and confusing as never before – should it be “based [on] sound?” Or about poetry sounding like the spoken language? Or about song lyrics, or – why not, at this point? – what sounds like “local clichés?” (O no, not another one with idioms, proverbs, and clichés!) The way I interpreted it, one was meant to incorporate bits of conversation, and quotations, and chit-chat into a poem, a bit like T.S. Eliot did in the pub scene of The Waste Land (which reminds me: “Hurry up, please, it’s time!” – it’s taken me all day to come up with a few lines…)
Anyway, here it is: “a poem based in sound. The poem, for example, could incorporate overheard language. Perhaps it could incorporate a song lyric in some way, or language from something often heard spoken aloud (a prayer, a pledge, the Girl Scout motto). Or you could use a regional or local phrase from your hometown that you don’t hear elsewhere[.]”
Well, it’s the 23rd of April, by St. George and the mighty dragon he slayed, it’s Shakespeare’s birthday today, so how could I avoid a(n albeit minimal) celebration?