Poetry

[BroadwayMaybe]

So I'm a bit of a romantic and, as an actor who loves his Shakespeare, I'm a bit of a poet. I'd love some feedback, so here's one of my older ones:


Ode to an Unknown Muse
a prose poem

Perfection does not justify you.
Truly a treasure to behold.
A woman with a girlish charm.
A modest goddess.
A face comprised of precious gems:
Sapphire eyes. Ruby lips.
A smile that puts to shame the sheen of diamonds.
A vixen's visage. A golden girl.
Simply a sight for sorer eyes than mine.
May the David's marble crack and crumble in shame
If ever it may have the luck view your frame.
Your beauty is unmatched,
Much like your personality.
Sweet, yet sultry. Bright, yet balanced.
Perfectly flawed and flawlessly perfect.
Bombastic I might be, but hell
Hyperbole does do you well.
You are suited for superlatives.

But, my heart aches to be near you.
Wondering if you may know my yearning.
For you, chivalry would spring to life
Equalling only that of Lancelot.
If ever a tear should stain your face,
I will stay with you until you bid me leave.
Say the word, and I shall sweep you off your feet.
And you shall be a princess to an unworthy prince.
You inspire symphonies yet to be heard
Books yet to be read
Speeches of love yet to be hollered to the heavens.
For you, I can be comfort. For you, I can be daring.
For you, I can be passion. For you, I can be love.

Though I may purge my soul of passionate truth,
You will still remain unknown.
Not to me, but rather to yourself.
For you are the tragic muse of a coward.
Afraid to even say your name.


What do you think? If you like, then I'd love to post more

 

[BroadwayMaybe]

Not bad. But to be honest, I'm not swept off my feet.
But still, not bad. It leaves room for interpretation and may provide a certain picture of the author...

If you're an actor who loves his Shakespeare, do you've got some sonnets?

I do have some sonnets, if you'd like.

 

[BroadwayMaybe]

What Happened in Washington Square
a sonnet

What happened in Washington Square that night? Indeed.
A cooler night in May as I recall
I met you at the fountain with a need.
Prepared to take a leap, and maybe fall.
We walked and talked for three hours at least
Of dogs, or cars, or superficial stuff
I tried to take my chance, to say my piece
But the courage I'd possessed was not enough
We'd said goodnight, no different than before.
I walked home, crossing once more through the park
Happy it was empty one night more
So none could catch me crying in the dark.

We talk, we walk, we laugh, we joke, we part.
How empty is the park now, and my heart.

 

[TragicPoet]

"Like burnt-out torches by a sick man's bed
Gaunt cypress-trees stand round the sun-bleached stone;
Here doth the little night-owl make her throne,
And the slight lizard show his jewelled head.
And, where the chaliced poppies flame to red,
In the still chamber of yon pyramid
Surely some Old-World Sphinx lurks darkly hid,
Grim warder of this pleasaunce of the dead.

Ah! sweet indeed to rest within the womb
Of Earth, great mother of eternal sleep,
But sweeter far for thee a restless tomb
In the blue cavern of an echoing deep,
Or where the tall ships founder in the gloom
Against the rocks of some wave-shattered steep." -The Grave of Shelley, By: Oscar Wilde

 

[TragicPoet]

"Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

`Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jujub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!'

He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the manxome foe he sought --
So rested he by the Tumtum gree,
And stood awhile in thought.

And as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wook,
And burbled as it came!

One, two! One, two! And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.

`And has thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Calloh! Callay!
He chortled in his joy.

`Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe." Through the Looking-Glass, By Lewis Carroll

 

[TragicPoet]

I CAN go on ALL night =P Haha I love poetry IE my profile name =P

 

[BroadwayMaybe]

Good one...

Really builds up and has this sonnet like style of turining volta! (I know that last thing I said is somehow tautologous, but who cares!)

But to make a long story short, I like it.

Thank you, Chuckle! This was one of my first sonnets. And now I feel happy that I wrote it