In Hamlet’s famed soliloquy,
“To be or” (maybe) “not to be,”
He questions life – is taking breath
A better deal than choosing death?

Another quote, among a slew,
Is this: “To thine own self be true,”
A brilliant and perceptive thought
Which few obey, though most are taught.

“We are such stuff as dreams are made on”
Actors cry on stages played on,
Which refers to both the play
And also to our lives each day.

Some Shakespeare gems to celebrate
His birthday, which was on this date.
Though some believe that’s all a sham,
I don’t! Am I a fan? Iamb!

Nestled 'neath an overpass
A homeless guy camps out.
I pass his tent each morning
On my exercising route.

He has a lovely river view
And has no rent to pay,
Although it isn't quite the place
Where I would like to stay.

I rarely see him, but today,
Unfortunate for me,
I caught him as he emptied out
His half-full jug of ***.

If ever you are tempted
To enjoy a river swim,
Heed my advice and find
Another venue for your whim.

This river's reputation
(Not a great one) stays intact
With this daily contribution
From a urinary tract!

You’re teaching a class
And in someone barges.
You want to protect
Both yourself and your charges.

So what do you do?
Grab your bucket of stones
And soon the intruder’s
A bucket of bones.

Your students can help
If they each grab a rock,
Assuming they aren’t
Immobile with shock.

Just think how effective
Such tactics can be!
We all can join in
On a stone-throwing spree!

Of course, if the trespasser’s
Wielding a gun,
The pupils (and you)
Might be tempted to run.

For certainly studies
(Most likely) have shown
A bullet’s more lethal
Than any thrown-stone.

And let’s not forget
There’s a lot here at stake.
An innocent guest
Could be ****** by mistake.

This foolish idea
A school district condoned.
Makes me wonder if they
Were in other ways ******.

Sometimes an image just sticks in your mind;
Try as you might you can’t leave it behind.
One I’ll relate didn’t happen to me
But hearing about it sufficed, as you’ll see.

A colleague of mine who had students in need
Sometimes paid a home visit to get up to speed,
For meeting the parents at home would provide
Information that they might be tempted to hide.

On one such occasion, who came to the door
Was the mother, whom he’d not encountered before.
She loomed there, obese, very much in command,
With a full stick of butter she clutched in her hand.

“Come in,” she insisted, and seemed quite at ease
Though what happened next near brought my friend to his knees.
It wasn’t the home’s disrepair, but the sight
Of that mom with her butter stick, taking a bite.

Whatever he thought of the mom and her kid
Doesn’t matter today, but I’ll never be rid
Of that image – the mother, the butter, the chew
And I’ll bet now that picture will stick with you, too.

While waiting for my MRI
And nervous, I will not deny,
The techies then guessed
That a music request
Might calm me, so I did comply.

I naturally chose rock & roll
Since being absorbed was my goal.
With my eyes tightly closed
All the words, I supposed,
Would keep butterflies under control.

So the clanging began, as it must
But the music helped, as we’d discussed
Though the very first song
Made my panic prolong –
Queen’s “Another One (me!) Bites the Dust.”

Some folks follow all the rules;
Others like to bend 'em,
Feeling like it's only fools
Who staunchly would defend 'em.

Which way that you lean begins
When you're just out of diapers.
Followers fear that their sins
Will make them pay the pipers.

Benders, though, might get a rush
From tempting fate and winning,
Even if they have a brush
With blame at the beginning.

We each know where we belong
When rules are in our faces
And since we all hate being wrong,
We never will change places.

At Newark Airport, Christie* tried
A quicker way to get inside,
Expecting they would let him slide;
Alas, though, entrance was denied.

The V.I.P. line he’d once used,
When cockiness from him just oozed,
Was blocked by police, but Christie mused
That he was just a bit confused.

For when the “mighty” tumble from
The lofty place from which they’ve come,
To our derision they succumb;
And sympathy? Not one small crumb.

*the former governor of New Jersey