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I'm a poet
and I know it
you wouldn't know it
cause you ain't no poet
you think you're a poet
well there's a big secret and you don't know it
there's one big secret and you need to know it
in order for you to be a poet
that secret is to rhyme and now you know it

Oh, cheerio it!
I just gave away the secret to being a poet!
I ain't supposed to show it
My crew ain't supposed to know it

I'm also a docder, in case you didn't know it
You break your arm, come over here and show it
If your head falls off, no one will know it

Yeah, that's right, I'm a docder and a poet
If you don't think that can happen, look at Dr. Dre, you oet
So don't give me any complaints, just stow it
so no one else will know it.

Every line in this poem rhymes
Wait, that one doesn't!
Neither does that one!
Neither does that one!
Neither does that one!
Neither does that one!
Neither does that one!
Neither does that one!
Neither does that one!
Neither does that one!
Neither does that one!
Neither does that one!
Neither does that one!
Neither does that one!
Neither does that one!
Neither does that one!
Neither does that one!
Neither does that one!
Neither does that one!
Neither does that one!
Neither does that one!
Neither does that one!
Neither does that one!
Neither does that one!
Neither does that one!
Neither does that one!
Neither does that one!
Neither does that one!
Neither does that one!
Neither does that one!
Neither does that one!
Neither does that one!
I have betrayed my poet heritage!
How could I have done such an evil thing?!
I must now silently, honorably and courageously commit suicide
By flying a plane loaded with nukes right into an abortion clinic
tricia lambert Jan 2013
Where does  the smoke go
                                                                when it’s done drifting ?
Where does the music go
                                                                when it’s been played ?
Where does the wind go
                                                                when the storm quietens ?
Where does the scent go
                                                                when petals fade?


Where does the taste go
                                                                when food is swallowed ?
Where does the peal go
                                                                when bells have been rung ?
Where does the moonlight go
                                                                when the sun rises ?
Where does the song go
                                                                when it’s been sung?


Where does the rainbow go
                                                                 when you stop staring ?
Where does the morning star go
                                                                 when it’s night ?
Where does the colour go
                                                                 when the night’s fallen ?
Where does the darkness go
                                                                 when the sky’s bright?





Where does the lust go
                                                                 when it’s been sated?
Where does the youth go
                                                                 when folk grow old?
Where does the wave go
                                                                 when ocean levels ?
Where does the story go
                                                                 when it’s been told?


Where does the memory go
                                                                 when it’s forgotten?
Where does the prayer go
                                                                 when it’s been said?
Where does the love go
                                                                 when it’s rejected?
Where does the spirit go
                                                                 when it’s not fed?


Where does the thirst go
                                                                 when it’s been quench-ed ?
Where does the silence go        
                                                                 when  the talk starts?
Where does the footprint go
                                                                  when wind’s passed over?
Where does the life go
                                                                  when soul departs?




Where does the truth go
                                                                 when lies are accepted ?
Where does  the vow go          
                                                                 when marriage is dead?
Where does the thought go
                                                                 when it’s not written ?
Where does the poem go
                                                                 when it’s not read ?



Trish Lambert
2010
Nicole stely  Apr 2018
Ice
Nicole stely Apr 2018
Ice
Because I could not draft for Ice,
it did kindly draft for me.
Does the Ice make you shiver?
does it?

Pay attention to the chill,
the chill is the most shivering fear of all.
Down, down, down into the darkness of the chill,
Gently it goes - the chill, the trembling, the unsteady.

A thawing, however hard it tries,
Will always be Melting.
Does the thawing make you shiver?
does it?

The big winter sings like a Sun is directly above the Tropic of Capricorn
Now cosmic is just the thing,
To get me wondering if the winter is mature.

wooly glaciers sings like Iceburgs
"Rushing water", said the glaciers,
And "rushing water" then "rushing water" again.

How happy is the frozen popsicle!
Does the popsicle make you shiver?
does it?

The freezing that's really crystals,
Above all others is the frost.
Does the frost make you shiver?
does it?

Because I could not draft for Ice,
it did kindly draft for me.
Does the Ice make you shiver?
does it?

Because I could not draft for Ice,
it did kindly draft for me.
Ice, Ice, every where,
Yet not a drop to draft.

How happy is the cold surface!
Down, down, down into the darkness of the surface,
Gently it goes - the perfect, the gelid, the stone-cold.

Pay attention to the floe,
the floe is the most Dence ice mass of all.
Floe, floe, every where,
Yet not a drop to drift.

The thawing is like a gentle voice,
it tends to cause significantly.
Does the thawing make you shiver?
does it?

The athletic game that's really zany,
Above all others is the hockey.
Pause to assist, like the hockey does.
It does assist, it does draft,
Should it also induct?

Why would you think the snowfall is gradual?
the snowfall is the most sudden downfall of all.
Pause to last, like the snowfall does.
It does last, it does accumulate,
Should it also range?

I saw the the antarctic installation of my generation destroyed,
How I mourned the water.
I don't like the fact that it,
learned to reside before it knew how to flow.
You can reside, you can flow, but can you supply?

Because I could not draft for Ice,
it did kindly draft for me.
Does the Ice make you shiver?
does it?

Because I could not draft for Ice,
it did kindly draft for me.
Pause to draft, like the Ice does.

Don't belive that the snowfall is small?
the snowfall is big beyond belief.
Never forget the braggy and large-scale snowfall.

Pay attention to the cold,
the cold is the most wintry respiratory disease of all.
Are you upset by how springlike it is?
Does it tear you apart to see the cold so frozen?

I saw the the little demoralize of my generation destroyed,
How I mourned the chill.
Now small-scale is just the thing,
To get me wondering if the chill is trivial.

An iceman, however hard it tries,
Will always be cunning.
Are you upset by how adroit it is?
Does it tear you apart to see the iceman so attractive?

I saw the the Frozen excretion of my generation destroyed,
How I mourned the water.
Never forget the sleety and unchangeable water.

Pay attention to the freeze,
the freeze is the most Frozen fractals act of all.
Does the freeze make you shiver?
does it?

Because I could not draft for Ice,
they did kindly draft for me.
Do Ice make you shiver?
do they?
Aries  Aug 2017
Do I matter?
Aries Aug 2017
Does it matter if I'm included in your circle of friends?
Does it matter if I walk on the same hallways?
Does it matter if I am part of a group activity?
Does it matter if I inhale the same air?

Does it matter if  I breathe?
Does it matter if I wake up?
Does it matter if I eat?
Does it matter at all if I exist?

Does it matter if we share the same sun?
Does it matter if I am with the same universe?
Does it matter if I get wet of the rain?
Does it matter if I die?

Does it matter if we ride similar transit?
Does it matter if we go the same direction?
Does it matter if I talk to you?
Does it matter if I walk with you?

Does  it matter if I am your child?
Does it matter that I am your sibling?
Does it matter if I am your grandchild?
Does it matter if we have the same blood?

Does it matter if I'm lonely or happy?
Does it matter if I embrace who truly I am?
Does it matter if I turn to you?






Does it make a difference if I'm gone?







Because honestly,
I wish it does.
Because I wish someone would say, "You matter"
Because I wish that someone would comfort me.
Because I wish someone would truly sees through me
Because I wish someone would understand.





Before the darkness claims me.
Before everything is over.
Taylor Roberts Apr 2016
Does he take care of you?
Does he ever make you feel like you want to go home?
Does he undress you on the page?
Does he undress you in the black of an empty room?
Does his kiss make you overdose at night?
Does he make you feel high even when you're dying to be sober again?
When he puts his fingers to your lips, does it make want more of him before he goes?
Does the need for his lips make you put out the cig that's always been bad for your health?
Does he make you feel full even aftter your parents split and you've felt empty since?
Does he make you feel like you can talk about you parents?
Does he calm your neurosis, even when you can't stop organizing your house and degrading your own body?
Does he talk about each part of your body as if each piece is their own Frida painting?
Does he say how beautiful your mocha colored birth mark on the lower part of your neck is?
Does he know how much you hate your mocha colored birth mark on the lower part of your neck?
Does he know how much you can't stand being up before 2 pm on at day of the week?
Does he know how much you wanted to **** yourself in 2012?
Does he know that was the year your parents started resenting each other and you blamed it on your never being home?

Does he know about me?
Does he know about how much I call you at 3 am?
Does he know I still love you?
Does he know you used to love me?
Does he know I know everything about you?
Does he know I know nothing about you?

I know nothing about you.
One of my favorite poems I've recently written.
ohNoe  May 2014
Imaginary Diary
ohNoe May 2014
Imaginary Diary

Wed, Oct 5, 2011

Back from the worst roadtrip of my entire life.  And an era ends as I sit ALL ALONE in this big empty house.  At least it isn't raining, so I can go in the backyard and build a big fire to cry in front of...


Here Be Me

out fades the fire, no longer reaching higher, merely old and tired, moved on from trying to crying, an era ends, and how to begin again?

yet death has not yet stolen the last breath, hope and prayers still befriend the living, and everyday miracles may still find the giving...


alone is a strange energy
almost alien to me
although it didn't used to be

lone wolf howls again?
prowls again?

kaleidoscope of feelings,
how to make meaning?

I like Me as much or more
than ever before
and I no longer keep score

lone wolf howls again?
prowls again?

hurt but not quite reeling,
what's the meaning?
can I manage the damage?

I scream
You scream
We All scream
for Ice Cream
but that does not balance the beam
does not quite Amen the dream.

And now my life changes again
rearranges yet again
Lone Wolf?


Thurs, Oct 6, 2011

"I mourn not moving into another decade, but at the end I've been betrayed, not good enough, not enough stuff, not the right house in the right city. given everything I could, done anything I can, but not trusted, accused of acts I did not commit, abandoned and alone again, except for the responsibilities, and bills, and animals, and an empty house full of stuff, and memories of what was supposed to be" -- miscellaneous anonymous old divorced dude


Have you ever noticed how close onesome is to lonesome and that together rhymes with forever?



Fri, Oct 7, 2011

Heart Broken yet again,
  far from the 1st time...
I know what to do
  & kinda how to do it,
    I guess...


****, this is going to take some serious time!!!!
(can I manage the damage)


How far is far enough?
How future is future enough?

head hanging down
  as does the soul inside
face fallen in a frown
  as the heart's tears are cried

looking & leaning above the abyss
  living the loss that leaves less
refusing not to feel this
  there shall be no numbness

hurt too many times
  to soothe with mere rhymes
but healing always happens
  hope never dies a final death
(I can manage the damage)


How far is far enough?
How future is future enough?

Once or so upon sometime
  boy met girl
    and his world went whirl.
Stars sent sparkles through the smog,
  moonlight went right through the fog.

And they asked Clint,
  what's so different?
And his simple silly smile said,
  are you really so numb dumb in the head?

Are you really only able to see
  the fine firm exquisite curves outside
and not the even more amazing beauty
  singly sweetly from the soul inside?

Just look closely
  into gorgeous intensity
    get swept into a deep brown sea
      and wonder at the world she sees!

And when you linger longingly on those luscious lips,
  don't just wish for a tender hot kiss.
Want the soft breath-touch of her spirit,
  and the words within which you'll hear it!

They may not realize what I see,
  but those eyes have looked at me.
And I sit in the dark and wonder,
  could my spark ever touch her?


When can it be Then again?

Because if a guy is extraordinarily lucky, every decade or two he might meet someone as amazing as you.  And if he has the chance to become more than friends, he HAS to try to make that reality.  If not, he HAS to know you in whatever way possible, as deeply as possible, to enrich his Life & Soul!


Flirting

Emotions mixing like potions
Imaginings made more potent
Did you see her?  She looked at me!  A lot!  We smiled with our eyes and our lips and our words and it was real!  It may have meant more to me than it did to her, but it was still real!


Somewhen

Wonderings About A Wonderful Woman

Dipping a heart in the Rush
     of the early life of a Crush.
Past the point when you'd just met
     & maybe not even spoken yet.

It's after you know there's something about her
     that's at the awesome end of special.
When you want to know all about her,
  learn the glow within the sparkle!

You find yourself wanting way less waiting
     between the moments you get to see her
and you're always antsy anticipating
     the next time you're able to talk to her.

You hope for her Happy
     and pray to be a part of it,
       an important part!

You ache to ask her for a date
  and hear her say okay, great!
You wish that that beginning
  turns into every evening
until oh so soon
  on an unknown afternoon
you both find you're destined
  to be much more than friends!

And inbetween the start and that part
  as you learn to hear each others' heart
there are a millionish questions about her
  you can't wait for time to answer...


Does she like mexican food?
  and sushi too?
Will she gag if you call her dude?
Has she ever done Mongolian BBQ?

Has she ever searched for seashells
  between the incoming swells?
Does she like getting flowers?
  What's her favorite flower?!

Does she like skating
           swimming
          whistling
           hiking?

Does she have brothers?
sisters?
younger?
  older?

Has she ever fallen on her **** in an ice rink?
  or played in the snow til your fingers can't think?

Does she love road trips
  for the destination
    and all you may learn/see
      along the journey?

Where has she travelled?
Where does she want to travel?

Does she like sharing dreams
  the moment you awaken?
When it still seems
  they really did happen?
                        
What animals does she love?

Mittens or gloves?

Does she love hugs?
  LONG hugs?!

Is she ready for me to want to stare at her
  (mmmmm, have you seen her?)
And does she know how
  to keep hearing “WOW”?

Does she like reading poetry?
  especially when it's about her / inspired by her

Will we share the joys and traumas
  the sillys and dramas
    that have made us us?


Will she excitedly show
  all of her old photos?

Does she believe in GOD
  and ghosts
  and eternal souls
  and True Love?

Has she ever prayed for me?
Does she know I've prayed for her?

Will we show not just our strengths
  but also our weaknesses?
Tell our awes
  and our flaws?
Share our laughs
  and our tears?
Whisper our hopes
  and our fears?
Even though it allows the other to truly see
  and brings tender vulnerability?

Will she let me provide what help I can
  for not only wants, but also needs
can she depend on this man
  for not only wants, but also needs
can she accept every effort from Clint
  and still know she's independent?


Does she like:

  --cuddling huddling together beside the fire, wrapped beneath the same blanket, holding hands, somtimes speaking softly about memories, hopes, fears, desires, sometimes simply staring at the spastic random wild dancing of the flames while listening to the crackles & pops & the night sounds from just beyond the circle of light?

  --a lazy afternoon on a summer beach, toes digging in the hot sand, breeze blowing sunshine across the skin, waves waiting to be watched and frolicked in?

  --being at the beach on a damp winter's day, sitting on a lifeguard tower just out of the reach of the rain, sometimes wondering at the miracle of the wild waves, dark and frothy, whipped by the wind to lunge upon the shore and race towards the tower only to tire and recede once more into the tide. Sometimes basking in the heat of each others' hands, eyes, lips & kiss, flying in the feeling?

  --walking along the beach in the moonlight of a still-warm summer's eve, holding hands as we wade in the waves, toes tingly with the spritz of the sparkling water?

  --watching a sunrise fill the skies of a desert dawn?
  --watching the sun set as it dives from the clouds, drops behind the mountaintop?

  --camping in the mountains, or by a lake, miles and miles from the encompassing glare of the city lights, within our private tent at midnight, comfy cozy cuddled close within 2 sleeping bags zipped into  1, marvelling at the stars spread out above the mesh ceiling?

  --walking hand-in-hand in a light rain laughing at the secret which only we know, that this cool warm drizzle, this tingle-mingle mist is the perfect place to kiss?

  --Las Vegas after dark?
  --reading to each other in the park?
  
  --short romantic messages?
  --exchanging random massages?

  --live comedy?
  --movie matinees?

  -- what's her favorite type of TV?
          comedy/drama/reality?
          food/cartoons/nature documentary?

  --a comfy couch where we fall sleep curled together with a shared blanket and maybe even some spilled popcorn?

  --disneyland?

  --silly errands at 1am?

  --talking through the night until the dawn?

  --sharing a shower, the water cascading across her unbelievable beauty, caressing every curve, glistening on her sweet sensuous skin and driving me deliciously delirious with desire?


What is her favorite color?
What is her favorite thing about her?

Who is her oldest friend?
            her best friend?

If she had one wish, totally selfish, just for herself -- what would it be?

Fuzzy PJ's or naked under a soft warm blanket?

Would she dance with me at home
  just the two of us
where we can be dorky
  or not good
    and just have fun?


Does she realize the HER of her eyes
           her smile
           her glow
           her lips
  the dreams of her fingertips?

Does she know that as impossibly amazing as it may seem
  my instincts sing to me
  that she's even more beautiful on the inside
  than she is on the outside?
  And have you SEEN her outside????

Would she want to hear me say
  you're sweet smart funny beautiful and hot, mmmmmmm  HOT
    and you will find True Love & Happyness
      because You Deserve It!

Does she want someone to want her
  emotionally spiritually physically?
Does she want them to wonder what she wants
  discover her innermost inner?
Want them to desire her joy
  so she can be joyous?
Does she want them to want to kiss her all over,
  caress her everywhere,
  squeeze her perfect *** with ultimate passion,
  dream of her arms and awesome legs around them,
  her bare ******* pressed against their chest,
  sing themselves to sleep with images of her lips,
  and imaginings of her sweet sweet kiss?
  

And maybe if we're lucky
  or meant to be
Somewhere in there
  “like” blossoms
    becomes Love!
10 year marriage, last year of which she accused me constantly of betrayal I never could or would have perpetrated. This is my trying to look forward with hope....
Ryan Fiore  Aug 2016
Does He?
Ryan Fiore Aug 2016
Does he kiss you before you leave every morning?
Does he make you breakfast just for the hell of it?
Does he rub your back when you've had a long day?
Does he play with your hair instead of your heart like most guys do?
Does he be a goofball with you like I am?
Does he take you in like a morning cup of coffee every time he feels your embrace?
Does he hold you when you cry and kiss you to make you feel better like I would?
Does he ever cry in front of you and show his sensitivity?
Does he know what he has and doesn't take you for granted?
Does he hold you close like a good man should?
Does he tell you he loves you every chance he gets?
Does he make you smile like I do?
Does every love song he hears make him think of you?
Does he let you lay your head on his chest?
Does he ever pour his heart out to you because your love is so overwhelming?
Does he dance with you like I wish I could?
Does he make love to you passionately like we could?

Does he tell you that you're beautiful every single day?

Does he love you like I love you?

Well, tell me

does he?



Good that LOVE is not life
Good that LOVE is not work
Good that LOVE is not a marriage
Good that LOVE is not an agreement
Good that LOVE is not a signed contract
Good that LOVE is not a Terms of reference
Good that LOVE is not a Job description
Good that LOVE is not an Annual plan
Good that LOVE does not have a budget
Good that LOVE does not have to give account of expenses
Good that LOVE does not have targets
Good that LOVE does not come under HR rules
Good that LOVE does not come under LEGAL laws
Good that LOVE does not follow rules, regulations
Good that LOVE does not care for moral, ethics
Good that LOVE does not get awards, trophies,
Good that LOVE does not get citations, certificates
Good that LOVE does not get applause, fame
Good that LOVE is not a post or position
Good that LOVE does not care of hierarchy
Good that LOVE is not about status and power
Good that LOVE does not fetch you friends
Good that LOVE is not a job or business
Good that LOVE is not about 9 to 5 job
Good that LOVE does not expect meetings, conferences
Good that LOVE does not expect workshops symposiums
Good that LOVE does not make you pretentious
Good that for LOVE one has to wear a fake mask
Good that LOVE does not let you follow any ideology
Good that LOVE is not reimbursed by salary, wage
Good that LOVE is not paid for your work done
Good that LOVE is not found on Internet, social media
Good that LOVE does not bother about likes, dislikes
Good that LOVE does not exist on laptop and mobiles
Good that LOVE is unlike any other relationship
Good that LOVE is not restricted to family & friends
Good that LOVE is not about learning, knowledge
Good that LOVE is not about literacy and education
Good that LOVE does not care for wealth and riches
Good that LOVE is not about decisions and making choice
Good that LOVE does not believe in religions, God/dess
Good that LOVE does not suffer from phobias & neurosis
Good that LOVE does not hide behind ideologies & doctrines
Good that LOVE is liberal and progressive
Good that LOVE is a rebellion against everything
Good that LOVE is the one that kills EGO "I"
Good that LOVE is.... "LOVE"...!




Who, or why, or which, or what, Is the Akond of SWAT?

Is he tall or short, or dark or fair?
Does he sit on a stool or a sofa or a chair,
                or SQUAT,
        The Akond of Swat?

Is he wise or foolish, young or old?
Does he drink his soup and his coffee cold,
                or HOT,
        The Akond of Swat?

Does he sing or whistle, jabber or talk,
And when riding abroad does he gallop or walk
                or TROT,
        The Akond of Swat?

Does he wear a turban, a fez, or a hat?
Does he sleep on a mattress, a bed, or a mat,
                or COT,
        The Akond of Swat?

When he writes a copy in round-hand size,
Does he cross his T's and finish his I's
                with a DOT,
        The Akond of Swat?

Can he write a letter concisely clear
Without a speck or a smudge or smear
                or BLOT,
        The Akond of Swat?

Do his people like him extremely well?
Or do they, whenever they can, rebel,
                or PLOT,
        At the Akond of Swat?

If he catches them then, either old or young,
Does he have them chopped in pieces or hung,
                or SHOT,
        The Akond of Swat?

Do his people **** in the lanes or park?
Or even at times, when days are dark,
                GAROTTE,
        The Akond of Swat?

Does he study the wants of his own dominion?
Or doesn't he care for public opinion
                a JOT,
        The Akond of Swat?

To amuse his mind do his people show him
Pictures, or any one's last new poem,
                or WHAT,
        For the Akond of Swat?

At night if he suddenly screams and wakes,
Do they bring him only a few small cakes,
                or a LOT,
        For the Akond of Swat?

Does he live on turnips, tea, or tripe?
Does he like his shawl to be marked with a stripe,
                or a DOT,
        The Akond of Swat?

Does he like to lie on his back in a boat
Like the lady who lived in that isle remote,
                SHALLOTT,
        The Akond of Swat?

Is he quiet, or always making a fuss?
Is his steward a Swiss or a Swede or Russ,
                or a SCOT,
        The Akond of Swat?

Does like to sit by the calm blue wave?
Or to sleep and snore in a dark green cave,
                or a GROTT,
        The Akond of Swat?

Does he drink small beer from a silver jug?
Or a bowl? or a glass? or a cup? or a mug?
                or a ***,
        The Akond of Swat?

Does he beat his wife with a gold-topped pipe,
When she let the gooseberries grow too ripe,
                or ROT,
        The Akond of Swat?

Does he wear a white tie when he dines with friends,
And tie it neat in a bow with ends,
                or a KNOT.
        The Akond of Swat?

Does he like new cream, and hate mince-pies?
When he looks at the sun does he wink his eyes,
                or NOT,
        The Akond of Swat?

Does he teach his subjects to roast and bake?
Does he sail about on an inland lake
                in a YACHT,
        The Akond of Swat?

Some one, or nobody, knows I wot
Who or which or why or what
        Is the Akond of Swat?
Jay M Wong Feb 2013
1:1
Stop. Who’s there? Tis clock strikes twelve,
brings thy Horatio to seek tis specter from hell,
In Denmark, something is rotting in thy state,
In Norway, unimprovèd mettle hot and full awaits,
Tis specter arrives to arouse confusion and fear,
but to treat it violence and majestic threat,
thy specter departs as the ****’s crow drew near,  
leaving the blows of malicious mockery to regret.
And for Hamlet may speak to the wandering soul,
Tis morning to Hamlet must the three a’go.

1:2
Claudius, thy Uncle, is crowned King a’last,
Gertrude, thy Mother, hastily marries a’fast.
With duties done, Laertes to France adieu,
Hamlet griefs thy Father’s death and thy Mother’s dine,
for once a Hyperion to now a satyr is Uncle to Father a’new,
is but now a little more than kin and less than kind.
Horatio brings poor Hamlet the fatherly news,
that King Hamlet’s specter is now a’loose.
The joyous Hamlet is but joyous to see,
the two month father, dead and decease,
but for he calls that foul deeds will foully arise.
He hurries to the heavenly site prior sunrise.

1:3
Laertes to Ophelia, a brother to sister, he warns,
that Hamlet is but a fiery lover and to love he sworn,
but to love now is but not the future,
for Hamlet’s fire may, thy mind unpure,
for his lovely vows are not to believe,
he is but a man of deception to conceive.
For when Laertes departs, Polonius rants,
that Hamlet’s love, Ophelia must recant
for his affections and fashions are but false wows,
for when blood burns, lends the tongue false vows.

1:4
Shrewdly the air bites, nipping and eager,
at Horatio and Hamlet thy specter nears.
To speak alone, it beckons so,
But Horatio to Hamlet speaks no,
for may it draw thy madness and strip thy reason,
but to thee specter does Hamlet go,
for thy life is but a’lacking living reason.
Aback do they hold him most,
but Hamlet, his sword he wields
Fate has brought him here, he feels
To hold him back is but to turn a’ghost

1:5
Revenge, does his heavenly father speak,
of tis horrid ****** of unnatural feat.
For the orchard’s snake, wears thy father’s crown
and ****** thy gracious Queen, whose now evil abound.
With dignity and devotion she loved me so,
but tis sinful ******, Hamlet, you must’a know!
Through my ears, a venomous potion he drew,
thy fair Uncle, Claudius that potion he brew.
Abed, my life he ended this night,
And to my crown and Queen took he a’flight.
For thy dearest father, revenge must thy draw
upon thy villainous head, Claudius must fall
And to thy sword thou dearest friends must swear,
to tell not the occasions of this night we bear,
And to madness Hamlet must falsely seek,
to discover the truth of horrid deed beneath.

2:1
Reynaldo to Laertes, Claudius a’spies,
to Paris, Reynaldo goes with a’plan devised,
to seek the situation of Laertes in foreign hoods,
with bait of falsehood takes this carp of truth.
Ophelia then enters, with her father she shares,
"Oh, father, father, I’ve just had such a scare!"
In her sewing room, it is Hamlet she sees,
with no hat, nor buttons, nor stable knees
For he stared and stared to let out a final sigh,
Love mad he may be, a’to King we must a’by.

2:2
With Rosencrantz and Guildenstern,
Directly or indirectly will Claudius learn,
of Hamlet’s matters they are to return.
Polonius, with news of Hamlet, he waits,
for thee Ambassador, to inform that Denmark Gates,
Are to be opened for young Fortinbra’s ****** defeat,
Polonius to Claudius, reveals thy madness roots,
For Hamlet is but love crazy for the fairest fruits,
of dearest Ophelia, who a letter he wrote,
Proclaims the fairness of her upon tis note.
And to test the truth, their confrontation, must’e spy,
Behind the arras to view thy love-mad side.
Is but our hastily marriage and his father’s death,
thy Mother, aware, are but the means of his mad breath.
Polonius then to Hamlet, speaks of witty words,
A fishmonger he calls, but one of two is misheard,
For when Polonius humbly takes a’leave,
He is but to take anything, but his life, shall he not receive.
Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, enter to Hamlet, they chat,
but Hamlet to quickly find the two are but a King’s ****,
Only sent to spy on a dearest friend,
And to human’s name do they offend,
Only to betray a dearest friend in honor of the King.
And so Players arrived at Denmark grounds,
for they, the best in the world, Polonius sounds.
And then for Jephthah, witty Hamlet chants,
the song of a foolish man who accidently grants,
the sacrifice of his beloved daughter.
Pyrrhus, do they perform for dearest Hamlet,
His sword is a’air, but a’air it sets,
for he hesitates to swing thy sword,
And with this, Hamlet hopes to store,
the strength to **** the horrid Lord.
Though he is but ashamed, for upon false emotions can Players act,
And in himself upon truths, strength can he not extract.
So a play for the King’s conscience does Hamlet devise,
for the heavenly ghost may be false in his advice.

3:1
To be or not to be; that is the question,
For Hamlet to be nobler or to a’take action,
Shall he withdraw with ****** self slaughter,
But shall’st never may see thy fairest daughter,
To die, but to sleep for a mere dream,
But in sleep shall fair or foul be unseen?
Now Polonius and Claudius awaits,
for Hamlet’s arranged meet with a’bait.
Hamlet to Ophelia, his love recants,
For honesty and beauty are but Someone’s grants,
Once did he love her, but now a’figured,
that women are but corrupt and impured,
For one’s honestly and beauty can and shall be taint,
For if God given thou one face, dear not another by paint.
For honestly and beauty has God falsely bred,
All but one, shall women *****.
All but one, shall women be nun.
Hence this marriage is over, and to a nunnery at once,

3:2
Let this mousetrap be named and this play a’set,
Shall capture thy horrid mouse or thy Uncle of Hamlet.
Polonius to Hamlet, the theater he knows,
For a Caesar death died he at thee Capitol.
Upon the lap of fair Ophelia, does Hamlet, lie,
Only to think of country matters and nothing (he implies).
And the play begins, with a prologue so brief,
Like a woman’s love, was Hamlet’s belief.
The King and Queen, a loving bond they share,
But the King by a mystic potion envenomed beware.
Thee action to ****, a murderous scene it was,
Leaving Claudius to regret the murderous act abuzz,
He arises to say: Let there be light! Let there be light!
And to the joy of Hamlet to see tis joyous sight,
For the words of thy heavenly father was but right.
Now shall the minute parts of truth ignite.
And to his Mother he shall speak daggers wield none,
for shall his tongue speak of the cruelties undone.

3:3
With Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, to England a’go,
Should insane Hamlet know not a hawk from a crow,
And behind the arras, Polonius will again spy,
the taxation of Hamlet and his Mother’s cry.
Polonius departs to spy upon the Mother and the Insane,
Only to leave Claudius to regret thy hideous Mark of Cain,
Shall he pray the Heavens to forgive him his actions,
For thy stripped thy Brother of life, throne, and attractions.
As Claudius is never to withdraw his stripped token,
Divine forgiveness shall never then be unspoken.
Hamlet can **** not his murderous Uncle in praying stance,
For a hideous monster shall not a’go Heaven by chance.

3:4
So behind the arras dearest Polonius stays,
to view the idle and wicked tongue arrays,
Thou’st the Queen, Thy Husband’s Brother’s wife!
But to hear a rat, shall Hamlet for a ducat its life.
Oh, but death ‘neath the arras, may it the King?
A horrid act? To **** and wear thy brother’s ring?
Oh, King it be not, but be a wretched, rash fool,
And now shall Hamlet tell thy Myth a’Ghoul.
For thy murderer has slain thy Heavenly mate,
And only now by natural law does he abate.
Upon these portraits shall ring a’clear,
That from thy Heavenly father is he nowhere near,
A murderer, a villain, a horrid fiend,
He is but a devilish murderer yield unclean,
No way can one drop from THIS to THAT,
And shall by this scene, the specterous soul attract,
Dear not be untenderly to thy Mother it speaks,
And shall this revenge soon awake its peak,
Hamlet appears a’mad to thy watching Mother,
but to his mother he warns, abed not another,
For two mouths should speak of none,
of this revenge that will soon be done.
And again, abed let not him ****** you so,
For now, apart to English must’e a’go.

4:1
Gertrude to Claudius, she continues to reveal,
Of Polonius’s ****** and his arras squeal,
"A rat! A rat!" A’mad Hamlet is,
Brandished, to rapier the life of his.
And now where’s thou Hamlet still?
To draw apart the body he hath killed.
Rosencrantz and Guildenstern is but yet called again,
With discord and dismay, are they to seek that thou slain.

4:2
The two seek to Hamlet, for the body’s lair,
Compounded with dust now does it wear,
And a sponge, does Hamlet call them so,
for the King to squeeze them dry and thorough,
"A knavish speech sleeps in a foolish ear."
The body a’by a’King, but a’King, the body unnear.
And so, Hamlet to the King premiere.

4:3
And to Claudius does Hamlet call,
That Polonius now rests at a dining hall,
‘til a conference of worms devours him all
He shall eat not, but they eat so,
‘tis our fate despite status quo.
And upon the lobby stairs a corpse may lay,
One of dearest Polonius, slain to heaven or hell
Now to English death must Hamlet pay,
To one mother does he give two farewells.

4:4
With a Captain does Hamlet now proceed,
Who tells of young Fortinbras of Norway accede,
The Norway prince through Denmark he leads,
to seize a’minute ****** patch must’e receive.
A worthless land, must many die for one,
But true greatness acts not from fair reason,
But for the sake of the mind when honor is won.
And has Someone granted the reasoning mind,
For man to hesitate so cowardly inside,
For thy deed to act, must we rid the mind bind,
And act on instinct and be not wise.
And from the reasoning state must Hamlet now leave,
for honor he shall act, and his emotions he’ll believe.

4:5
False sanity is but false no more,
For fair Ophelia’s reason be not restore.
A’now sings of thy premature stone a’foot thy father’s grave,
and the departure of Hamlet for thy wed depraved.
Claudius is but to blame for thee rotting state,
For Polonius, a proper ceremony he not awaits,
For poor Ophelia, stripped from her reasonous state,
For Laertes aback from France, by thy father’s death, irate.
And Laertes enters, with thy support for king,
For the murderer, vengeful death shall he bring,
So Claudius to Laertes, says he is not to blame,
but thy father’s murderer is but another name.
And enters Ophelia, with figurative flowers to give,
But those of Faithfulness have ceased to live.
Alive are but for Thoughts, for Remembrance,
for Adultery, for Repentance, and for False Romance.
For his sister’s sanity is but another to blame,
Laertes, a vengeance mind, is but now aflame.

4:6
Horatio, a letter from Hamlet he receives,
that upon a Pirate ship has Hamlet board,
And that shall with speed would’st fly a’breathe.
Meet to hear the story Hamlet has a’stored.

4:7
Claudius to Laertes, he speak of innocence,
for by public appearance, the truth may bent,
For the public count loves Hamlet so,
And to thy fair Mother, Claudius a’beau.
Thy noble father lost and sister insane,
The murderous filth of Hamlet is to blame.
At this, a loyal messenger approaches,
to deliver the news that but Hamlet reproached,
An English death did Hamlet face not,
For now his destined death are they to plot,
Naked and alone, will he return to Denmark a’learn,
Of the honorable fence-match, he shall earn,
Against Laertes, whose fatherly love nor illusion,
Shall the death of Hamlet draw conclusion.
Even a’church will Hamlet, Laertes slay,
Death by no bounds, must Hamlet pay.
Envenomed rapier and wine shall prepare,
the faithful death of murderous Hamlet a’near.
Gertrude then enters with Ophelia’s news a’share,
For sorrows comes not in singles but in greater pairs,
Upon muddy death has Ophelia drowned,
for now another death has but profound,

5:1
Two Gravediggers upon one grave they create,
for to the death of thy Graveowner do they relate,
To die by self slaughter or to die by not,
the attention of passing Hamlet have they caught.
With Hamlet does one of thee two chat,
for once a woman, shall this grave be buried at,
A quick digger for Hamlet to his surprise,
Revealed that to England is mad Hamlet to advise.
For a corpse to live for eight or nine,
Thy dearest Yorick’s skull is to find,
Thy a corpse to date three and twenty,
Leaves Hamlet to recall thy memories a’plenty,
And to think Alexander, o’buried alike.
Here comes the King, Laertes and the Queen,
And upon the burial grounds is Ophelia seen,
His dearest sister does Laertes mourn,
But to Hamlet, her death, his heart a’torn.
Laertes to Hamlet, must’e not compare,
the death of one is a little more foul than fair,
For forty thousand brothers can sum not his love,
For the death of the fairest maiden beloved.
Claudius to Laertes, must Hamlet pay thy debt,
the plot of night prior shall’st not forget.

5:2
Hamlet to Horatio, does his truths trust,
Of thy wretched King and his unjust,
Of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern English death they meet,
With sacrifice and thy seal was thou to spare self defeat.
Now’st Osric enters to Hamlet a’chat,
For’st not hot, nor cold, nor sultry at.
And a’wish to court, with thy Laertes of excellence,
For Hamlet’s head does thee King expense.
With six French rapiers and poniards assign,
For by fate’s determination, shall this court incline,
For a special providence in the fall of a sparrow,
Can we do not, but abide by fate a’follow.
Trumpets and drums, now’st the fence begins,
For Hamlet and Laertes hand and hand therein.
Pardon he begs, Hamlet to thy brother,
For in him is but foil Hamlet yet another,
And so they fence for honor and fence for life,
Two of two leads Hamlet the strife.
The King, to Hamlet he drinks,
Tis pearl shall he the cup he sinks,
And unwounded for two, Hamlet prevails,
But Queen, the dearest Mother, so faithfully frail,
For she drinks thy cup of heavenly pearl,
For heavenly it be not, as thy malicious plot unfurl,
The cup! The cup! A poisonous potion,
Cause yet another by venomous commotion.
A distracting cause, for Hamlet to bear,
For Laertes envenomed blade must’e beware,
Now envenomed blood shall Hamlet shed,
Shall he hold thy rapier of Laertes instead,
to shed thy venomous blood of thy venomous mind,
For now thy murderous plot shall unwind,
At the honorable death of brother Laertes,
Shall the death of Claudius be a’seized.
The King’s to blame for the death of all,
And tis day shall he see his destined fall.
With thy venomous blade held a’hand,
Let the doors be locked and the evils banned,
For Hamlet wounds thy treacherous soul,
And shall horrid Claudius pay his destined toll,
For Hamlet forces to drink thy murderous potion,
And shall he too die of venomous commotion.
The death of four and tis ****** scene,
Shall Horatio tell to those unseen.
Shall he speak of murderous truths embark,
for Fortinbras shall now throne Denmark,
For in Fortinbras does his admiration lay,
For does Hamlet trust thou’st fiery ambitious way,
And tis now concludes thy Hamlet’s life,
For death and death thou’st all alike...
A dedication and summary of Shakespeare's "Hamlet" the tragedy of the witty prince of Denmark written in 2011 for a class journal assignment.
Matilda Nov 13
All hallows-eve does she dance,
A nimble skip in her steps.
All hallows-eve does she dance,
Grace lighter than a thimble.
All hallows-eve does she dance,
A fairytale entwined by her alone.
All hallows-eve does she dance,
Her beauty far greater than the light shone.

I watch her constantly by hallows-eve
A beauty held by thee.
Thine eyes far more than the jewels of thieves,
A being deemed only for me.

 All hallows-eve does she dance,
A lost angel of the dawn.
All hallows-eve does she dance,
Her watcher constantly drawn.
All hallows-eve does she dance,
With sisters of threescore by her side.
All hallows-eve does she dance,
A daughter of evil, one of a kind.

She is no angel of heaven,
A beast that roams the earth,
With a lucky number of seven,
No holy is she to say the least.

All hallows-eve does she dance,
A beast that changes form.
All hallows-eve does she dance,
A feast meant for the eyes.
All hallows-eve does she dance,

My love for her never dying.
All hallows-eve does she dance,
A love made with lying.

I am a creature of the sea,
Thine caller and sinker of ships.
She is a beast of the land
Thou’s hands of blood at her lips.

All hallows-eve does she dance,
As light steals through.
All hallows-eve does she dance,
When morning light is due.
All hallows-eve does she dance,
By light does she return form.
All hallows-eve does she dance,
A newer different sight.

She has returned to the truth,
A beast of cruelty and sin,
With fur of golden sunshine youth,
A sad but noble thing.

All hallows-eve does she dance,
No longer does she dance.
All hallows-eve does she dance,
Her glorious stance done.
All hallows-eve does she dance,
Return once again to her true form.
All hallows-eve does she dance,
A beauty gone by dawn.
An old piece I wrote almost 10 years ago. It's actually the piece I'm the most proud of!

Critique away!
Alone in the workhouse. Is where she gave birth.
The starch Parish Surgeon. A Drunken old Nurse.
The cries of a boy child. In her arms did he lie.
Gently kissing his forehead. Before she did die.

Not to be married. Mentioned the Nurse.
Was not to be heard of. Almost a curse.
No Father to speak of. Illegitimate offspring.
His Mother a corpse. With no wedding ring.

Without relations. Brought up with force.
Grown as a captive. Poverties course.
Life in the workhouse. Juvenile offenders.
Selfish providers. Fat cat Pretenders.

"Mrs Mann", Overseer. An hierarchy lie.
Starves and abuses. Would let them all die.
Nine years of age. Each picking a straw.
The boy stumbles forward. Asking for more.

Gruel knocked aside. The fat man, Bumble.
Shocked and alarmed. Off top shelf does stumble.
Dragged by the scruff. Out in the snow.
Sowerberry’s undertakers is where he will go.

Childish look. Innocent way.
To walk at the head of the hearse, they will pay.
Treated unfair. Leading the dead.
Next to a coffin they position his bed.

Insecure Claypole. With nasty remark.
Temper unleashed. Thrown into the dark.
Overwhelming silence inviting a tear.
By morning, escape. Will leave this room clear.

Seventy mile trek. Things look so bleak.
In London he lands. Dejected and weak.
The first friendly face stands counting his loot.
All wide eyed and fresh. In whistle and flute.

"Jack Dawkins the name. But you call me Dodger.
Need somewhere to stay, cause I know this old Codger."
Old Fagin insists to offer him bread.
A warm place to live. A snug place to bed.

Next mornings instruction as Fagin explains.
We live by our wits. Rely on our brains.
Its not thieving we do. We take it by slight.
If they wanted to keep it, why leave it in sight?

Bet and Nancy drop by. For a drink they are glad.
Showing concern for this down trodden lad.
Oliver’s training goes on for days.
Each time he succeeds is allotted with praise.

The day that gave Oliver oh so much tension.
When he met the man he had heard no one mention.
Gruff, rough and evil, A man no one likes.
With Bulls-eye his dog. The man known as Sikes.

The day comes around, when Oliver goes out. With Charley and Dodger, their isn’t much doubt.
The two older boys get the items they sought. Though in all of the turmoil Oliver’s caught.

Brought before Fang, the court Magistrate. Innocent plea onto deaf ears migrate.
Last minute witness brings light forth to shine. On innocent captive in front of said shrine.
The message is out, the crooks are all fraught. Nancy is allotted to spy in the court.
The boy is acquitted. Nothing is told. Nancy relays that they haven’t been sold.
The kindly old victim shows pity on boy.A quiet misdemeanour, a look in his eye.
A child of worth, should not be alone. Mr Brownlow decides to take Oliver home.
For the first time in ever, contentment and love.Poured onto said urchin from those up above.
A picture looks down on this scene from the wall. Similarity so true, most evident for all.
But outside a danger does start to lament. The signs coming out from a previous event.
Sikes and his lady hide out in the shade. Waiting in patience for mistake to be made.
A simple small errand would easily portray. That Oliver Twist is not of bad way.
Mr Grimwig suggests that the boy should be bound. With a parcel of books and the sum of five pound.
Brownlow agrees but his friend will soon gloat. Of the loss of said books and the crisp five pound note.
Surely as hell the time is upon. When onto the streets the child is soon gone.
But Grimwig still boasts that the boy they did trust. Was simply a fraud and just earning a crust.
The kindly old man does have to agree. That Oliver Twist is about on a spree.
Held up and imprisoned by this awful pair. Terrified boy removed to old Fagin’s lair.
Bill Sikes decides that the boy needs a blow. Nancy steps in, she will not stoop so low.
Be satisfied Bill for you have ruined his life. Condemned the poor boy to an history of strife.
Is that not enough to cast onto him. He has been through the mill, now he’s out on a limb.
Brownlow decides to post a reward. For information on the loss of his young ward.
Bumble arrives for the five guinea toll. As he opens his mouth the lies they do roll.

Oliver is taken, carted away.
By Nancy and Bill to the place where they lay.
No notice is taken to the tears he will sob.
For Sikes plans to take the small boy on a job.

Shepperton town is the place they will go.

To silence the boy a gun he will show.
Darkness will produce where his sights are set on.
A quick in and out and with goods they’ll be gone.

Toby Crackit and Sikes are partners in Crime.
Through a small window will make the boy climb.
But plans all go wrong and they do not get a jot.
Although in the event the poor lad will be shot.

Old Bumble is called to the workhouse for wine.
With widowed matron intending to dine.
Things interrupted the matron must go.
To visit old Sally on deathbed below.

The dying old woman does make good a wrong.
As she pours out a death persons song.
She tells Mrs Corney about a gold locket.
That she in the past had decided to pocket.

Inside it gave clues to someone’s true worth.
As owner was dying whilst still giving birth.
To a small sickened child it could of helped save.
Returned him to family as she went to her grave.

Three Cripples a pub where to Fagin will fast. A man named of Monks will throw light on the past.
The story of Oliver’s plight he does pitch. Not knowing the boy has been left in a ditch.
Giles and Brittle two servants regale. Remembering the robbery they did make fail.
An embellished story that has one slight hitch. The bloodied young man will make their story switch.
Doctor and Constable soon to arrive. While injured is taken upstairs to survive.
Upon seeing Oliver, Miss Rose does exclaim. That burglar and boy are not one and the same.
Officer’s Blather and Doth examine the scene. Oliver soon will explain his regime.
Miss Maylie house owner and her niece Miss Rose. Will not let the boy to a prison expose.
Losberne the surgeon and Rose take some time. For ways to conceal the boy from the crime.
Giles and Brittle are forced to retake. Admitting to Officers that they made a mistake.
Oliver’s life takes an healthy uplift. And lady and niece are so glad of this gift.
Tender care and love, make this young lad at home. Never again need to feel so alone.
Losberne takes Oliver to London to see. Where Brownlow and Bedwin could possibly be.
Upon their journey the news they do find. The persons in question have left England behind.
Without any warning poor Miss Rose gets sick. Oliver runs to get Losberne so quick.
On his return as he walks down the lane. He comes on a man who is writhing in pain.
Having retrieved some assistance for man. Returns towards home just as fast as he can.
Wanting to make certain of good news for Rose. Memory of the man in the lane simply goes.
Maylie’s sons Giles and Harry attend. Harry wants Miss Rose as more than a friend.
Whilst Harry is aiming for fortune and fame. Miss Rose has a sensitive mark on her name.
Although the misdeed was no crime of her own. Her parents wrongs will not leave her alone.
Harry is aiming at Prime Minister. So marriage beneath him would cause quite a stir.
With love in his heart the relentless Harry. Tells Miss Rose once more that he does want to Marry.
Although after this time he will not ask again. A tearful lady does have to refrain.
Oliver wakes up in shock from a sleep. Whilst at the window two men they do peep.
Fagin and other man, run off for their shame. Memories rekindled. The man in the lane.
Giles and Harry soon at Oliver’s aid. Searching the grounds but no trace can be made.
Away from the scene things come to an head. Old Bumble and Corney it seems have been wed.
The matron tells husband about what she’s learned. About the dead woman, money could be earned.
Chance meeting with Monks Bumble does make. To meet this caped man his new wife he does take.
For twenty five pounds a deal is made. She passes the goods for which she has been paid.
The locket from Sally, she did take and hold. Inside of locket a ring made of gold.
Inscribed on the inside the man Monks saw there. The name of Agnes and two locks of hair.
Inclined is the man, evidence must go. Weighted and thrown into rivers own flow.
Sikes is in fever and sweat it does shine. As Fagin arrives to deliver some wine.
Fagin replies he does not think it funny. The sickened Sikes still demands from him money.
Fagin takes Nancy back to his hideaway. To get Sikes the money he must indeed pay.
A visitor arrives, two men speak alone. Inquisitive Nancy can hear their drone.
Whatever she heard commits her to see and knock on the front door of Mrs Maylie.
Admitting to Miss Rose so that she should know. Who kidnapped the boy from Mr Brownlow.
She explains what it is she heard from the other. That Monks is indeed poor Oliver’s brother.
Oliver later is out for a treat. He spots Mr Brownlow out on the street.
The young man relates what he saw unto friends. Mr Giles and Miss Rose to Brownlow attend.
Oliver is allowed a visit to see. Brownlow and Bedwin who don’t disagree.
The story from Nancy is passed onto both. To keep it from Oliver they all swear an oath.
The idea to see Nancy would be a vantage. So visit they must, upon London Bridge.
Plans are drawn up things are in sight. The deadline is Sunday. The time is midnight.
Sowerberrie Robbed, Claypole the crook. To London a journey. The police he should duck.
A meeting with Fagin does help to define. The shaking of hands as this union align.
With Dodger locked up the need for a new. Association, by joining the crew.
First on the agenda a visit to court. To view on the sentence that Dodger has bought.
The sentence is in, result deportation. For Dodger a blow, Fagin some irritation.
Fagin tells Noah he will give him one pound. To latch on to Nancy and follow her around.
The midnight meeting from shadows perceived. Of talk about Monks who is not too relieved.
Spying for gentry Nancy will announce. When Monks will attend at that old ale house.
Idea as such, he will be forced to declare. The truth about all he has worked for and where.
Sikes is informed of Nancy’s concern. Anger and hatred through him will burn.
When he returns home, throws the girl onto bed. Lifts up his stick and beats Nancy dead.
Sikes will flee London the following day but tries to drown Bulls-eye who could give him away.
Brownlow captures Monks, taking him to his home. After constant question his cover is blown.
The secret of Monks they were soon to discover. Real name Edward Leeford they then did uncover.
His father he told was forced into marriage. With woman with whom he had tried to disparage.
This loveless union for the father was coarse. So he left but was not to secure a divorce.
Agnes Fleming, this lady became his only affection. The two of them seemingly lost their direction.
As a result of this loving affair. A woman alone with unborn child to care.
Fagin and Noah by police are detained. Though Sikes and his freedom still they remained.
Held up alone at his iniquitous den. Out of the way of all other men.
Bates he does follow, Bulls-eyehe will track. Calling on others to help him attack.
Murderer Sikes is forced now to flee. For the ****** he did to his poor Nancy.
He uses the rooftop with avoiding intent. Hoping that crowds will soon give up, relent.
Using a rope to air his escape. About his person the rope he will drape.
High up on rooftop Sikes does his trek. With rope still entwined in a loop around his neck.
A slip as he ran caused a rooftile to loose. Effecting in Sikes with his head in this noose.
Onlookers can see this of this man that they dread. Asphyxiated. Hanging stone dead.
They say what it is that made this man die. Was caused by seeing into Nancy’s eye.
That her ghost came along and did have its way. Making Bill Sikes forever pay.
Even though this story we cannot prove. For many a persons minds this does indeed sooth.
A Letter its told was found by another. Proving to us to be Edwards mother.
Destroying both a Will and letter. Ensuring that Edwards life will be better.
Agnes’s father found out when she left. Became broken heart and soon to bereft.
His shame and honour were both denied. Accelerated greatly the time when he died.
Poor little sister is taken we see. By good Samaritan lady named Mrs Maylie.
Bringing this child up as her own. Miss Rose as she is now, to us be it known.
Bumble and his wife confess. To their dealings in this mess.
Concealing to Oliver’s history. Never again, office be held by he.
Harry’s makes change of his life’s employ. Prime Ministers aim he will deny.
And thus open another direction. To marry her of his hearts affection.
Fagin is sentenced for all of his crimes. The Gallows imposed for his evil times.
Oliver will feel a need to beset. Fagin for proof of his legitimate
Noah is pardoned, excluded his time. For his testimonie about Fagin’s crime.
Monks travels by ship to the new world. It isn't to long until his life is unfurled.
His wicked ways again he will try. Imprisoned, eventually this is where he will die.
Oliver becomes the adopted son. Brownlow a father does also become.
Miss Rose as aunt that will often frequent. To see Olivers life gaining so much betterment,
Life now to all will be a good friend.
This story is formally now at an end.
A poetic translation of Oliver Twist by Charles Dickens..
May 28th 2011

— The End —