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Evangeline Feb 24
Poor, thou, little girl who thought
Love would get to thee one day,
Bet thou never thought to expect
It would culminate in doom.

And I am the resurrection in thy tomb
And the life that speaks of mercy at close of day,
Muddy Waters carry thou so far away
From Polonius and Laertes,
Tears in bloom.

Denmark's Prince in shambles thine heart left,
Dissembling and conniving against kin,
In his heart only one ambition firm:
Take back his rightful throne and fair Gertrude.

Neither Shakespeare nor Victoria save thee could
From the evil of the quill, it's own mind set.
In the labyrinth of the parchment thine fate met
"To be or not to be?"
Aye, there's the rub.
gray Dec 2021
Ophelia’s swinging herself across her lake
The salt of the water is hitting my face. Can she leave?
Can’t she go? I’m fed up with the artificial show.
Female insanity, that’s me.
If I die today I’ll make it pretty.
i wrote this whilst drunk so its literally the worst thing ive ever written, idk how to be more sophisticated tbh
Nolan Willett Feb 2021
When you realize you’ll never seize the day,
Never have the right things to say,
Your judgments are always erroneous,
You’re not Hamlet, but Polonius.
Though you know that all things must end,
It doesn’t spur your torments to mend,
A dutiful advisor,
Who never gets wiser.
It must be so serene
Never having thought you might have been-
“Neither a borrower nor lender be”;
I say, yet fear both apply to me.
“To thine own self be true”;
ah! Long ago, I missed that cue-
And all do agree,
The audience doesn’t need, my soliloquy.
Under all this weight so crushing
And the envy to just feel nothing,
This act’s end, now I’m certain:
I’ll die off stage, behind a curtain.
Hamlet is my favorite Shakespeare play, and I wanted to write from Polonius’POV
Maria Mitea Jul 2020
...
Without saying a word Hamlet confronts
a new world of ignorance and defense,
that makes him contemplate the sense
of life and death ones again while shelving at
Value Village “Madness, deceive and revenge,
this is going on for too long,
there is nothing to live for …”
...
The monolog of “to be or not to be”
continues in my pocket …
as I pay four dollars at the cashier,
Hamlet rescued from obscurity
feels happy and safe for-once
...
Value Village it is a second hand store in Canada. Selling clothes and books, different things people don’t need anymore ...
Kaitlin Jun 2020
Waterlilies.
And once,
Rue and columbine
(thoughts and remembrance)

Pretty flowers,
From me
(of me)

"Pretty Ophelia"
floating with flowers.
Pretty still,
Nothing more.
Was I never anything more?
She deserved so much better.
Alice Weatherley Apr 2020
We feel ourselves rogue and peasant slaves -
In that is no disgust.
Collectively yet to have been stripped of
Our formalities, plunged into fiction, devoid of normality -
An undiscovered country, if you must.

We doze cosy in dreams of passion
Where space and silence nudges pens; they bleed.
Though liquidity stiffens
Flair and genius warm the air
Assuming a pleasing shape, indeed.

We weep under a broken voice
When seas of trouble rise to strike us down.
Remorseless - how can it pause to pick and choose?
Treacherous - anxiety bedevils our news
But temporary, false is its crown.

When we think or moan, twiddle thumbs or disengage,
There is nothing, not even tears, that dares to drown our stage.
King Arthur Apr 2020
Ophelia was only remembered for being dead
Floating daintily in a river, surrounded by flowers
A spectacle for all eyes to see and drink up hungrily
But one day she’ll breathe again and rise up from her grave
White dress sodden, makeup askew, long hair soaked and tangled
And she will realize she she is and break free from that image
The one that held her dead for so long, drowned and lifeless
And for once in her life, her short-written life, she will breath with ease
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