"claudius" poems
On the sea-shore, smell of iodine,
and square as in Sicily, and dancing.
An intellectual that came from the common people,
preparing himself to be Rosencrantz.
He decides to serve Claudius and therefore
spy on Prince Hamlet from the fountain.
All over the world — the prison. At the world's
end a certain John plays the piano.
Already darkness, and the end is in sight :
Ophelia crying in an empty hut.
And Hamlet walks to and fro with white headband,
in order to be recognized by the Ghost in the gloom.
6.8k
I dared to love my brother’s wife
And I am not in love alone.
I took her while he was at war
as I will take his throne.
True, Hamlet smote the sledded ******
And gained Denmark a prize,
But I have a poison that will freeze his blood-
guaranteeing his demise.
Gertrude, love, he left your bed
so many years ago.
Now the King lusts for younger flesh;
Look- he eyes Ophelia so.
Polonius sees and will declare
And place me on the throne
We’ll join our hands and fortunes
Before your son gets home.
My brother’s art is violence
With which he overawes the world.
I do my deeds in silence,
Deadly schemes I thus unfurl.
So, Gertrude, love, give me a kiss.
Provide me with the key.
That I, with poison, enter in
and set both of us free.
I dared to love my brother’s wife
And I am not in love alone.
I took her while he was at war
as I will take his throne
Jan 15, 2012
Jan 15, 2012 at 6:30 PM UTC
Gertrude
Caught in my *** and in my gender,
Out a king and husband,
Without time to seek a lover;
A son to preserve
His chance at the Line....
What could I do but marry?
He has left me now,
Shaking in my chamber.
A blood streaked line
follows Polonius'
Ignominious retreat
From behind the tapestry
In Hamlet's tow.
What could I do but marry?
I look anew at the two portraits
Chained side by side,
Husbands One and Two;
Re-live young Hamlet's scorning words
And wondering, shudder.
What could I do but marry?
Comes Claudius roaring
To my rooms, his eyes ablaze
My answers tremble, filled with doubt
Of Hamlet's sanity.
New- eyed, I see
The hatred in the King
And fear.
What could I do but marry?
Jan 2, 2012
Jan 2, 2012 at 11:10 AM UTC
/
We know the truth of this history
If the time is upon us to sin
We can refuse to
But the charges do not
Men move toward the classic way
To love
To Light
To Dream
To Release
One thing I want to say
to Claudius:
Not a War
Not a ******
Take away any child smile
Anyone can't be happy
Who Murdered Love
Anyone can't bring peace
Who does not love the flowers
He may even ****
**Valentine,
My dear Valentine:**
On that day you captured
Thought so
Is not something else,
Love is the only way of Salvation
Human life like a hill track
Somewhere in ups and downs,
This prompts the love constantly Friend
And So "Hate is the only word for Claudius"
Though You put to Death,
Hundreds of thousands of years later
Yet Love glistens in the hearts of millions,
Everybody a Valentine One
And Today I say,
Say with my thousand friends
**"Long Live the Love
Long Live Valentine"**
/
@ Musfiq us shaleheen
Feb 8, 2015
Feb 8, 2015 at 4:51 PM UTC
Unseen and scene,
Of both composed;
these aery heavens,
this solid globe.
Will roused my Sire’s
ghost from the grave.
Will would, for
that’s the part
he played.
What is Will’s will
I next should say?
Will I best Laertes
with my foil today?
Will the villain, Claudius,
be undone
by his victim’s
vacillating son?
What is Will’s will
regarding Mum?
Unseen and scene,
Of both composed;
these Aery heavens
this solid globe.
Now I lay dying,
and Fortenbras comes.
Let my tale be told
in every tongue.
“The rest is silence”-
Thy will be done.
Jun 4, 2012
Jun 4, 2012 at 7:27 AM UTC
Pressed for a poem
he thought he’d write
to say he loved her
and quite right too
he thought that
love should be
a statement thick
with words so tender
true yet gentle
as that soft complaining
flute he heard
in Dryden’s slick
immortal ode that
‘in dying notes
discovers woes
of hopeless lovers
whose dirge is whispered
by their warbling lute’
Oh yes come you and I
let’s like music
untune the sky!
But my dearest this day is not
the feast of Sancta Cecelia
but of a Roman priest and martyr
beheaded by the Flaminian Gate
for marrying Christians in the street.
And when imprisoned by Claudius’ decree
healed the sight of his jailer’s daughter
Lucy – by leaving her at his death a letter
‘I hope your sight gets better in time’
and signed it ‘from your Valentine ‘
(with two kisses one for each eye)
. . . and it did
Such love can
make us see anew
can help us be
forever true and
gracious to each other’s
cares each other’s woes
and live in hope
(let’s really try)
to be together
always
you and I
Feb 13, 2015
Feb 13, 2015 at 7:53 AM UTC
I won't accept the end
Gently or gracefuly,
But begrudgingly,
In private anguish:
That is truth;
Unadorned,
And sure.
I've not dealt with the vanish
Of comrades in battle;
Or happened upon
A loved one
At the end of the rope.
I've felt the tug,
The smell of CO,
The hardness beneath
The Bluewater Bridge;
The bottle, blade and pill
On the frozen faces of friends,
On family:
Michael, Marlene, Jimmy, Eucheria.
The family innocents
Whisked off
In the maelstrom of bounding youth.
*But you must know your father lost a father,
That father lost, lost his, and the survivor bound
In filial obligation for some time..*
Claudius speaks the cold hard truth,
But Claudius was childless;
Such guileless advice.
And Shakespeare's kids were playing
In the yard
As he penned his tragedy.
But,
Bury a child
And have an eternal membership
In the
****** for Life Club.*
Mar 7, 2016
Mar 7, 2016 at 5:45 PM UTC
It's difficult to tell
When something as big as this started.
He was witnessed holding my little brother
As though he were a fawn drinking milk
From a snub-nosed brown bottle.
He was indifferent with a cuff,
It could've been a hug.
His aquaintances used his talents
For personal gain;
They sat at our table,
Enjoying chops and fried onions.
He was never in the audience,
Never in the stands beaming;
He was as dysfunctional as Claudius
Among melancholy princesses and princes
Who clasped palms to foreheads.
If I'd known Alas and Woe,
That's when I'd voice them.
One night, I considered pouring poison
In his ear.
Jan 21, 2016
Jan 21, 2016 at 11:22 AM UTC
the boy with tousled black hair met my gaze and cocked his head to the side. "come here", he mouthed with a grin that allowed his fangs, sharp and glinting, to come into view. they were like diamonds and i was a lapidary, fueled to engrave him into my memory. the other boy beside him was too busy placing kisses all over his pale neck to notice i had moved closer. eventually, he stopped. his silver eyes flashed into mine, and his lips barked a kind of laughter that brought a slick of sweat to my palms. "Claudius, who is this?"
Claudius stood up, his voice mocking. "our appetizer."
the urge to run kicked me to the stomach, but my feet couldn't sprint quick enough.
he pierced his fangs into my neck, and i drifted.
Apr 16, 2019
Apr 16, 2019 at 6:41 AM UTC
I am not some bug to be kept in a jar
Just so you can tap the glass
And watch me squirm around.
I managed to worm my way out
From under your bloated thumb
And metamorphosised
From the fragile moth
With the wings you pulled off
Time
And time again
Into something
With a backbone
That will bite that hand that feeds her
If it's joined to the mouth
That fed poison into her ears
In the manner
Of Claudius,
(Shakespeare’s infamous snake-tongued king of stolen crown),
Causing her skin to
Rot and
Fester
With every
Wayward glance at
Her reflection.
The mouth
That hid blows
In honeyed words;
Every nearly-aced report card
And shiny new “Participant” ribbon
Met with
“That’s great.
But,
You could do better.”
You laid eggs
Of doubt and anxiety
So deep in my brain
I may keep discovering them until
The world drowns in endless void, and
My new spine turns to dust.
k.f.
May 15, 2015
May 15, 2015 at 10:21 PM UTC
We are reminded of him, this time every year,
On A certain day, not much talk of the reason,
He is remembered, in A special way.
In the third century, an emperor, known as Claudius the cruel,
In those day's, ordered all Romans, to worship twelve God's,
Or their life be taken away.
To be a Christian, and believe in Christ, was A crime,
The of death, did not scare this man, as he was imprisoned,
Waiting for his time.
He taught A jailers, blind daughter to pray, A light,
Shone in the jail, and she could see, the last note, he signed,
From your Valentine, he was killed on February 14th 270 AD,
In his memory, A special day, came to be.
Tom Maxwell copyright 1/23/2006 AD
Feb 13, 2021
Feb 13, 2021 at 9:53 PM UTC
"Do not always say what you know,
but always know what you say."
-Claudius
Oct 3, 2013
Oct 3, 2013 at 5:06 PM UTC
Was a man of the true meaning of love,
Would defy the words of men and god,
In his pursuit to help others be happy,
Hosting illegal weddings for men and women,
Binding them together for life,
Under the cover of night,
In gardens of wealthy friends,
Out of Roman imperial sight..
Once he was caught,
With wrath Claudius was fraught,
14TH of February was the date,
Valentine faced his fate,
Beheaded in front of a crowd,
The people martyred him,
Made him the saint of lovers.
To commemorate this day,
Do just as I say,
He wished for those in love,
Write simple notes as confessions of love,
Give flowers as a token of your affection,
And share your love with everyone dear to you.
Feb 14, 2020
Feb 14, 2020 at 8:27 AM UTC
Quand Auguste mourut, Rome, donnant l'exemple,
Sur le mont Palatin lui fit bâtir un temple ;
Et Livie y dressa des figures d'airain ;
Elle mit au sommet du fronton souverain
Neptune et Jupiter, et sous le péristyle
Le mime Claudius et le danseur Bathylle.
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