Tag Archives: Shakespeare

YOU TALK OF SHAKESPEARE

A brilliant poem from Damian Garside (who blogs at ‘ best poetry blog in the cosmos ~ 4 out of 5 dentists recommend ‘) :-

best poetry blog in the cosmos

YOU TALK OF SHAKESPEARE

you talk of Shakespeare
as if you
know him

and you do
from flowery
pageants of history
and your coffee table
(or maybe that
is too much of an assumption)

you talk of Shakespeare
as if he were so
consonant with
your ideology
(I admit, so much
in common there,
down that
Lancastrian line

the greatest at-pain-
of-death trick
ever pulled

and true Tudor
beginning of British propaganda
those heavenly lies without
which Empire
a true miscarriage,
an abortion

no new world born
Cape to Cairo
sun
never setting
on its shade of pink)

yes
Shakespeare is
one part bedrock and
one part
shadow, pure
disavowal, anarchic subversion

he had the bravery to
flaunt before your faces
the life and energy of his characters

telling a truth you
would not believe

Mr Politician, most recent in that line
of hucksters and usurpers, connivers
and
men with…

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Friday Poem: Grief fills the room up

Grief fills the room up of my absent child,
Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me,
Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words,
Remembers me of all his gracious parts,
Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form;
Then, have I reason to be fond of grief?
Fare you well: had you such a loss as I,
I could give better comfort than you do.
I will not keep this form upon my head,
When there is such disorder in my wit.
O Lord! my boy, my Arthur, my fair son!
My life, my joy, my food, my all the world!
My widow-comfort, and my sorrows’ cure!

By William Shakespeare

Spoken by Constance, mourning her son Arthur

Full text at :  http://shakespeare.mit.edu/john/john.3.4.html

Friday Poem: To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow

To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day
To the last syllable of recorded time,
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more: it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing

By William Shakespeare

Spoken by Macbeth at Dunsinane, near the end of it all, having been told that Lady Macbeth was dead — last year, I saw Christopher Eccelston play Macbeth, his rendition of this particular speech brought me to tears.

Full text at :  http://shakespeare.mit.edu/macbeth/macbeth.5.5.html

Friday Poem: How sour sweet music is

Ha, ha! keep time: how sour sweet music is,
When time is broke and no proportion kept!
So is it in the music of men’s lives.
And here have I the daintiness of ear
To cheque time broke in a disorder’d string;
But for the concord of my state and time
Had not an ear to hear my true time broke.
I wasted time, and now doth time waste me;
For now hath time made me his numbering clock:
My thoughts are minutes; and with sighs they jar
Their watches on unto mine eyes, the outward watch,
Whereto my finger, like a dial’s point,
Is pointing still, in cleansing them from tears.
Now sir, the sound that tells what hour it is
Are clamorous groans, which strike upon my heart,
Which is the bell: so sighs and tears and groans
Show minutes, times, and hours:

By William Shakespeare

Spoken by Richard the Second, while imprisoned at Pomfret Castle

Full text at :  http://shakespeare.mit.edu/richardii/richardii.5.5.html

Friday Poem: The isle is full of noises

Be not afeard; the isle is full of noises,
Sounds and sweet airs, that give delight and hurt not.
Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments
Will hum about mine ears, and sometime voices
That, if I then had waked after long sleep,
Will make me sleep again: and then, in dreaming,
The clouds methought would open and show riches
Ready to drop upon me that, when I waked,
I cried to dream again.

By William Shakespeare

Spoken by Caliban in The Tempest — and used in the London 2012 Olympics Opening Ceremony.   “Be not afeard; the isle is full of noises” — I loved it as a description of the British Isles!

Full Text at:  http://shakespeare.mit.edu/tempest/tempest.3.2.html

Poetry on the internet

Many of us share poetry on the internet, either our own or others. Did you know that there is an internet standard regarding poetry? I’ve included it below, although you may be somewhat suspicious once you spot the publication date. Please forgive me if its all Greek to you. I happen to speak this sort of thing!

This is a genuine RFC. But for some reason of other, it’s not, to my knowledge been used……

Note for the non geek: A Request for Comments (RFC) is a formal document from the Internet Engineering Task Force ( IETF ) that is the result of committee drafting and subsequent review by interested parties. Some RFCs are informational in nature. Of those that are intended to become Internet standards, the final version of the RFC becomes the standard and no further comments or changes are permitted. Change can occur, however, through subsequent RFCs that supersede or elaborate on all or parts of previous RFCs.

————————————————————————–

Network Working Group                                                              W. Shakespeare
Request for Comments: 1605                                                     Globe Communications
Category: Informational                                                              1 April 1994

SONET to Sonnet Translation

Status of this Memo

This memo provides information for the Internet community. This memo
does not specify an Internet standard of any kind. Distribution of
this memo is unlimited.

Abstract

Because Synchronous Optical Network (SONET) transmits data in frames
of bytes, it is fairly easy to envision ways to compress SONET frames
to yield higher bandwidth over a given fiber optic link. This memo
describes a particular method, SONET Over Novel English Translation
(SONNET).

Protocol Overview

In brief, SONNET is a method for compressing 810-byte (9 lines by 90
bytes) SONET OC-1 frames into approximately 400-byte (fourteen line
decasyllabic) English sonnets. This compression scheme yields a
roughly 50% average compression, and thus SONNET compression speeds
are designated OCh-#, where ‘h’ indicates 50% (one half) compression
and the # is the speed of the uncompressed link. The acronym is
pronounced “owch.”

Mapping of the 2**704 possible SONET payloads is achieved by matching
each possible payload pattern with its equivalent Cerf catalog number
(see [1], which lists a vast number of sonnets in English, many of
which are truly terrible but suffice for the purposes of this memo).

Basic Transmission Rules

The basic transmission rules are quite simple. The basic SONET OC-1
frame is replaced with the corresponding sonnet at the transmission
end converted back from the sonnet to SONET at the receiving end.
Thus, for example, SONET frame 12 is transmitted as:

When do I count the clock that tells the time
And see the brave day sunk in hideous night;
When I behold the violet past prime,
And sable curls,…

For rates higher than OC-1, the OC-1 frames may either come
interleaved or concatenated into larger frames. Under SONNET
conversion rules, interleaved frames have their corresponding sonnet
representations interleaved. Thus SONET frames 33, 29 and 138 in an
OC-3 frame would be converted to the sequence:

Full many a glorious morning have I seen
When, in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes,
When my loves swears that she is made of truth
Flatter the mountain-tops with sovereign eye
I all alone beweep my outcast state,
I do believe her, though I know she lies
Kissing with golden face…

while in an OC-3c frame, the individual OC-1 frames concatenated, one
after another, viz.:

Full many a glorious morning have I seen Flatter the mountain-
tops with sovereign eye Kissing with golden face…

When, in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes, I all alone
beweep my outcast state,…

When my loves swears that she is made of truth I do believe her,
though I know she lies…

(This example, perhaps, makes clear why data communications experts
consider concatenated SONET more efficient and esthetically
pleasing).

Timing Issues

It is critical in this translation scheme to maintain consistent
timing within a frame. If SONET frames or converted sonnets shift in
time, the SONET pointers, or worse, poetic meter, may suffer.

References

[1] Cerf, B., “A Catalog of All Published English Sonnets to 1950”,
Random House, 1953. (Now out of print.)

Security Considerations

Security issues are not discussed in this memo.

Author’s Address

William Shakespeare
Globe Communications
London, United Kingdom

Any suggestions that this, or any other work by this author, might
be the work of a third party such as C. Marlow, R. Bacon, or
C. Partridge or based on a previously developed theme by
P.V. Mockapetris are completely spurious.

Friday poem: How like a winter

How like a winter hath my absence been
From thee, the pleasure of the fleeting year!
What freezings have I felt, what dark days seen!
What old December’s bareness everywhere!
And yet this time remov’d was summer’s time,
The teeming autumn, big with rich increase,
Bearing the wanton burthen of the prime,
Like widow’d wombs after their lords’ decease:
Yet this abundant issue seem’d to me
But hope of orphans and unfather’d fruit;
For summer and his pleasures wait on thee,
And thou away, the very birds are mute;
Or if they sing, ’tis with so dull a cheer
That leaves look pale, dreading the winter’s near.

At Stratford with William

From above I watch the story unfold
Bask in dense poetry
The pleasure of  words and phrasing
So pertinent to the action
To the people laying out their very lives in front of us
I laugh uproariously then
Gasp as the knife plunges
Hold my breath
Knowing from schooldays the inevitable end
But hoping this time, here, now
That tragedy can somehow not play out on this stage
That all must come right even for this poor foolish reprobate
Sit shaken, still, grieving
Then
Stand and  roar my appreciation
My hands clap fast and hard  above my head
I grin in sheer pleasure at the craft and art
That has been spun out this evening
As the story concludes and the players bow

Copyright © 2017  Kim Whysall-Hammond

We will be seeing Macbeth at Stratford this week!

Bosworth Field

P1180422.JPG

A gentle breeze billows the green barley
Sending waves shimmering from hedge to hedge
Elder and Herb Robert sparkle the field edge
Above the oak leaves do not stir

Near here a crown once hung on a thorn bush
Men struggled for cause, battle cries rang out
A King died alone fighting amid the foe
Violated in death, lost
Naked and broken the victors took him to town for display
Traitor they called him, an anointed King of England
Hunchback, wicked, perfidious
Name calling by the new regime
Murderer of children they whispered into the stream of history

A gentle breeze billows the green barley
Above the oak leaves do not stir

Copyright © 2017 Kim Whysall-Hammond

At Stratford with William

At Stratford with William

From above I watch the story unfold
Bask in dense poetry
The pleasure of  words and phrasing
So pertinent to the action
To the people laying out their very lives in front of us
I laugh uproariously then
Gasp as the knife plunges
Hold my breath
Knowing from schooldays the inevitable end
But hoping this time, here, now
That tragedy can somehow not play out on this stage
That all must come right even for this poor foolish reprobate
Sit shaken, still, grieving
Then
Stand and  roar my appreciation
My hands clap fast and hard  above my head
I grin in sheer pleasure at the craft and art
That has been spun out this evening
As the story concludes and the players bow

Copyright © 2017  Kim Whysall-Hammond

For William Shakespeare’s Birthday…