A brief prose about William Shakespeare.
|Legend says, the first nightingale sings in Stratford,
On St George's Day, a poet has let his melody take over the earth's heart.
His name was William Shakespeare.
Debts and trouble sure hit him in the face,
When John Shakespeare was caught "wool brogging."
The whining school boy,
Who didn't play much with toys,
With his satchel and shining morning face,
Creeped like a snail, unwillingly, to school.
Spent many years studying Latin poetry and prose.
Soon, it was forbidden to speak English in school.
Lost years passed him by
And welcomed him with a bond with Anne Hathaway,
And sure, he drifted away.
As from a sonnet, he portrayed,
"I hate" from hate away she threw and saved my life saying, "Not you."
Susanna, Hamnet, and Judith were born.
But Will has left for London,
Leaving his young family abandoned,
Working day and night, as the hireling actor.
Unaware where the drops of creativity came from,
He surely heard someone say,
"It's worth having died two hundred years ago to have Shakespeare deliver a single line."
What a great actor was he during that time!
The poet's face was hidden in the lines of poetry and plays.
A pen on-hire ,and the stage is on fire.
If that's not legend, god knows what that is.