All that was mine in Silvia I give thee –Two Gentlemen of Verona How to make a woman mute: Give her to your friend like the object of affection she always was. In Shakespeare, lovers are always trading rings, each one the licked fingerprint of a beloved, an arrow to
Where hast thou been, sister? –Macbeth Since the night I was born I’ve I’ll known howling at the moon, mixed kiss yours with my own, crossed all times rhymes to together by the born beards your beard on our faces. Even when apart of hurt women’s tales never tell and
The group of poems featured in Deep Overstock’s Shakespeare issue are part of a collection that developed as I read through the full catalogue of Shakespeare’s plays. The experience was a frustrating sensory thrill. I didn’t set out to focus on Shakespeare’s female characters; my favorite play is Coriolanus, in
language-less, a monster – Troilus and Cressida Athena loves Ulysses for his guile, Achilles for his prowess, does not love quiet Ajax, though he grows like a tree towards Olympus. What patron will visit Ajax in his tent at night and accompany the mammoth body, oiled and scraped, as it
Shall I go win my daughter to thy will? – Richard III I think of Elizabeth, Edward’s daughter, that pretty box for reconciling hopes. She never is onstage except in the mouths of those who bid on her. Here is a play with ghosts, two princes locked in a tower.
If you watch a lot of tv, especially critically acclaimed, you might come to suspect that a woman is a pair of tits attached to broken, a hurt circuit flipped again and again. It’s like we get written into believing we are the worst thing ever done to us. So
I am your spaniel – A Midsummer Night’s Dream When you told Demetrius that the girl he lusted for was headed for the forest with the boy she wanted in her turn and then you followed him with hopes that he would beat you like his dog, I knew you
Descend. Be stone no more. – The Winter’s Tale “Was Shakespeare a Woman?” – Elizabeth Winkler, The Atlantic Remember, when absence comes along ringing his empty bell of doubt that everyone will someday dream about the loves they lost and those they left among the ruins when the bonds they