With thanks and apologies to Shakespeare
Hamlet, Act III, Scene One
To write or not to write – that is the question.
Whether tis nobler to shelter ambiotic ideas
That push for life,
To suffer their silent screams for release
Or oppose their birth,
Let them die
And sleep no more.
Perchance tis time to take arms
Against the fear of creation,
To nurture the dream,
Explore undiscovered country,
Woo outrageous fortune,
Ignore heartache
From the thousand shocks of life.
A pale pause –
Of risk, if consummation lacks
In putting pen to paper,
Words to life,
Heart to the world.
Should cowardice appear,
What then?
Ay, there’s the rub,
And tis my turn
To scream.
Hi Denice! I met you at the Willamette Writers Conference last weekend & would love to read one of your faery screenplays. (I’m writing an upper YA urban faery fantasy). Your poem is clever, by the way. I actually want to see it drawn out a bit more. With a positive, “write!” vibe at the end, I wonder if Willamette Writers would publish it in their newsletter or in next year’s conference program as an encouragement to writers? Either way, it’s fun, & I particularly enjoy “to shelter ambiotic ideas.”
Hi Tanya!
I’m still working out the bugs on my website. Mine, mostly. Please let me know if you received my email from last week. Thanks.
Denice — Love the poem, know the feeling. Bravo! Your whole website is delightful. I loved the illustrations and the stories sound like fun. Here’s to the future — may the traffic here be heavy. dc
Thanks Dee! I appreciate your thoughts and enthusiasm.