Regarding the Bard
I like to think Shakespeare wrote Shakespeare.
Genius alights where it will, oblivious of rank
or even education. In fact, you can probably bet,
wherever it lands will be somehow ‘unsuitable’.
He was good at observing human foibles –
and, being of fairly humble condition, most likely
observed them first in himself, or at least
the latent possibilities. After all, haven’t we all
ached with Romeo’s idealised teenage lust,
or Miranda’s naive romantic dreams?
Who has not sometimes plotted revenge,
envied power, longed to live free in a forest?
Or been torn apart by bossy parents and elders
like poor old Hamlet – who really just wanted
to get back to Uni., have a good time, and be
damned to duty. Shakespeare wrote it down.
And he knew he had to make it entertaining,
so he put in bawdy jokes, lots of blood and gore,
and all sorts of farcical mistakes and mishaps.
He had a theatre to run and players to pay.
He knew how to twang on the heartstrings:
how to make ‘em laugh and make ‘em cry
with words, with spectacle, with stories.
For his own heart, look elsewhere.
In the plays he will show you yourself; as well as
your family, friends, enemies, lovers. Also, disguised,
the bosses, rich and powerful, who lord it over you.
(Fools, knaves, or heroes; deal with what you get.)
But look to the sonnets, the personal thoughts,
the inner reflections and questionings,
lone confessionals of desire, love, pain ...
if you seek to meet the true Will Shakespeare.