ATTENTION IPAD USERS!
Apple doesn't like listing me as "Will Shakespeare (poetry blogger)"
to differentiate me from the other guy, although everybody else does.
They took my first book but now won't take new ones. (Go figure.)
Since Smashwords distributes my books to Apple anyway,
just go to my Smashwords author page and download EPUBs from there.
Smashwords provides samples of my books also.

Sunday, February 28, 2010

Shaken

For the victors of Haiti and Chile,
Who refuse to be beaten by hardship.

Foundations of our world are shaken… hard.
The bedrock cracks; Chile heaves, Haiti weeps
As frightened people stagger in its wake.
Many die. Although it was the earth’s fault
That crumbling walls on unseen dangers built
Collapsed and, with them, our illusions took,
We censure God; then we, defiant, build
Our world anew. Is this our fault, or glory?

Weep, weep for the fatherless, my siblings;
Rise to their aid and comfort them, my family.
Remember where the true fault lies… and pray
For strength, for wisdom, for compassion; for
Though we may be shaken, we are not crushed.
Here, in our spirits, Nature’s true force lies.

Friday, February 26, 2010

Diamonds Are a Man's Best Friend

A concept ad for Saint Viagra,
Patron saint of men who seek sensation.


Blue, oh so blue; my spirit droops with weakness.
No one here can save me; all my passions
Fail me. Limply I collapse, dejected,
Knowing that I dare not share my secret.

Blue, oh so blue; diamonds sparkle brightly.
My trembling hands can scarcely set them free,
Trapped within a bubble, isolated
From the touch of one who needs their comfort.

Blue, oh so blue; received with open arms,
To you my sorrows I can now confess.
You hear, you understand, I take communion;
You are my sacrament; I rise, absolved.

Elation fills my soul; aroused by hope,
I lift my head in victory sublime…

Thursday, February 25, 2010

Reemergence

A piece to celebrate my business launch.

Once my crown ascended o’er the wilderness
To lofty heights where only griffons fly.
I played the oracle and told the tales
While, in my shade, the saplings sought my power.
In jealousy they cut me down; “Thor’s Oak
No more!” they cried. They grew, and stole the sun,
The precious sun that nourished me so long.

I must escape; new shoots require the sun.
The canopy is thick, but this I know:
Ancient oaks may pierce the rocky topsoil
To drink from wells that saplings never know.