Known to have invented/coined/minted over 400 new words, I have put a few (61) together here for my amusement. They are in italics… Enjoy
An Ode to fellow writers who like the written word
I may unearth a little tale that you may think absurd.
I was born not far from Stratford, birthplace of the ‘Bard’
easily accessible from my old front yard.
Well to your amazement you might find this lacklustre
that I wasn’t really into him, though he was an indistinguishable buster.
Is not that he’s disgraceful, distrustful or distasteful,
he simply wasn’t my cup of tea; I know I sound ungrateful.
I’m not being sanctimonious or engaging in rumination
but I’d rather hang out, if I could with an ill-tempered Dalmatian.
I know for others, he is king and really hard to rival
but I think I’m more impartial to reading the blessed bible!
I’ve been to his house a few times as I’m a little fascinated,
of course the tour began downstairs with a honey-tongued man named David
He had a hunchbacked girlfriend, she was quite a hoot
If she mixed up her lines however, he would show his hobnail boot!
David was ill-tempered this I can’t deny
I heard at their engagement, she had a little cry
I told her not to dwindle, that he was too domineering
she ought to end this courtship and audition for the ‘girl with the pearl earring’.
I don’t mean to be critical but some things just must be said
Of course its circumstantial but I’m not really that well read
I don’t think Shakespeare was fair-faced, he’d had a lot of exposure
but his plays and poems were equivocal in written word disclosure
In his pretty garden there is a rather large footfall
Of people listening to his ‘Acts’; not out playing football
I came across a fortune-teller, suffering with leaky gut
She was a promethean psychic, with a rather large butt
What she said was priceless, over credulous more like
So I became a little hostile and slept on it that night
I think she was a madwoman of that I must lament
she told me that Will Shakespeare, at night to her was sent
as he watched her undress he would have a fitful fap
and when he had quite finished, she would stand up and clap
You see why I am so fretful at this foulmouthed hot-blooded woman
Why would she just stand there while the Bard was ‘coming’
What an auspicious story, it makes me want to shudder
I think she must be lonely and her mind is in the gutter.
His house is quite a wonder, nook-shotten here and there
I even saw his marriage bed when I went upstairs
The guide was watching closely like useful watchdog
Ensuring nothing useless would get past the sod
So here I am to educate myself as I write this
My aim is to humor and of course to reminisce
Because I didn’t know that Shakespeare had invented so many words
I may not be reclusive, but I’m a fairly kickie-wickie girl
I hope you get your moneys-worth if you ever pay a visit
It’s really quite majestic for the time that was in it
I could keep going on and on for there are 422 words minted
By the zany William Shakespeare of which we have been gifted
I’m not one for braggartism so I really will end it here
Don’t be too cold-hearted let me hear some Cheer!
‘we are such stuff as dreams are made on, and our little life is rounded with sleep’The Tempest Act 4, Scene 1
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