Shakespeare Under Ground

My lovely son Paul, whose mission is to enrich the culture of TFL, has asked me to try my hand at writing a poem conflating Shakespeare and the tube. Can’t be more difficult than involving Dracula with the housing crisis, I thought..

 

I sway inside a tube at dark of day

Burrowing through the earth like an old mole.

No-one it seems has anything to say

I am a ghost; naught left of me but soul.

 

Light clatters by as people ebb and flow

The clothes don’t tell me who these strangers are

Beggar or king? A dame? A whore? Who knows?

Though some do speak by glance, by sigh, by scar..

 

I rise above ground, find the open air

And there the Globe – the Globe?

In this odd landscape, why is that still there?

And why my name, why actors in my robes?

 

Can it be so, that through this town of mine,

My words still run, despite the run of time?

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s