Ode to gertie

Ode to Gertrude- Hamlet’s mother
by-me

Oh Gertie
How Shakespeare has mistaken
The power of your eyes
And of your silhouette

You might not be
A lady Macbeth
But you are just as powerful

How quiet you were
My dear Gertrude
How imposing
How sensual

Dear Hamlet
For the love of your mother
You killed your uncle

Was it worth it
in the end

Doubt that your mother
loved your uncle
Doubt that your best friends
tried to kill you
But never doubt the
power of a mother

new poem

Title- A conversation
by me

He sits there
On a bus bench
Phone in his hand
Voice barely above a whisper

As his relationship
And his heart
Cradles on this conversation

Will she understand
How much he cares
Or will she never speak
To him again

His hand his red
Fused to the phone
Its cold outside
And the bus isn’t here
Yet

But time is irrelevant
To the conversation at hand

She sits at home
Listening to his reasoning
But all she hears are pleas
To keep whatever they have
Together

She wants to love him
As the tears roll down her eyes

Thirty minutes pass

The bus is late
Still no conclusion
No resolution
And he is out of words

She is out of emotions

Both drained
Sitting in opposite
Sides of the town

The bus rolls up
He hangs up the phone
Knowing