Tweetspeak Poetry

Shakespeare and Company: Playing the Fool Poetry Prompt

By 28 Comments

Shakespeare_and_Company_Playing_the_Fool
King Lear: Dost thou call me fool, boy?
Fool: All thy other titles thou hast given away; that thou wast born with.

It’s been said the purpose of Shakespeare’s fools may have been intended as “an emotional vacation from the more serious business of the main action.”  The theatrical Fool also serves as a mediator between the stage and the audience, guiding the spectators along while telling truths. In King Lear, the Fool throws his king some (witty) shade by criticizing and reminding him of the poor decisions he’s carried out.
Fool characters are often seen as unimportant or shallow, but despite perception they are an important part of the theater and help bridge the gap between key characters and the audience.

‘That, of course, is the great secret of the successful fool – that he is no fool at all.’ —Isaac Asimov, Asimov’s Guide to Shakespeare: A Guide to Understanding and Enjoying the Works of Shakespeare

Try it

Write a poem from the perspective of the Fool. Can you think of any modern day absurdities that King Lear’s Fool might find worthy of commentary? Maybe the Selfie Stick or the everyday use of hashtags deserves a sarcastic jab (#ThouArtHackneyed). What ridiculous treasures within popular culture do you think would inspire a poetic monologue by the Shakespearean Fool? Share it with us!

Featured Poem

Thank you to everyone who participated in last week’s poetry prompt. Here is a ballad by Richard we enjoyed:

Fulgurite

I am the rough limbs risen from the fire
in sand, the drums of Fiji striking back
into your spot of light, the war and sire
that battered you and made for me the wrack
of lullabies spun from the whorls of shells
on those ruined shores, made for you the glass,
the sea of color that soothed you like a spell,
a gentler light to fall upon the Mass.
The kiln never cools, glow of scoria
fine, from which a story grows so slowly,
the parts in broken pieces, paper torn
and tossed away, true, but not yet holy.
This scouring of the years has polished me,
father of my father, setting us both free.

 —by Richard Maxson

Photo by Daniel Zedda, Creative Commons, via Flickr.

Browse more Shakespeare
Browse more writing prompts
Browse poetry teaching resources

 

Heather Eure
Latest posts by Heather Eure (see all)

Try Every Day Poems...

Comments

  3. Rick Maxson says

    Poor Atlas

    The world is slipping on his sweaty back,
    so much dust all these years, and meteors,
    the vibration from the cities and scores
    of rockets blasting off. Of course, the lack
    those objectivists have for help, who frack
    away for every drop of oil, what’s more,
    the continents keep shifting and the core
    lets plates collide and makes the mountains quake.

    There was a time he held up all the spheres,
    the whole of heaven held without a strain,
    when people walked, except for charioteers,
    the tap of feet and horses caused no pain.
    The most of what we do is wipe his tears
    and take some weight off when we take a plane.

    Reply

  5. Rick Maxson says

    One more and then I’ll stop.

    No Cell Phones

    There is a certain peace here in the dark,
    though hawkers put me off a little bit.
    But worse is when the lovers start to kiss,
    the theme from Rocky blares a call for you.

    Though hawkers put me off a little bit,
    I like the common fare of hot dog stands,
    but then the theme from Rocky beckons you
    and makes a noisy province of the park.

    I like the common fare of hot dog stands,
    but ringtones ruined all the classic streets
    and made noisy provinces of the parks.
    So I eat lunch in silence in my car.

    It’s not just Rocky ruined all the streets,
    but the grating of the greats cacophony
    that’s so annoying in the peaceful dark
    where nothing should disturb a lover’s kiss.

    Reply

      • Rick Maxson says

        It is a Pantoum, but in S4 I think I messed up on the pattern.

        It could be corrected this way:

        that’s forced me to retreat inside my car
        with a Sabrett and Beethoven’s Ninth.

        I used to dislike writing with forms, but the more I did it the more I saw their value.

        Reply

        • Bethany says

          The pantoum is my favorite form. Love the idea of ringtones ruining the moment. The Rocky theme is such a specific detail, that I feel it with you.

          Reply

  6. Prasanta says

    The Guest

    He tramples on my azaleas,
    barges right in— no ringing

    the bell or hearty knock–
    plants himself right beside me

    on the couch. Of course. The old
    tusker won’t leave me alone,

    ribbing, winking, and nodding my
    direction all afternoon. When

    guests leave, he arises, takes
    long final sip of tea, gently sets

    cup on table, marches out the
    room— the indentation on

    the couch– the only proof
    of his appearance— that pesky

    persistent pachyderm who is
    now more friend than foe.

    Reply

  7. Rick Maxson says

    China Doll

    You can read about it when you’re older,
    see photos of the children on the stairs,
    a day the world turned a little colder.

    A doll from then, careful how you hold her,
    she’s porcelain, survivor of two pairs;
    You can read about it when you’re older.

    Three others, broken pieces, left to smolder
    in the clinker, but this one was so fair
    and the ash there was a little colder.

    I wrapped my scarf around her to fold her
    in something soft, the guards not watching there.
    You can read about it when you’re older.

    She was your mother’s; like you I told her,
    be gentle now and handle her with care,
    from days the world turned a little colder.

    By the Elbe in ruin near the polder,
    there beauty testified as sirens blared.
    You can read about it when you’re older,
    the day the world turned a little colder.

    Reply

Trackbacks

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *