Archives For Poetry

Taken from the Complete Works of William Shakespeare

The Winter’s Tale


ACT V. SCENE I—SICILIA. A Room in the Palace of



and others.

Cleo. Sir, you have done enough, and have perform’d

A saint-like sorrow: no fault could you make,

Which you have not redeem’d; indeed, paid


More penitence than done trespass: at the last,

Do as the heavens have done, forget your evil;

With them, forgive yourself.

Leon.                                Whilst I remember

Her and her virtues, I cannot forget

My blemishes in them; and so still think of

The wrong I did myself: which was so much

That heirless it hath made my kingdom, and

Destroy’d the sweet’st companion that e’er man

Bred his hopes out of.

Paul.                        True, to true, my lord;

If, one by one, you wedded all the world,

Or from the all that are the something good,

To make a perfect woman, she you kill’d

Would be unparallel’d.

Leon.                        I think so.—Kill’d!

She I kill’d! I did so: buy thou strik’st me

Sorely, to say I did: it is a bitter           [now,

Upon thy tongue as in my thought: now, good

Say so but seldom.

Cleo.                     Not at all, good lady;

You might have spoken a thousand things that


Have done the time more benefit, and grac’d

Your kindness better.

Paul.                        You are one of those

Would have him wed again.

Dion.                             If you would not so,

You pit not the state nor the remembrance

Of his most sovereign nae; consider little

What dangers, by his highness’ fail of issue,

May drop upon his kingdom, and devour

Incertain lookers-on. What were  more holy

Than to rejoice the former queen is well?

What holier than,—for royalty’s repair,

For present comfort, and for future good,—

To bless the bed of majesty again

With a sweet fellow to it?

Paul.                           There is none worthy,

Respecting her that’s gone. Besides, the gods

Will have fulfill’d their secret purposes:

For has not the divine Apollo said,

Is’t not the tenor of his oracle,

That king Leontes shall not have an heir

Till his lost child be found? which that it thall,

Is all as monstrous to our human reason

As my Antigonus to break his grave,

And come again to me; who, on my life,

Did perish with the infant. ‘Tis your counsel

My lord should to the heavens be contrary,

Oppose against their wills.—Care not for issue;


The crown will find an heir: great Alexander

Left his to the worthiest; so his successor

Was like to be the best.

Leon.                           Good Paulina,—

Who hast the memory of Hermione,

I know, in honour,—O, that ever I            [now,

Had squar’d me to thy counsel!—then, even

I might have look’d upon my queen’s full eyes;

Have taken treasure from her lips,—

Paul.                                      And left them

More rich for what they yielded.

Leon.                           Thou speak’st truth.

No more such wives; therefore, no wife: one


And better us’d, would make her sainted spirit

Again possess her corpse; and, on this stage,—

Where we offend her now,—appear, soul-vexed,

And begin, Why to me?

(On 10/24/14 – Join me for the continuation of “The Winter’s Tale”,

ACT V. SCENE I—SICILIA. A Room in the Palace of


Fangled (adj.)

Fangled means drifting, meandering, wandering. It was sited in Shakespeare’s Antony and Cleopatra (AC I.iv.45 [Caesar said to Lepidus about the people] This common body, / Like to a vagabond flag upon the stream.)

Posthumus and Imogen by John Faed

My Poem of the Day


Slowly Dying©

You left me crying while you lay slowly dying

Stumped by a system bent on tradition

To turning a blind eye on those who need them the most

You sat in a cell

Living through hell

Day in and day out

Battered and bullied

By those who always have something to prove

Don’t ask me why I’ve relied


A system that’s always plotting

To be certain that you wont walk out talking

About the cracks in halls of justice

Once you fight their actions

That caused you

To no longer want

To be here among the land of the living

Instead you left me here crying while you lay there slowing dying

While I stand here fighting and relying on “we the people”

To bring you justice

Copyright 2014

Slowly Dying©

Felina Silver Robinson

This poem is a tribute to my niece Maryann Hamilton

Vagabon (adj.)

Vagabon means drifting, meandering, wandering. It was sited in Shakespeare’s Antony and Cleopatra (AC I.iv.45 [Caesar said to Lepidus about the people] This common body, / Like to a vagabond flag upon the stream.)


Taken from the Complete Works of William Shakespeare

The Winter’s Tale


ACT IV. SCENE III.—The same. A Shepherd’s Cottage.

Shep. None, sir; I have no pheasant, cock

nor hen.                                            [men!

Aut. How bless’d are we that are not simple

Yet nature might have made me as these are,

Therefore I will not disdain.

Clo. This cannot be but a great courtier.

Shep. His garments are rich, but he wears

them not handsomely.

Clo. He seems to be the more noble in being

fantastical: a great man, I’ll warrant; I know

by the picking on’s teeth.

Aut. The fardel there? what’s i’ the fardel?

Wherefore that box?

Shep. Sir, there lies such secrets in this fardel

and box, which none must know but the king;

and which he shall know within this houir, if I

may come to the speech of him.

Aut. Age, thou hast lost thy labour.

Shep. Why, sir?

Aut.The king is not at the palace; he is

gone aboard a new ship to purge melancholy

and air himself: for, if thou beest capable of

things serious, thou must know the king is full

of grief.

Shep. So ’tis said, sir,—about his son, that

should have married a shepherd’s daughter.

Aut. If that sheperd be not in hand-fast,

let him fly: the curses he shall have, the tor-

tures he shall feel, will break the back of man,

the heart of monster.

Clo. Think you so, sir?

Aut. No he alone shall suffer what wit can

make heavy and vengeance bitter; but those

that are germane to him, though removed fifty

times, shall all come under the hangman:

which, though it be great pity, yet it is neces-

sary. An old sheep-whistling rogue, a ram-

tender, to offer to have his daughter come into

grace! Some say he shall be stoned; but that

death is too soft for him, say I. Draw our

throne into a sheep-cote!—all deaths are too

few, the sharpest too easy.

Clo. Has the old man e’er a son, sir, do you

hear, an’t like you, sir?

Aut. He has a son,—who shall be flayed

alive; then ‘nointed over with honey, set on

the head of a wasp’s nest; then stand till he be

three quarters and a dram dead; then recovered

again with aquavitæ, or some other hot infu-

sion; then, raw as he is, andin the hottest day

prognostication proclaims, shall he be set

against a brick-wall, the sun looking with a

southward eye upon him,—where he is to be-

hold him with flies blown to death. But what

talk we of these traitorly raskals, whose mis-

eries are to be smiled at, their offences being so

capital? Tell me,—for you seem to be honest

plain men,—what have you to the king: being

something gently considered, I’ll bring you

where he is aboard, tender your persons to his

presence, whisper him in your behalfs; and if

it be in man besides the king to effect your

suits, here is man shall do it.

Clo. He seems to be of great authority: close

with him, give him gold; and though authority

be a stubborn bear, yet he is oft led by the nose

with gold: show the inside of your purse to the

outside of his hand, and no more ado. Remem-

ber,—stoned and flayed alive.

Shep. An’t please you, sir, to undertake the

business for us, here is that gold I have: I’ll

make it as much more, and leave this young

man in pawn till I bring it you.

Aut. After I have done what I promised?

Shep. Ay, sir.

Aut. Well, give me the moiety.—Are you a

party in this business?

Clo. In some sort, sir: but though my case be

a pitiful one, I hope I shall not be flayed out of


Aut. O, that’s the case of the shepherd’s son.

Hang him, he’ll be made an example!

Clo. Comfort, good comfort! We must to the

king, and show our strange sights: he must

know ’tis none of your daughter nor my sister;

we are gone else. Sir, I will give you as much as

this old man does, when the business is per-

formed; and remain, as he says, your paw till

it be brought you.

Aut. I will trust you. Walk before toward

the sea-side; go on the right-hand: I will but

look upon the hedge, and follow you.

Clo. We are blessed in this man, as I may

say, even blessed.

Shep. Let’s before, as he bids us: he was pro-

vided to do us good.

[Exeunt Shepherd and Clown.

Aut. If I had a mind to be honest, I see For-

tune would not suffer me: she drops booties in

my mouth. I am courted now with a double

occasion,—gold, and a means to do the prince

my master good; which who knows how that

may turn back to my advancement? I will

bring these two moles, these blind ones, aboard

him; if he think it fit to shore them again, and

that the complaint they have to the king con-

cerns him nothing, let him call me rogue for be-

ing so far officious; for I am proof against that

title, and what shame else belongs to’t. To him

will I present them: there may be atter in it.


(On 10/23/14 – Join me for the continuation of “The Winter’s Tale”,

ACT V. SCENE I—SICILIA. A Room in the Palace of


Perfect© by Felina Silver Robinson

A picturesque sunset
On a beach where no one knows your name
But they treat you just the same
Everyone’s like family only having nice things to say
Begging you to stay to lift a glass at the end of the day
To cheer on new friendships and to be grateful for life and all its gifts
You’re never alone but can leave when you want to no excuses needed
Space and time enough for all
The only wish is for every day to be just like this

⇒                       ⇒                       ⇒

You Are My Person© by Felina Silver Robinson

There is only one person I would turn to
One person I would share my deepest darkest secrets with
One person who could hold me up when I can no longer stand
The one with whom I feel no shame
I can take off my scarf and my lack of hair doesn’t turn you away
You pick me up when I’m at my lowest low
And I’m more than proud  and happy that “you are my person”
Through thick and thin and for better or for worse in good times and bad

⇒                       ⇒                       ⇒

There’s No One Better Than You© by Felina Silver Robinson

There’s no one better than you
When the chips are down
When there’s no one else around
When the good times go bad
When the days a downer and we need a rebounder
When thick and thin has grown into sin
And there’s nothing left to do but begin again
There’s none better than you

Note to my new readers: About my “Poem Bursts” – I give myself 30 seconds to one minute, and then write what comes to mind. This is a fun writing exercise I give myself to come up with something different from what I might usually write. I hope you enjoy the outcome.

Tack About (v.)

Tack About means to change course or to run against the wind. It was sited in Shakespeare’s The Two  Noble Kinsmen (TNK III.iv.10 [Gaoler's Daughter alone speaks of a ship] Up with a course or two, and tack about.)