Witch and Memories

Thyself thy foe, to thy sweet self too cruel, Juliet says.

She smiled to put off the mascara; eyes needs to be wrinkled.

She let her hair rolled down; touching her hips; grey they are.

Audry whispers now is the time that face should form another.


She looked at the mirror; she smiled, softly at first then wryly.

She looked into her eyes in the high-powered bulb at the head.

Blue they are; the lips which are fantasy to many, men and women,

Dark red, Portia comment though coral is far more red than her lips’ red.


The time was long ago when she was the face of the plays;

She was Ophelia, she was Lady Macbeth, she was the Lady Shakespeare

As they used to call her. So should the lines of life that life repair,

Desdemona asks from the mirror; it was she at twenty, two score years ago.


The bell rang; she put out her teeth into the glass and mumbled,

Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day, the eldest witch smiled back at her.


Written for

Written for Day 27 of National/Global Poem Writing Month 2019.

Prompt:

I’d like to challenge you to “remix” a Shakespearean sonnet. You can pick a line you like and use it as the genesis for a new poem. Or make a “word bank” out of a sonnet, and try to build a new poem using the same words (or mostly the same words) as are in the poem. Or you could try to write a new poem that expresses the same idea as one of Shakespeare’s sonnets.

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