deepundergroundpoetry.com
A Second Best Bed
inspired by the historical facts that William Shakespeare stopped writing in the last years of his life and left in his will his “second best bed” to his wife, Anne Hathaway
The lingo of the self
grown out
and expanding,
and pushing past
the peanut smell
and piss,
the globe of London
in some year
as yet unremarked upon;
the lingo turned to language
and made us.
And yet in its last years its god
retreated from the firmament,
sat up in a Tudor bed
and reading Ovid to itself.
Becoming cruel
in all its god’s regrets
it lingered on the lingo of itself
and testified in such a way
as if to hurt a wife
would be some dark restorative.
Not even that.
It was, perhaps, just lashing out.
A dead Hamnet of agony,
no longer strong enough to make
a resurrective Danish Prince,
but just a last cry out.
The lingo of the self
grown out
and expanding,
and pushing past
the peanut smell
and piss,
the globe of London
in some year
as yet unremarked upon;
the lingo turned to language
and made us.
And yet in its last years its god
retreated from the firmament,
sat up in a Tudor bed
and reading Ovid to itself.
Becoming cruel
in all its god’s regrets
it lingered on the lingo of itself
and testified in such a way
as if to hurt a wife
would be some dark restorative.
Not even that.
It was, perhaps, just lashing out.
A dead Hamnet of agony,
no longer strong enough to make
a resurrective Danish Prince,
but just a last cry out.
Published 23rd Jul 2022
Author's Note
“That for which we find words is something already dead in our hearts. There is always a kind of contempt in the act of speaking.” - Nietzsche, The Twilight of the Idols
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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Commenting Preference:
The author encourages honest critique.
23rd Jul 2022 6:56pm
Your passion for the written word illuminates brightly in your clever & existential verses. There is a theory that a mute/private language may be the seventh sense. Write & shine on.
Thousands of pages have been written questioning if Shakes was the actual wordsmith. Such a waste of time eh? Little is known of AH I believe, but wouldn’t it be such a beautiful irony if she was the actual author. V Woolf imagined the life of his play-writing sister Judith, who was ignored and hung herself at cross roads. Maybe the “second best bed” is a fond reference to their marital bed?
There was a London pub, where you were only served if you ordered in Shakespearean lingo. Slightly pretentious, but kind of cute & good for their business! Only time I’ve ever used the sentence “two frothing ales, my buxom wench” in my life.
Thousands of pages have been written questioning if Shakes was the actual wordsmith. Such a waste of time eh? Little is known of AH I believe, but wouldn’t it be such a beautiful irony if she was the actual author. V Woolf imagined the life of his play-writing sister Judith, who was ignored and hung herself at cross roads. Maybe the “second best bed” is a fond reference to their marital bed?
There was a London pub, where you were only served if you ordered in Shakespearean lingo. Slightly pretentious, but kind of cute & good for their business! Only time I’ve ever used the sentence “two frothing ales, my buxom wench” in my life.
If I die having been able to order frothing ales from a buxom wench, I’ll die happy! Thank you for your kind and intelligent comment, Rob. I didn’t know that Woolf had written such a piece! I may look that up. I keep meaning to return to her, but I’m a little afraid of Virginia Woolf, yuk yuk.
24th Jul 2022 00:12am
