The 99 Poem Challenge
Fox-Trot-9

95. Crown of Sonnets — Stalker Shakespeare

1

Before it's done, let's bring our Shakespeare back
And see how he reacts upon the scene
Of prince and mistress. Veiled in shadows black,
Our poet hides behind the shadowed green
Of trees and bushes, hidden out of sight,
Whereat the fountain splashes its sweet music
Against the silent brooding of the night,
Enough to turn a priest and nun agnostic!
Our poet cannot here the words they say,
Nor can he judge expressions at a glance,
Nor can he hold his jealousies at bay
Upon this cloak-and-dagger circumstance:
      And yet he knows the nature of the heart;
      A heart can change and therefore break apart.

2

A heart can change and therefore break apart
Upon the sight of two eloping friends;
Imagine how it makes poor Shakespeare start,
His mouth agape, his widened eyes, which sends
Him on the verge of tears to know his prince
Is now embracing her, a fallen Eve.
Oh, can't our youthful prince see through her lies, since
She aims to dupe him with her make-believe?
Oh, can't he take the hint and drop her there,
When every guise she dons is full of holes?
Oh, can't he see beyond her face so fair
And peer into the blackest of all souls?
      And yet, the prince holds close upon her word,
      His heart held captive like a cagèd bird.

3

His heart held captive like a cagèd bird,
Our prince now follows her, while she beguiles
Him like a subtle she-wolf lures a herd
Of sheep to stray with all her charming wiles.
And so our poet stalks and capers out
Of sight within the shadows of the scene;
His heart now fills with every lurking doubt
That haunts him with the thought of things obscene
Shared betwixt two lovers incognito;
Our moving triad walks the hidden alleys,
A budding Zeus led on by sultry Leto, *
While our own jealous poet barely rallies
      His fading self-control to stay his malice:
      The sinner, thus afflicted, seeks surcease.

4

The sinner, thus afflicted, seeks surcease
From guilty passions that assail him;
The mistress, thus anointed, spoils the peace
Within her soft embraces that avail him
With feminine allures to gain his lease.
The poet, thus unbalanced, folds in doubt
Upon the sight of them sharing a kiss,
Before they enter her apartment. Out,
Out, out, dear prince, before it is too late!
And yet the mistress lures him to her place,
Whereat our poet 'gins to conflagrate **
Upon the thought of such a carnal chase!
      Our couple, thus preparing, start their bout;
      Our poet, thus assuming, starts to sprout.

5

Our poet, thus assuming, starts to sprout
As every fiber of his body quivers,
As though the two are always wont to flout
Their loves. The bedroom's snuffed-out light delivers
A confirmation of the closet play
That is about to start, a private show
Of carnal pleasures when the light of day
Lies hid beneath the cloak of night. What woe
Succumbs our poet rhymes can little say,
For jealousy's a tricky sentiment
To capture in these rhymes without cliché,
Forming this sonnet's only detriment.
      Despite the bard collapsing, woebegone,
      These fickle rhymes shall grow, continue on.

6

These fickle rhymes shall grow, continue on
As if some master pen compels the drama
Towards another scene, in which the pawn
That is our bard will strut his melodrama
In one outburst of fine soliloquy;
So far, we've listened to his wondrous lines
Enraptured by his wordy brilliancy,
As we bore silent witness on the sidelines.
Our sympathies are with you, suff'ring poet;
You need not bear alone your agony;
We've listened to your countless vows; we know it
Can feel as if your deep paternity
      Imprisons you to rue such bitter cost,
      That you should feel yourself so tempest-tossed.

7

That you should feel yourself so tempest-tossed
Upon the hidden show of mingling lovers,
We have no cause to doubt; this world is lost
Upon such windy of pleasure, which discovers
A pope to be a rake, a nun a mistress,
A saint a weak example to the urge
That binds us to our senses in distress,
Compelling us to pleasure out and purge
Our overflowing passions with each stroke,
Until we linger in the afterglow
Contented with the embers that we stoke,
At least for just a while to quell our woe:
      But we must get our readers back on track;
      Before it's done, let's bring our Shakespeare back.

(To be continued...)

A/N: A Crown of Sonnets is a series of 7 sonnets linked by repetition of the last line of each sonnet as the first line of the next sonnet and the last line of the seventh and last sonnet is the first line of the first sonnet. This linking technique can be applied to other verse forms of sufficient number of lines, like the Nove Otto, for example.

* Sonnet 3: Leto = wife or mistress of Zeus and mother of Apollo and Artemis in Greek mythology.
** Sonnet 4: Conflagrate = (v.) to burn.

Meter: Iambic pentameter
Rhyme: (Shakespearean) ababcdcdefefgg