Bard Word Poem by Niran Olaitan

Bard Word



Shakespeare’s corpse is not rotten
THEY love to roast the old man’s flesh and
Set the world on fire

Yes. To roast raw language
Into idiomatic ex-pressures, like
The very Shakespeare’s eye of the mind

It is no crime
Our world is a clime of hot theft
The bard’s meat being served in meetings

Yes. In formal gatherings
THEY call it straightforward language, prose
The bard’s sweat watering their blurry tongues

Even now, uncooked words from the bard’s head-sight
Lay unfinished
On the world’s literary plate

Then, if the bard’s language was NOT
Our world would have been bleak
With emotions buried in caskets.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
Close
Error Success