Parody upon Shakespeare

To sleep, perchance to dream

Hark, what light upon yon window glows

Tis William

William who?

Shakespeare, you twit!

Come now William,

Thinkest thee the only William? Oh my! The ego

Doth thou now have cause to hurl insults

Into my most confounding dream?

How come you to attend my worrisome thoughts?

Bringest thou fresh ideas to assist my literary stump?

Forsooth, I do declare

Thou art sorely in need of pomp and flair

Thine pompe et flair truly requires much

Facon de faire les choses

Begone, ye old bard

Fly quickly from my slumber

Lest I throttle thee for tormenting me

With wistful remembering of my tortured talent

Fear not, thine siesta soon shall be restored

Once more for your rest within the 'Arms of Morpheus'?????

I found myself immersed in verse after verse of prose

Styles of writers, poets and many artistic beings as they arose

Bidding me look, listen and learn

But above all, they admonished at their turn

To thine own self be true

Whenever thou yet tend to become ever blue

Find your style, your words, mind your own voice

Matters not what others think should be your choice

I now must bid thee adieu, talent within thee I found

Lies latent, in cavernous places hidden and bound

And so, with a parting and puzzling literary missive

To Stratford-upon-Avon hied the bard expressive

See you all later witches, bitches, collusive and obsessive

Disturb never more my restful beauteous slumber so elusive

I now sleep, perchance to dream of much ado about nothing

Peace out! No more fussing!

N.A. 12/21/22