77 Poem by Hamnet Shakespeare

(A Tribute To Hamnet Shakespeare)

Of my pulse through unnerved blood in vein,
many a tale is weaved of the world;
my mute song in time's cruel hand
of stressed out beat in dull rhyme,
oft by what you think goes blind;
and upon the page is printed, printed
before the pen hath writ in vain,
of whom, they say, hath fled in old decrepit tongue,
the fate of those stars in my account,
I'll write them against the wall with pen-pricked angels.


(C)Hamnet Shakespeare

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All Rights Reserved.

Created: Tuesday, December 03,2013 5: 27: 49 PM
Created by: Naveed Khalid
Dedication to: Hamnet Shakespeare