I have never yet
Seen a regret.
Though I have felt
A pang
That sprang
Into my heart and dwelt
There, unknown by all but me.
StillI can not be free
Of the nagging voice
That whispers, “you had a choice
And where hoist on your own petard.
This lesson hard
You should learn,
Do not conscience spurn
When it cries,
He who acts thus dies.
All regrets and sighs
Will not repair the broken shell.
This truth I tell,
Actions misjudged may end in hell”.
“For mine own good,
All causes shall give way. I am in blood
Stepped in so far that, should I wade no more,
Returning were as tedious as go o’er”.
(Macbeth: Act 3, Scene 4).
—
The extraordinary and new
Does, through
The passing of the years
Engender ordinary tears.
Although normalisation may not lead to crying
Inside something is dieing,
The soul
Perhaps?
Then, at first unnoticed the whole
Edifice begins to collapse.
Masonry imperceptibly crumbles.
There may be mumbles of regret
And yet
Brick after brick tumbles.
Once a piece of the building has gone
A man may carry on
Down the same path
With a weary laugh,
Though the loss of a single brick
May his conscience prick.
Some say
In a place far away
The gods play dice
And we humans pay the price.
How easy to blame some external force,
“Matters will take their course.
We must to fate submit
And our teeth in the face of adversity grit”.
Macbeth his dagger drew
And ran king Duncan through.
It was his own shame.
No witches where to blame.
We make our own fate,
Though oft we hate
The fact however true,
It was we alone, who ran King Duncan through.
Waking to the alarm
He thinks on the charm
Of woman (not here).
Yet the imagined ideal
Does, I fear
So often obscure the real.
Absence makes the heart grow fonder.
Girls ponder on jewels
While fools Misconstrue
What is true.
Hamlet will gather Rue
Ere the day is through.
—
In Shakespeare’s “Hamlet” it is, of course Ophelia (not Hamlet) who gathers rue.
The search for the ultimate thrill
May chill
Or kill
The fickle heart.
Better to leave dark
Yearnings to art
Where they can do no harm,
Than down the primrose way start.
The charm
Of a thing
May oft times bring
A fleeting pleasure,
But come the set of sun
When our fun is done
The sting
We feel, then repent at leisure.
—
“Knock, knock! Never at quiet. What are you? But this place is too cold for hell. I’ll devil-porter it no further. I had thought to have let in some of all professions that go the primrose way to the everlasting bonfire”.
Macbeth. Act 2, Scene 3.
A question for you. Can anyone name the novel in which the following dialogue takes place?
“Sir, on hearing you speak I am reminded of Shakespeare”.
“Really! My conversation has the ring of Shakespeare about it!You compliment me. To which heroic character do you refer?”
“I refer sir to Macbeth and the lines voiced by him as he nears his end, namely
“a poor playerThat struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more: it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing”.
I am giving away free copies of my collection of short stories, The First Time to anyone who can answer the below question. (In order to participate you will need to download my collection of short stories, The Suspect And Other Tales, which is free in the Kindle Store until Saturday 29 November). Everyone who guesses correctly will receive a free electronic copy of The First Time. Entries must be received on or before 12 PM (UK time) on Saturday 29 November. To obtain a free copy of The First Time please answer the following question,
Which story in The Suspect And Other Tales derives it’s title from a Shakespeare quote and what is the name of the play from which the quote derives?
Please e-mail your answers to newauthoronline (at) gmail dot com (the address is given in this manner to defeat spammers).
In The First Time I explore why young women enter the world of prostitution while other stories look at what happens when the
worlds of sex and technology collide.
In “The First Time”, the first story in this collection, we meet Becky a young graduate who enters the world of prostitution in order to clear her debts.
The story looks at the effects of prostitution on Becky and her fellow escort and friend Julie. In “The Pain Behind the Smile” Issie presents her friend,
Peter with a birthday cake, however things are not what they seem.
In “Lucy” the acquaintances of a crusty old bachelor speculate how he could attract and retain the affections of a beautiful young woman. As with “The
Pain Behind the Smile” things are far from what they seem.
“Hemlock” explores what happens when machines attain the capacity to appreciate high culture. The story is both humorous and deeply serious.
To download The Suspect And Other Tales free please go to http://www.amazon.co.uk/The-Suspect-other-tales-Morris-ebook/dp/B00PKPTQ0U (for the UK) or http://www.amazon.com/The-Suspect-other-tales-Morris-ebook/dp/B00PKPTQ0U/ref=cm_cr_pr_bdcrb_top?ie=UTF8 (for the US).
From the darkness we came and to the darkness we shall return.
The above words came to me when I woke up today, on a gloomy UK morning. Looking them up on the web there are variations on the quote but not the precise wording given above.
We come from the dark womb then, sooner or later we enter, as Hamlet so eloquently puts it “The undiscovered country from whose bourne no traveller returns”. Am I in a dark mood? Not particularly. The quote popped into my head this morning and seemed appropriate to share it.
How not to write? Now that is a big question!
The primary rule when writing is to express oneself honestly. Write what you need to and let the consequences go hang. I am not encouraging aspiring authors to go out of their way to offend people. Such an approach is purile and smacks of the school boy who uses filthy words in order to gain a reaction from adults. What I am saying, to quote Shakespeare is “this above all to thine own self be true”. There is no point in writing if the author is constantly looking over their shoulder to see if anyone is wagging fingers in his or her direction. To write under these constraints will, almost certainly result in the production of stilted compositions. Writing with integrity may result in criticism, some of it expressed intemperately so you will need to develop a duck’s back so that the immoderate criticism runs off you without causing major problems. Intemperately voiced criticism does hurt, however if you believe in your project the pain will be worthwhile.
Don’t write while you are tired. Almost always this will lead to you producing work which is below the standard of which you are capable. If you feel your brain wandering or your eyelids heavy with sleep take a break, go for a walk or simply go to bed! Coming back to your writing with a fresh mind will make all the difference to the quality of the final composition.
I can feel myself tiring now so I’ll stop. My fatigue is entirely my own fault and results from me getting up at 6 am! Good night or do I mean good morning!
Sounds are incredibly evocative. My home is some 25 minutes walk from several train stations. Occasionally, when the wind is in the right direction and most often at the dead of night when the traffic has ceased I hear the whistle of a train. It is a mournful sound which induces in me feelings of sadness. I am not sure why this should be the case. Perhaps it flows from my perception that there is something about the sound, in and of itself which is evocative of sadness. The speed of the train also reminds me that life is passing by rapidly, we are here now but very soon, like the speeding night train we will be lost in the darkness which for me is symbolic of death.
At other times I hear the hooting of an owl as he hunts in the park next to my home. It is an erie sound which has, in many different cultures been associated with bad luck or death. In Macbeth it is the bird of ill omen which portends the death of Duncan
Lady Macbeth: ”hark! Peace! It was the owl that shrieked, the fatal bellman,
Which gives the stern’st good-night”.
Whenever I hear the cry of an owl it is of lady Macbeth’s words that I think. However, having said that I love listening to the owl as he hunts for his prey. I can stand for long periods by my open window harkening to his call.
Some sounds produce feelings of rest and contentment. I love listening to the sound of running water. It is hypnotic and soothes me when I feel tired or stressed.
Of course the lack of sound can be wonderful. To sit in tranquillity reading or just relaxing is very necessary to the human spirit.
K Morris - Poet 