thisengland | Some poems.

Hullo, all. Big, BIG Harry Monmouth buff at your service (nimble-footed madcap princes of Wales FTW). Wrote a couple poems 'round a half a year ago about the two Plantagenets I've been fortunate enough to portray onstage. Malheureusement, they're in French. As there seems to be a correlation between interest in Shakespeare and interest in languages, however, I'll post them anyway with the hopes that someone will appreciate them. Anyhow, I'm unspeakably enthused that this community even exists (props to

haradwen for referring me) and I hope to shoot the breeze with you delirious weirdos in the near future. Here's a health to the company to a boost in activity.

héraut de la mort

dites-moi, ô roi-poète, pourquoi vos yeux sont vides,
songez-vous à la belle france loin de cette prison grise
où, noyée par sa peine immense, vous pleurez jeune isabelle ?
dites-moi, ô roi-poète, pourquoi vous baissez la tète,
songez-vous aux grandes hontes que vous avez souffertes ?
revivez-vous le moment où vous voyiez la glace brisée ?
dites-moi, ô roi-poète, pourquoi vous vous cachez le visage,
songez-vous aux erreurs graves que vous n’avez jamais vues
qui maintenant suppurent sans cesse et intensifient vos chagrins ?
dites-moi, ô roi-poète, pourquoi vous vous recroquevillez,
quelle force d’homme a démonté votre noblesse et majesté ?
quelle être vicieux vous a dépouillé de la dignité humaine ?
la luxe flamboyante ne subsiste plus, mais la bravoure survit toujours,
car quand il n’y a que la grande descente, l’honneur devient la porte,
donc dites-moi, ô ancien roi-poète ! comment affronterez-vous la mort ?

que feras-tu, cher guerrier

que feras-tu, cher guerrier, jeune lion, petit héros ?
que-feras tu quand le gros vieillard s'éclaffe ?
quand il te saigne et il te provoque ?
quand il sourit diaboliquement et bénit son mode de vie ?
que feras-tu, cher guerrier, jeune lion, petit héros ?
que-feras tu quand ton père te rappelle ?
quand il te force à retourner à la cour ?
quand il t'exige la signification de sa place et de la tienne ?
que feras-tu, cher guerrier, jeune lion, petit héros ?
que-feras tu quand la terre commence à brûler ?
quand l'esprit de la révolte et du combat persiste dans l'air ?
quand ta main aspire à l'acier ?
que feras-tu, cher guerrier, jeune lion, petit héros ?
que-feras tu quand les nuages se séparent au-dessus du champ de bataille ?
quand tu attrape l'œil sauvage de l'autre?
quand il lève son glaive et charge ?
que feras-tu, cher guerrier, jeune lion, petit héros ?
que-feras tu quand les trompettes braillent ?
quand la victoire est la tienne mais quelque chose te manque ?
quand ton destin se démêle, attendant ton choix d'action ?
que feras-tu ?.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

You played Richard II! Awesome. Also, welcome aboard. :)

And Harry Monmouth in both stages of his Shakespearean life. x]
Thanks for the welcome; glad to be here. Brilliant comm!

Yes indeed, but Richard II is the one on whom I have a perverse fixation. ;)

Haha. I see. Would love to hear the perverse reasons behind the perverse fixation.
Was perhaps the production I regretted most in my time with that troupe, due, in no small part, to the ridiculous costume. My sleeves were longer than I am.

I approve of historically accurate sleeves. Possibly I spend too much time in the fourteenth century, because all that shit looks normal now.

The perverse reasons are manifold, and I suppose I could say it's the language or the politics, or the subtly-executed genderfuck, or Derek Jacobi's performance or Fiona Shaw's, or the United Airlines commercial I saw as a child with the "sceptred isle" speech in it, or the fact that it was the first text on which I did really serious academic work (my thesis in undergrad, generated by my weird reaction to it by which I didn't love it at first and I thought I would and needed to work through that), but probably the lasting and most resonant reason is that it gave me a framework through which to vocalize my depression.

(Also, this reminds me that I'd planned to start a "why I love my favorite Shakespeare play" thread on my own journal -- inspired by this (http://www.penguinclassics.co.uk/static/cs/uk/10/minisites/shakespeare/readmore/whyilove01.html), in which my own favorite is left out!)

Edited 2009-04-05 03:25 (UTC)

Oh, historically accurate sleeves are perfectly normal to me. But that doesn't make them any less irksome. Christ. Give me a tunic I can move in.

The verse is sublime, I'll give you that. I s'pose I just become bored easily when everything is so beautiful.

I'm surprised no one listed 'Lear'. Although it's not my favourite, it seems to be the favoured play among many of my cohorts (thespian and academian). You should cross-post the finished product here or at the very least let me know when it's up and running. I'm always eager to learn about personal rapports between Shakespeare's works and the people who appreciate them. In a non-stalkerish way.

Being king means you don't have to move! Which is the point of the sleeves in the first place!

The verse is sublime, I'll give you that. I s'pose I just become bored easily when everything is so beautiful.

Bah. Now you sound like my students. I think the thing that makes the beautiful verse work is that it's about all sorts of unbeautiful things.

I will probably do the thread this evening once I have gotten to a point where I feel loopy enough to say vaguely uninhibited things about my vaguely unnatural relationship to Richard II.

Ha! How Richard of you to say so. A King should move more than his people if he wants to expand his lands and pwn his barons. But I'll concede to the notion that looking pretty is important, too.

Don't mistake me. I love beautiful verse about unbeautiful things (such as corpses - oh, Baudelaire). I pity Richard, but I don't sympathise with him, and I think that subtle distinction's at the crux of my indifference -- and not necessarily dislike! -- to the production in which I acted.

*Excuse the double notification.

In re: prettiness, I think it is just about time to use this icon.

I pity Richard, but I don't sympathise with him, and I think that subtle distinction's at the crux of my indifference

Fair enough: de gustibus non disputandem. Actually, I didn't either, the first time I read the play (although he does have a lot of my worst qualities taken to extremes -- like, you don't actually have to kill me to get me to stop talking, and that is the only way to shut Richard up), but I kept poking at the play because I thought I would. Then I had a depressive episode the summer after college and a lot of it suddenly felt a lot more resonant.

And what an appropriate icon it is.

I may not sympathise with Richard, but I certainly sympathise with your attachment to him and his play. Props to Mr Shakespeare, who is remains underrated in spite of his renown.

Some poems.

weep thou for me in France

Re: weep thou for me in France

Re: weep thou for me in France

Re: weep thou for me in France

Re: weep thou for me in France

Re: weep thou for me in France

Re: weep thou for me in France

Re: weep thou for me in France

Re: weep thou for me in France

Re: weep thou for me in France