Greetings, one and all.
There is a tide in the affairs of men,
Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune;
Omitted, all the voyage of their life
Is bound in shallows and in miseries.
On such a full sea are we now afloat,
And we must take the current when it serves
Or lose our ventures.
Brutus to Cassius in JULIUS CAESAR
Greetings, one and all.
Shakespeare theatres and festivals are reopening all over the world, folks. Check out the ones near you.
Greetings, one and all.
Just one last point about our poetry award. Muspa is an international, non-profit entity. In other words, the award is open to all countries and nationalities.
Greetings, one and all.
Please note that submissions for our poetry award (Muspa) can be on any subject. All we ask is that Shakespeare be mentioned either in the title or the poem itself. Happy summer!
Greetings, one and all.
The poets are on fire! We have started receiving entries for the annual poetry award we launched a couple of months ago.
Let your ink flow (or your keyboard ring)…
If you need to refresh your memory about the submission requirements, please visit our blog and follow the links to MUSPA.
Greetings, one and all.
Musketman Shakespeare joined Instagram last month. Just as he does on this site, he will be following everyone who follows him on Instagram. See you there!
Greetings, one and all.
A red letter day coming up. We are going to launch an annual poetry award later this month — on the first day of spring. Mark your calendars!
Greetings, one and all.
Opening paragraph of THE CORISCO CONSPIRACY:
My father served as a courier in the Catholic underground and was, therefore, always privy to a plot or two to assassinate Queen Elizabeth. I followed in his footsteps from the age of ten until that fateful night in November 1605 when our dream of an all-Catholic England was brought to an end with the arrest of Guy Fawkes.
Happy New Year, one and all.
Here’s hoping you all had a memorable virtual Christmas season, and wishing everyone of you the very best throughout 2021.
Greetings, one and all.
That time of year thou mayst in me behold
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,
Bare ruin’d choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.
In me thou see’st the twilight of such day
As after sunset fadeth in the west,
Which by and by black night doth take away,
Death’s second self, that seals up all in rest.
In me thou see’st the glowing of such fire
That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,
As the death-bed whereon it must expire,
Consum’d with that which it was nourish’d by.
This thou perceiv’st, which makes thy love more strong,
To love that well which thou must leave ere long.
SONNET 73 — Number 5 of my top 10
