Hamlet

The Prince of Denmark

Has yet to make a bark

At the so-called Danish King

When he chose to sing

He also had to ring

The bell of injustice

That bell that killed justice

Which was knocked out of Hamlet’s Mother

Queen Gertrude, who had nothing to bother

And couldn't care less for Hamlet’s father

Upon the deepest hours of grief

Came the story of the murder in a brief

Way: Where the Ghost of Old Hamlet is saying

“Young Hamlet, while I’m playing

You should be slaying

The man who was paying

To watch my soul decaying

And my mind laying

Please spare your mother

She is not the one to bother

But rather the brother of your father”

Unsure, Hamlet caught

The chance, in which he sought

To ensure the murder as a thought

rather than its part as if it were fought

Unfortunately,

Hamlet avenges the murder

Only to realize that innocent lives played it further

Polonius, the fool of the plays

who had cliches and awful says

Interrupting the young prince on a certain day

He chose to remove his life with a pay

When Hamlet regained the thought to slay

Him on the instant spot

When the play begins to become hot

Rosencrantz and Guildenstern

came to the corner of their turn

At the hands of Hamlet’s fern

To meet the end of their obvious urn

Once again,

Hamlet’s scheme of obsession

provoked the anxiety of a session

In which its part was absolute depression

To actually watch his mother not care

For her past with his father’s fare

Is another way of saying:”Stay in the filthy air”

Hamlet’s true shock

Came from his mother’s deceitful block

Of the past and the present lock

On the future King of the stock

Gertrude may not have known such carelessness

But she will soon find out the true form of recklessness

In the exact time of great hopelessness

When the time for this plan is set and done

Everything else will be slain and spun

Gertrude might have neglected this chaotic take

But she will soon learn that this grave mistake

Will force her heart to say that she was a fake

A fake feeding on the food of the snake

Which will, one day, eat her cake

She may laugh herself to death for now

But once the moment of truth has arrived

The only thing that she will laugh at is her disgrace

The disgrace that will kill her face

And shame her pride into finding a hiding place

Alas, the price of spying

is met with the check of frying

To which Ophelia took when she was crying

Her heart away as she saw her father dying

Singing idiotic songs to nearly see herself lying

Close to the ground, while eyeing

Her demise was meant to tell her:

‘I was trying”

But the madness of a broken heart

Can only drift its pieces apart

Until the sad fight finished its part

and ended with an enchanted work of art

To show Ophelia’s death

As a death of the heartless preys

Much to Laertes’s dismays

Who sought to end Hamlet’s plays

With a series of constant frays

Which needed Claudius’s assistance

to destroy Hamlet’s chance of existence

By Hassan Dahab