Of all the rumors, all heated debate   

in reference to his authored state;

his works, his loves, the sordid strife

that make up anecdotes about his life

No one can know, the true tale expired.   

Yet how can you not help admire

that person’s verve to catalyst such storms

four hundred years past the popular norm?

Now dancing in go-go boots angelic

I’m sure he roots our lives pathetic.

I’m sure he chuckles in haloed glee

At all such rampant bardolatry.

In reverent esteem we hold him–

(he who may or may not have penned them,)

but don’t we cherish more juicy reports…

the tales, the gossip, the jealous retorts?

And stuck in my brain, my favorite piece

(seems engraved wherein by telekinesis),

spoofed by Ben, the family motto,

“Not without mustard”… a tale apropos.

– the weirdgirl

Just for the record, I do think Shakespeare wrote his plays.  Thank you, KC, for inspiring this one!  (I especially liked “go-go boots angelic”!)    – wg