2015 Shakespeare Selfie: Shortlist, Grades 10­12 Category Neha Rahman​
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(WINNER) Shakespeare Character:​
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Caliban Topic:​
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Missing and Murdered Aboriginal Women This Isle I cannot see myself in chrome and glass Not in the screen, the gloss of magazine. Art all afeared? Then prove it, kill me thus: Erase the final trace of me, in words, In image, mother was a witch, and dad A devil still. I borne of Frankenstein. The pain it is to see oneself in beasts, In monsters, dug from well disposèd graves. O would that I might simply tear away This cloak, the shade of night which covers, eats Me whole, fragmented, pick away this skin. Alas tis sewn to me in permanence, Impermanence, it was one more white lie. That Prosper they had bid me filled my isle With noise, with light, with white, and white and white They built a ladder, then they chained my feet The tops of mountains only take to snow. The heights, the wealth, that I will never know. Hard work translates to toil without an end, A slave of modern day, cease to pretend. My people, say you see? Mere liver spots to me. Their skin is coffee, chocolate, never brown. A decadence to swallow, guzzle down. A concrete strip they built to split my isle. Is it not they who steal my sisters while, Their metal monsters roar and poison air, While buried are my sisters everywhere. If not so feared, now we’re commodified. A beauty in this shroud of mine? Not seen, Nor spoken in a tongue so red as mine. So long ago, did I whitewash my mouth. I speak to Prosper, and I cry to dream: If here would lie a list of all twas stole, T’would stretch the earth from pole to cursèd pole. If here would lie all penance henceforth made, Of grass, t’would cover barely half a blade. My image beads like blood on chrome and glass, Like it, I’m made of stuff that’s built to last. Matthew Tran​
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Mercutio Topic:​
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Reports on "fragile circuitry" in the teenage brain which allows for risk­taking and anxiety Texting, so vexing Come now dear Romeo, why art thou so grieved This new groove upon your fair face, it does Lay shadows upon thine countenance so bereaved And intent, such as the tiger waits to pounce on his prey Or the hawk spies vigilant for his meal, upon That contraption strange indeed, that Iphone. I see that you have been texting, so does The youth of today seem to communicate Yet such a miracle which might strengthen bonds Doth instead increase distance. What now when You await fair Juliet’s reply so sweet, but kill yourself With grief and anxiety at the slowness of A forthcoming response to this maddening sickness That rages inside, which drives men mad, that eats away At your insides, that sets upon you a wave Of misery and that pangs that anxiousness and excitement Do bring in equal measures to pain and disappointment, So is that sweet agony, that awful ecstasy Of awaiting a text message. Why Romeo Remember you not the fineness warm evenings outside did bring Of the thistles by the lake, of the great outdoors, The branches o’erperching the heads of slumbers Grateful to be together simply, without a screen To divide, and dull, and make us merely numbers. Has a screen a face? Has it emotions, Passions, features, and all the small tics That make us who we are? Can it convey Any magnitude of our thoughts, though it may Indeed transmit our messages, it can never Realize the full depth and extent of our feelings. How precious twas, the unsung joys of Being face to face, and talking from mouth to ear Ne’er with a barrier to shield our true thoughts In all their twisted glory and veiled sadnesses. For they are more true and faithful, as the sun May ever rise to greet us with a fellow’s face, And the moon may rise, to bid us cuddle With loved ones at our side, than any screen, Any device, any number of likes will grant. True I talk as if an archaic and olden one, yet how now would I enjoy the pleasures that technology would offer To supplement true happiness in its own sadness. We are now afear’ed of our own kind, And we masque behind profile pictures, making Our own lives, yet forsaking and leaving them behind. Jake Stephens Shakespeare Character:​
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Oberon Topic:​
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Indiana Religious Freedom Bill 101 A Hypocrite's Sorrow “I perchance to have oft pondered, pausing ‘midst pain and pandemonium, as to airy subject; mortals. Those creatures of such brief vigour but boisterous mentality’ Such stock they put into their Laws, their Codes, their iron Compacts. But what are such treasured allowances but so many ink­stained scraps of vellum? Yet, ah! Hot debate, hardship, hullabaloo! Over a solitary mousey clause burrowed in a verminous Indiana passage’ A cruel right, ‘twould be given it seems, For butcher, baker, candle­maker alike to refuse their offerings Swayed not by yellow gold but by red anger. To kiss of Wrath as their master, to leave miserly Greed a spinster. So they would declare with attitude most roisterous, most joyous. When approached by a spectre of men who do couple as one. For Party so loathed, it ‘tis an offending matter indeed (Or so it ‘twould present to a humble færy) Hence the uproar, tempestuous as clashing clouds! For two to love is unseemly, say They. They; syndicates, consortiums, partnerships; gilded guilds of commerce. Soulless are they, with a clinking master of one. Yet worship of a Lord most Heavenly they would proclaim. Ach –it is a strange dichotomy, for was it not said that one may only grant fealty to a singular Master? Hateth of one, loveth the other. Great contest has been won and waged. Banners tossing to Liberty, Sodomy, Familial Decency too! The lungs of ballot were filled; before an exhaled gale ‘twas merchants’ Black­wetted Vellum Scrap driven, As before the slithering slings or slapping sandals of a pursuing column. Ten­thousand bigots looked on in mauve dismay; archaic hopes and dreams smashed ‘pon the rocks of cruel, unfamiliar Today. The battle doth go on disregardin’; Hatah’s gonna’ hate, society retardin’. Vict’ry ‘twas hardly evitable; methinks wise that Tyrant who possesses tremulous fear of Future.” ­Without Wax; Oberon, King of Fairies Kyra Lavoie Shakespeare Character:​
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Romeo Topic:​
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The Kardashians Juliet's Fallen Behind *This is Romeo telling Juliet that she needs to work on her look so that she looks like Kim Kardashian. Ah my love, Juliet, thou art my one and only. Thy mind is as a never ending ocean, Thy love as my palace, But, my angel, thy beauty is…..meh. Juliet, thou fine as could be, But thou see, I have watched 120 shows by now. Beauty dost live outside as within. Kim’s behind as boastful as the sun. Juliet. O my sweet Juliet. Dost not thou yearn for such flawlessness? Kim, lively with elegance. Her cheetah print robe, O, it is perfection. Her exotic simplicity is majestic. Juliet, thou art my love, But thy beauty requires help. I will help. Friar can help as well. He has material in the back. Thou flat behind shall be no more!! Thou shall be able to twerk with joy. Ah my love, Juliet, thou art my one and only. Kim has defeated you Though thou shall make a comeback! Thou dost not need gold and pearls, Nor shiny metal things. The only thing that you need is for your bottom to joyfully sing. Kim’s wiggles and bounces as she skips along. Dost not thee wish to balance a champagne glass on thy derriere? If thou shall follow with my plee, I shall be your Kayne. Soft! Perhaps, my Juliet, if all tends to work out, Thou and I shall have a show! No citizen shall ever hear about Kimye events, Or Kourtney and Khloe’s latest quarrel. We shall rule MTV! They shall call us “Keeping up with the Montagues” I adore the Kardashians, But, think, that could be us. I shall not sit on my rear as thee achieve all the publicity. I shall make thou an appointment for t’morrow. Thou shall rule. Thou shall be majesty of all majesty’s. Thou shall be perfection. I must ring! But soft! Shall I ask, for curiosity sake, If Friar can make thine lips Like Kylie Jenners? Nay, soft. Thou shall just use a cup! Laura Lupoi Shakespeare Character:​
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Shylock Topic:​
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Kardashians Keeping Up With the Merchants My family has been judged and ridiculed And for what? Because my half­sister has large lips And my sisters and I have unusually big butts. Mocked by society who say our body parts are fake Do you judge me because I have more money than you? The main target for an onslaught of insults Just because my last name is Kardashian. Hath not a Kardashian eyes? Hath not a Kardashian hands, organs, limbs, senses, affections, passions? Kardashians eat the same caviar as you Are hurt by the same ugly discount handbags Subject to the same bad marriages that last for only 72 days Healed by the same million dollar shopping trips Warmed and cooled by vacations to Bora Bora and Deer Valley As any other middle class person is. If you prick us, do we not make ugly crying faces? If you tickle us, do we not giggle? If you poison us with department store clothes Do we not die from pure disgust? And if you wrong us, is it not inevitable That we will sue you for all that you have. Kardashians are people too, Albeit much richer and prettier than you. So when you insult my family and me, Saying that naming my daughter North West is a joke And that Yeezus isn’t actually a God, I will exact my family’s wrath on you, And tell you that you’re basic and irrelevant, Just as you would do to us Kardashians, If we were to accidentally let it slip, That everyone can tell your Michael Kors purse is a fake. Faith Marcelino Shakespeare Character:​
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The Duke Orsino Topic:​
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Online Bullying Orsino's Digital Grieving Heart If rumours be the food of hate, type on, Send me excess of it, that, surfeiting, The assumptions may pile up, and so spread. That tweet again! It had an evil fall; Oh, it scrolled o’er my eyes like the dry sight That sees upon a bank of comments, Gossip and giving odor. Enough, no more! ‘Tis not funny now as it was before. O demon of hate, how cruel and sly art thou, That, notwithstanding thy texts per minute, Receiveth as the inbox. Nought sends there, Of what validity and pitch soe’er But sends into messages and low price Even in a minute. So full of lies is gossip That it alone is more enough for me. O, when mine eyes did see Malvolio’s post, Methought he filled my heart of pestilence. That instant was I turned into feces, And my esteem like fell and cruel hounds, E’re since pursue me. O, he that hath a heart of that devil To send this grudge of hate but to a Duke? How will he speak when the principal Hath killed the lies of of all hatred else That live in his, when Twitter, and Facebook, These social sites, are all supplied with one self king. Away before me to thy guidance’s office; Anon, ere I march to thou and use my fists. Melanie Katz​
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Ophelia Topic:​
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The Reign of Taylor Swift Ophelia's Reflection on the Reign of Taylor Swift A queen of heartache and goodbyes, naive and broken. She does not let this define, restrain or cripple her, But uses these memories like rusty old tokens To trade in for lyrics and melodies that maintain her Sanity, dignity, integrity: these I covet Once in my possession, now lost in my mind’s abyss. I’ll be singing her songs until the moment I plummet Down into the silent waters where I won’t be missed. A queen of backlash and criticism, mocked and despised. She does not let this consume, defeat or degrade her, But bandages these stab wounds with words that disguise The blood in a myriad of verses that obtain her Respect, admiration, idolization: I crave these, yet Even before I went mad, they were maddening to attain. I’ll be singing her songs until the moment I plummet Down into the silent waters where I’ll say my last refrain. A queen of knavish fools and tyrannical kings, overruled. She tries not to let them blindside, backstab or drown her But once he leaves she feels violated and ridiculed Until she plays a chord and writes a song that regains her Self­esteem, openness, hopefulness: he stole all to admit He never loved me and sent me to a nunnery to pray. I’ll be singing her songs until the moment I plummet Down into the silent waters where my sins will wash away. I was never a queen, except in my mind’s eye, I confess. With blind foresight I let him use, dupe and betray me, But in hindsight, I know he was my greatest happiness And the reason I fell so far down and so ungracefully Fast, regrettable, forgettable: the anthem of my life Drums on as my funeral procession walks by you. I was singing her songs until the moment despair was rife Now there’s silence in the waters where I drowned in rue. She dealt her cards and played the queen; I was only played the fool. Love was all I had to live for and the game was all too cruel. Hannah Schmakeit​
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Edgar from King Lear Topic:​
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Cyber Bullying Poisoned Words O’ Hark! Complex this net of words, a web Of spells, a witch’s dream, addicts our minds, Poisons our words. Beauty, a plague of minds, A rot for kids, their brains prepared for war. The gap between their thighs crucial. Their bones Must show their gleam and shine. Thinspo, fitspo, Bodies of shame, no one person is free, Targets of men, women, and kids. Beauty, Nary a lone topic for text. O’ strength And speak, simple for people shoot bullets To break the esteem’s walls and hit the heart. The fair maidens, frequent the Grim does see, Yet they are “merely words” on glowing walls, “Miniscule” chats. O’er the sea, people Do fight for more. For rights, for freedom's name, For country strength, and more, bullets do fly. At home, in rooms, battles are fought behind Electric walls, nameless faces, programs, And keyboards. Taps are swings of burning scythes, Who cut all down. All words replaced with tears, Who run from smiled emoji eyes, silent Messages run along with them and direct The public slaughter. Lives are lost weekly, But nary games for fun but blood. Betwixt People, knowledge is known, effects of words Poisoned. Those false in words do cut apart Kingdoms, households, destroy nature’s wishes, And wreak havoc on lives. Honest people With truthful words are quashed by malice’s shout. Permanent noise isn’t the lone answer, People may speak against the fight and give Respect to all, for all deserve to live In bliss and joy without internet hate. Mackenzie Giesbrecht Shakespeare Character:​
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Viola ­ Twelfth Night Topic:​
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Transphobia/ The Leah Alcorn Suicide Leah's Twelfth Night of Transphobia Leah left no part of herself with him. What means her lady mother? Fortune forbid her outside appearance hath pleased her! She made good view of Josh, indeed so much That sure methought her eyes had blinded her, For she did speak in negative tones. She loves her, sure! The cunning of her passion Invites her in these ‘curing therapies’. What of her boyish ways? Why, she sent her none. Leah is the girl. If it be so, as ’tis, Poor lady, she were better love a dream. Transphobia, I see thou art a wickedness, Wherein the mouthful enemy does much. How easy is it for the proper false In people’s hardened hearts to set their forms! Alas, their narrow­mindedness is cause, not we, For such as we are made of, such we be. How will this fadge? Her mother loves Josh dearly, But alas, she shares none of this for Leah, And she, mistaken, seems to dote on him. What will become of this? As she is woman, Her state is desperate for acceptance. As she is woman, now, alas the day, What thriftless sighs shall poor Leah breathe! O society, thou must untangle this, not I. It is too hard a knot for only me to untie. Ariel Menta​
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Ariel (The Tempest) Topic:​
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The uprising of ISIS Recurrence Awakening ­ A Spirit's Pondering A push, a prick, a prod away from an Archduke affair – the house of Ferdinand. A shove, a stab, a strain away from a disturbance in Poland – the march of Germans. May peace never be reality in the pocked, ripped and scratched skin of our world? Why, even Prospero mustered strength enough to forgive Alonso. Is it not seen that from unrest blossoms unpleasantries akin to Ypres's choking death and Auschwitz's torturous chambers; To the volatile nucleus to poison blood upon the flag, and just South, the conflict of mind and power driven by unique rock; To the Egyptian waters that suffered such trauma from control; And to the future narrowly averted between hammer, sickle, stars and foreign stripes? From such devotion and faith, one could not foresee the violent rise of rebellion and defiance. Even I, bound by evil in branches, then magic, can still see what power faith beholds, what virtue patience delivers, and what gift obedience repays. From doctrine to dominance, the volta has come to pass – an eternal Reign of Terror to ensue; An incorruptible dawn, a fresh genesis of indefinite prosperity for all – until the unsinkable regime meets its iceberg; For, to slay evil is to absorb it: Cleansing waters are poisoned, the martyr, Marat, is born; Spine and tendons severed, the hero, Haines, is departed; A blade between shoulder and chin, the incorruptible, Robespierre, is vanquished; A shadow in the lens, the leader, Chechen, wields blades ever more. Lamentable, it remains to be that: As we wish for peace and love, As he cries for lost Lenore, As one turns the push to shove, Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”