Looking into Shakespeare's 154 Sonnets

Apologies, I’m tardy, just a bit.

But maybe you’ll enjoy the meter that

I wrote this simple post in as a skit

to also practice sonnet-writing, stat.

You see, I read through Shakespeare’s many sonnets.

Enjoyable, for sure, but lengthy too.

Some resonated more than others, honest.

I’ll illustrate my full thoughts out to you.

One hundred fifty four works Shakespeare wrote,

with many storylines hidden within.

I see why one may call Shakespeare the GOAT.

I truly feel as if he went all-in.

With that, I’ll highlight some that I find cool,

for honestly, I think that sonnets rule!

To start off, Sonnet 20's fascinating:

“A woman's face with Nature's own hand painted.”

I think the work describes a man, conflating

his femininity and self, untainted.

The speaker lies attracted to this fellow,

but feels deep loss, sayin’ “me of thee defeated,”

For mother nature built the man but mellow,

yet still, a man the speaker needs to treat him.

“But since she pricked thee out for women’s pleasure;”

Since nature made your body for the women…

“Mine be thy love, and thy love’s use their treasure;”

Not flesh: I’ll love you solely in emotion.

The poem explores attraction past the labels,

and many great ideas does this enable.

138 holds insights too,

Some relevant to modern day affairs.

Avoiding mutual and painful truths:

relationships held just by lack of care.

Where both pretend that everything is fine,

illusion feels more safe than honesty,

because what harm could come from always lying

when truth might crack the fragile scenery?

So he believes her false, and she believes 

his softened image: youth where age has grown; 

each wears a mask the other one receives, 

and calls deception something “kindly” shown. 

Yet neither breaks the lies they both maintain:

to speak the truth would solely bring more pain.

And many sonnets hold a common theme:

The main antagonist of life is time.

Like 18, 19, too: a similar scheme.

To leave this concept out would be a crime.

A theme alike is writing will prevail: 

Words will remain despite the death of all.

In sonnets 60, 64, the tale

of things ephemeral teaches nothing small.

In 55, the man describes in time:

“Not marble, nor the gilded monuments 

Of princes, shall outlive this powerful rhyme;”

Above all, writing will stay dominant.

I find his works defining of the era.

I’ll sign off now—regards, L.J. Lamera.