I love this looney sonnet so much, I want to marry it. Here’s a painting, that, like all my paintings, changes enormously before it finally reaches a place that I start liking. Sonnets work that way for me, starting dry, intellectual and then warming up into a blaze of emotion and insight.
All we need is fourteen lines, well, thirteen now,
and after this one just a dozen
to launch a little ship on love’s storm-tossed seas,
then only ten more left like rows of beans.
How easily it goes unless you get Elizabethan
and insist the iambic bongos must be played
and rhymes positioned at the ends of lines,
one for every station of the cross.
But hang on here while we make the turn
into the final six where all will be resolved,
where longing and heartache will find an end,
where Laura will tell Petrarch to put down his pen,
take off those crazy medieval tights,
blowout the lights, and come at last to bed.
I loved acting and all things Shakespeare in college. I memorized and performed 3 sonnets to a thoroughly surprised 400 level Shakespeare English class in 1987. It won me English Student of the Quarter, even though I was just mimicking Ian McKellen. That summer, I played Ophelia in summer stock’s wild west version of Hamlet. Apparently, you can drown in those cowboy boots, “too much of water hast thou Ophelia drunk.”