How to Mess with Perfection - A Sonnet

The prompt at Poetry Jam this week is “How to”.  I had been working on a sonnet parody of William Shakespeare’s My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun (Love Sonnet 130) for quite some time and seized on the prompt as an incentive to finish the piece off – my “take” on the prompt being:  How to Mess with Perfection.

Love Sonnet 130 features prominently on virtually any list of top Sonnets, Romantic Verses and Humorous Poems (often placing first) and, although Shakespeare published 154 sonnets, Sonnet 130 is one of a very few that have entered deeply into the consciousness of our culture.   For many, William Shakespeare, is the greatest writer the English language has ever known.  But, never let it be said:  I don’t enjoy a challenge.  If Shakespeare could turn the less than enchanting characteristics of his mistress into a love poem, could a woman (centuries later) take a, seemingly, unendearing quality in a man (such as snoring) and do likewise.  (The idea:  that one can grow to miss snoring – when it stops – came to me from a woman who had recently lost her husband, a snorer, of many years.)

And so, without further ado (the etymology, of which, I gather, comes to us via Mr. Shakespeare’s Play “Much Ado About Nothing”) I give you:

My lover sleeps as placid as a cloud 

My lover sleeps as placid as a cloud 

That floats white, round steam engine locomotion. 

To say, his snore cacophony is loud 

Would underplay the scale of the commotion. 

A buzz saw, by comparison, sounds swell 

And kinder, I’ve no doubt, on jagged nerve 

Than the “snuffle-snort-wheeze-splutter-whistle” hell 

A bug upon the earth does not deserve. 

But, sure as stars in heaven, it would seem 

The nightly song, is fated to persist; 

And blast the sound effects on every dream 

So that I wonder if it might be missed.  
     He breaths, he lives and so I let him be
     For he is all the joy on earth, to me.

 note:  (by way of refresher) 

My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun (Sonnet 130)

My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun
Coral is far more red than her lips’ red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damasked, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound; 
I grant I never saw a goddess go; 
My mistress when she walks treads on the ground.
     And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
     As any she belied with false compare.

  

photo:  Steam Engine Coming Through - W. Bourke

© 2014 Wendy Bourke

who am I?

most people, I think, 
want to be remembered

with fondness  . . .  when they pass

but alas:

many mortals, that I know

fall, considerably short of a wholehearted,

unfeigned, true good conduct “kudo”

so . . .  

either they are eternal optimists,

for I have heard it said:

you're only remembered, with affection,

after you are dead

or . . .  

they are apprehensive souls, who fear

to take flight and look back,

with eyes wide open,

at their misguided, sorry plight –   

too blinded by the darkness to admit

the joyful light:  when  . . .

the world is full of metaphors

in doors and walls and floors

and windows –

that look out upon the mystic green,

enduring sea and heavenly constant sky

one only has to take it in

to question . . . who am I . . .
  

“The eyes are the window to your soul” – William Shakespeare

notes:  the prompt from Poetry Jam this week is “Identity”.

In putting together some thoughts to get ideas percolating on the prompt “Identity” from Poetry Jam, I did a bit of looking around on the Internet regarding the most common response when people were asked how they would like to be remembered – in effect:  how they want their identity to be perceived.  The vast number (by far the majority) of responses indicated that most people want to be remembered as a good person:  kind, gentle, happy (smiled and laughed) interested (interesting and creative), loving (loved my family and friends and had love in my heart), worked hard, did my best.

I laughed when I shared this with my husband.  Because given some of the conduct I have witnessed over the course of my life (lying, cheating – don’t get me started – ha!) there has got to be some kind of wild disconnect between how people go about living their lives and how they would like to be regarded once they are dead.  Think about it, if most of humankind would like to remembered as a good person and set about working to achieve that goal – what a wonderful world it would be. 

photos:  Pavilion Window (looking out on weathered rocks, jade green water, mystical plants and architecture that integrates Taoist Yin and Yang features that emphasize that harmony lies in balance at the Dr. Sun Yat-Sen Classical Chinese Garden in Vancouver) – W. Bourke 

In the Petals – W. Bourke

© 2014 Wendy Bourke