William Shakespeare - 5 Love Sonnets

Wikipedia - Shakespeare's Sonnets [a partial excerpt]

Shakespeare's Sonnets is the title of a collection of 154 sonnets accredited to William Shakespeare which cover themes such as the passage of time, love, beauty and mortality. It was first published in a 1609 quarto with the full stylised title: SHAKE-SPEARES SONNETS. Never before imprinted. (although sonnets 138 and 144 had previously been published in the 1599 miscellany The Passionate Pilgrim). The quarto ends with "A Lover's Complaint", a narrative poem of 47 seven-line stanzas written in rhyme royal.

The first 17 poems, traditionally called the procreation sonnets, are addressed to a young man urging him to marry and have children in order to immortalize his beauty by passing it to the next generation. Other sonnets express the speaker's love for a young man; brood upon loneliness, death, and the transience of life; seem to criticise the young man for preferring a rival poet; express ambiguous feelings for the speaker's mistress; and pun on the poet's name. The final two sonnets are allegorical treatments of Greek epigrams referring to the "little love-god" Cupid.

The publisher, Thomas Thorpe, entered the book in the Stationers' Register on 20 May 1609:Tho. Thorpe. Entred for his copie under the handes of master Wilson and master Lownes Wardenes a booke called Shakespeares sonnettes vjd.

Whether Thorpe used an authorised manuscript from Shakespeare or an unauthorised copy is unknown. George Eld printed the quarto, and the run was divided between the booksellers William Aspley and John Wright.

Structure

The sonnets are almost all constructed from three quatrains, which are four-line stanzas, and a final couplet composed in iambic pentameter ("5 feet of unstressed followed by stressed syllables." Ex, "da-DUM" repeated 5 times). This is also the meter used extensively in Shakespeare's plays.

The rhyme scheme is abab cdcd efef gg. Sonnets using this scheme are known as Shakespearean sonnets. Often, the beginning of the third quatrain marks the volta ("turn"), or the line in which the mood of the poem shifts, and the poet expresses a revelation or epiphany.

There are a few exceptions: Sonnets 99, 126, and 145. Number 99 has fifteen lines. Number 126 consists of six couplets, and two blank lines marked with italic brackets; 145 is in iambic tetrameters, not pentameters. There is one other variation on the standard structure, found for example in sonnet 29. The normal rhyme scheme is changed by repeating the b of quatrain one in quatrain three, where the f should be.

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Sonnet 18

Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?

by William Shakespeare

Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?

Thou art more lovely and more temperate:

Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,

And summer’s lease hath all too short a date;

Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,

And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;

And every fair from fair sometime declines,

By chance or nature’s changing course untrimm'd;

But thy eternal summer shall not fade,

Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st;

Nor shall death brag thou wander’st in his shade,

When in eternal lines to time thou grow’st:

So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,

So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

Wikipedia - Sonnet 18 [a partial excerpt]

Sonnet 18, often alternately titled Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?, is one of the best-known of 154 sonnets written by the English playwright and poet William Shakespeare. Part of the Fair Youth sequence (which comprises sonnets 1–126 in the accepted numbering stemming from the first edition in 1609), it is the first of the cycle after the opening sequence now described as the Procreation sonnets.

In the sonnet, the speaker compares his beloved to the summer season, and argues that his beloved is better. He also states that his beloved will live on forever through the words of the poem. Scholars have found parallels within the poem to Ovid's Tristia and Amores, both of which have love themes. Sonnet 18 is written in the typical Shakespearean sonnet form, having 14 lines of iambic pentameter ending in a rhymed couplet. Detailed exegeses have revealed several double meanings within the poem, giving it a greater depth of interpretation.

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Sonnet 116

Let me not to the marriage of true minds

by William Shakespeare

Let me not to the marriage of true minds

Admit impediments. Love is not love

Which alters when it alteration finds,

Or bends with the remover to remove.

O no! it is an ever-fixed mark

That looks on tempests and is never shaken;

It is the star to every wand'ring bark,

Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.

Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks

Within his bending sickle's compass come;

Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,

But bears it out even to the edge of doom.

If this be error and upon me prov'd,

I never writ, nor no man ever lov'd.

Wikipedia - Sonnet 116 [a partial excerpt]

Shakespeare's sonnet 116 was first published in 1609. Its structure and form are a typical example of the Shakespearean sonnet. The poet begins by stating he should not stand in the way of true love. Love cannot be true if it changes for any reason. Love is supposed to be constant, through any difficulties. In the seventh line, a nautical reference is made, alluding that love is much like the north star to sailors. Love should also not fade with time; instead, true love lasts forever.

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Sonnet 29

When, in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes

by William Shakespeare

When, in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes,

I all alone beweep my outcast state,

And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,

And look upon myself and curse my fate,

Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,

Featured like him, like him with friends possessed,

Desiring this man’s art and that man’s scope,

With what I most enjoy contented least;

Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,

Haply I think on thee, and then my state,

(Like to the lark at break of day arising

From sullen earth) sings hymns at heaven’s gate;

For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings

That then I scorn to change my state with kings.

Wikipedia - Sonnet 29 [a partial excerpt]

Sonnet 29 is one of 154 sonnets written by the English playwright and poet William Shakespeare. It is part of the Fair Youth sequence (which comprises sonnets 1-126 in the accepted numbering stemming from the first edition in 1609). In the sonnet, the speaker bemoans his status as an outcast and failure but feels better upon thinking of his beloved. Sonnet 29 is written in the typical Shakespearean sonnet form, having 14 lines of iambic pentameter ending in a rhymed couplet.

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Sonnet 73

That time of year thou mayst in me behold

by William Shakespeare

That time of year thou mayst in me behold

When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang

Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,

Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.

In me thou see'st the twilight of such day

As after sunset fadeth in the west,

Which by and by black night doth take away,

Death's second self, that seals up all in rest.

In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire

That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,

As the death-bed whereon it must expire,

Consum'd with that which it was nourish'd by.

This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong,

To love that well which thou must leave ere long.

Wikipedia - Sonnet 73 [a partial excerpt]

Sonnet 73, one of William Shakespeare's most famous sonnets, focuses upon the theme of old age, with each of the three quatrains encompassing a metaphor. The sonnet is pensive in tone, and although it is written to a young friend (See: Fair Youth), it is wholly introspective until the final couplet, which finally turns to the person who is addressed (the "thou" in line one).

Joseph Kau suggests that Samuel Daniel had a fair amount of influence on this sonnet and that Shakespeare's immediate source of the impresa, or motto, "Qua me alit me extinguit" came from Geoffrey Whitney's A Choice of Emblems (London, 1586)

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Sonnet 1

From fairest creatures we desire increase

by William Shakespeare

From fairest creatures we desire increase,

That thereby beauty’s rose might never die,

But as the riper should by time decease,

His tender heir might bear his memory;

But thou, contracted to thine own bright eyes,

Feed’st thy light’s flame with self-substantial fuel,

Making a famine where abundance lies,

Thyself thy foe, to thy sweet self too cruel.

Though that art now the world’s fresh ornament

And only herald to the gaudy spring,

Within thine own bud buriest thy content,

And, tender churl, mak’st waste in niggarding.

Pity the world, or else this glutton be,

To eat the world’s due, by the grave and thee.

Wikipedia - Sonnet 1 [a partial excerpt]

Sonnet 1 is one of 154 sonnets written by the English playwright and poet William Shakespeare that were published in 1609 by Thomas Thorpe.  It is a procreation sonnet within the Fair Youth sequence. Nineteenth-century critics thought Thorpe might have published the poems without Shakespeare's consent; Sidney Lee called him "predatory and irresponsible." Conversely, modern scholars Wells and Taylor assert their verdict that "Thorpe was a reputable publisher, and there is nothing intrinsically irregular about his publication." Either way, this sonnet is considered the first in the sequence.

Analyzing the sonnets in this order allows for an underlying story of a love triangle to emerge. Sonnet 1 is part of the Fair Youth sonnets, in which an unnamed young man (the beloved) is being addressed by the speaker (the lover) and later sonnets also refer to a "dark lady" (thus they are called the Dark Lady sonnets). Patrick Cheney comments on this: 

"Beginning with a putatively male speaker imploring a beautiful young man to reproduce, and concluding with a series of poems – the dark lady poems – that affiliate consummated heterosexual passion with incurable disease, Shakespeare's Sonnets radically and deliberately disrupt the conventional narrative of erotic courtship". 

Because of this, Sonnet 1 instantly attracts interest as being a kind of introduction (or possibly an index) to the rest of the sonnets.

The 1st sonnet is also the first of the "procreation sonnets" (sonnets 1 – 17; including Sonnet 15 which, although it does not directly contain an encouragement to procreate is fully part of the sequence as it forms a diptych ("a hinged interweaving") with Sonnet 16—note Sonnet 16 starts with the word "But..."—which does), which urge this youth to not waste his beauty by failing to marry or reproduce. Joseph Pequigney notes:

"... the opening movement give[s the] expression to one compelling case... The first mode of preservation entertained is procreation, which is urged without letup in the first fourteen poems and twice again".

The identity of the beloved Fair Youth has remained a mystery, but most researchers believe there are two potential candidates for whom the dedication of the Fair Youth Sonnets was written: "Henry Wriothesley, third earl of Southampton (1573-1624), or William Herbert, third earl of Pembroke (1580-1630)". Both were patrons of Shakespeare but at different times – Wriothesley in the 1590s and Herbert in the 1600s. There is trouble finding out which earl it might have been because sonnets were in fashion in the 1590s but Shakespeare's were not published until 1609. [See: Identity of "Mr. W.H."]

Interpretation

In Sonnet 1, we begin to see the "love story" between the fair youth (beloved) and the speaker (lover) unfold, though not the typical "love story" of the Elizabethan era if read this way. However, each of Shakespeare's sonnets can still be read as separate from the other sonnets. In this sonnet, the speaker engages in an argument with the beloved/fair youth about procreation: "An agon, a dramatic struggle, develops between the speaker and the youth". Scholar Helen Vendler sums up Sonnet 1:

"The different rhetorical moments of this sonnet (generalizing reflection, reproach, injunction, prophecy) are permeable to one another's metaphors, so that the rose of philosophical reflection yields the bud of direct address, and the famine of address yields the glutton who, in epigram, eats the world's due".

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Biography of Shakespeare

from the Poetry Foundation

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Biography of Shakespeare

from Wikipedia [a partial excerpt]

William Shakespeare (/ˈʃeɪkspɪər/;[1] 26 April 1564 (baptised) – 23 April 1616)[nb 1] was an English poet, playwright, and actor, widely regarded as the greatest writer in the English language and the world's pre-eminent dramatist.[2] He is often called England's national poet and the "Bard of Avon".[3][nb 2] His extant works, including some collaborations, consist of about 38 plays,[nb 3] 154 sonnets, two long narrative poems, and a few other verses, of which the authorship of some is uncertain. His plays have been translated into every major living language and are performed more often than those of any other playwright.[4]

Shakespeare was born and brought up in Stratford-upon-Avon. At the age of 18, he married Anne Hathaway, with whom he had three children: Susanna, and twins Hamnet andJudith. Between 1585 and 1592, he began a successful career in London as an actor, writer, and part-owner of a playing company called the Lord Chamberlain's Men, later known as the King's Men. He appears to have retired to Stratford around 1613 at age 49, where he died three years later. Few records of Shakespeare's private life survive, and there has been considerable speculation about such matters as his physical appearance, sexuality, religious beliefs, and whether the works attributed to him were written by others.[5]

Shakespeare produced most of his known work between 1589 and 1613.[6][nb 4] His early plays were mainly comedies and histories and these works remain regarded as some of the best work produced in these genres. He then wrote mainly tragedies until about 1608, including Hamlet, Othello, King Lear, and Macbeth, considered some of the finest works in the English language. In his last phase, he wrote tragicomedies, also known as romances, and collaborated with other playwrights.

Many of his plays were published in editions of varying quality and accuracy during his lifetime. In 1623, John Heminges and Henry Condell, two friends and fellow actors of Shakespeare, published the First Folio, a collected edition of his dramatic works that included all but two of the plays now recognised as Shakespeare's. It was prefaced with a poem by Ben Jonson, in which Shakespeare is hailed, presciently, as "not of an age, but for all time".[7] In the 20th and 21st century, his work has been repeatedly adopted and rediscovered by new movements in scholarship and performance. His plays remain highly popular today and are constantly studied, performed, and reinterpreted in diverse cultural and political contexts throughout the world.

Shakespeare's Sonnets

Audiobook by William Shakespeare

THE SONNETS by William Shakespeare

FULL AudioBook | Greatest AudioBooks

Writer's Circle - Five Famous Authors and Their Strange Writing Rituals

http://writerscircle.com/2014/04/five-famous-authors-and-their-strange-writing-rituals.html

By Stephanie Ostroff

Routines keep us focused when we start drifting off course. They snap us back to reality and remind us that yes, we can do this. The words will come to us. Turning to a familiar writing ritual can help us find balance. Most authors have that one thing they do, even subconsciously, that sets the tone for a solid writing session.

Sometimes it’s as simple as creating the right lighting in a room or hearing songs from a favorite album. It’s the difference between churning out pages of your best work and wasting an afternoon staring at a blinking cursor.

At times, these rituals are taken to an extreme. Some of history’s most celebrated authors swore by unusual and bizarre rituals. It’s possible we owe many great pieces of literature to the fact that they were so meticulous in maintaining these strange habits.

In honor of the writers who embrace their quirky routines, the Writer’s Circle is highlighting a few of the oddest rituals practiced by famous authors:

1. James Joyce

Crayons, a white coat, and a comfy horizontal surface. These were Joyce’s essentials. The author of Ulysses found his words flowed better while lying flat on his stomach in bed. Since he was severely myopic, crayons enabled Joyce to see his own handwriting more clearly, and the white coat served as a reflector for light onto the pages.

2. Maya Angelou

Most writers can’t afford to check into a hotel when the urge to scribble hits, but for Angelou, it’s the key to great writing. In the wee hours of the morning she’ll book herself a room with a special request: all distracting wall décor must vanish. Armed with a bottle of sherry, a deck of cards, some legal pads, a thesaurus and the Bible, she’s spent hours crafting prose in this carefully constructed environment stripped of almost all inspiration.

3. Truman Capote

The creative genius behind In Cold Blood, Capote was a superstitious man. His writing rituals often involved avoiding particular things. Namely, hotel rooms with phone numbers including “13,” starting or ending a piece of work on a Friday, and tossing more than three cigarette butts in one ashtray.

4. Ernest Hemingway

In stark contrast to James Joyce, Hemingway was a firm believer in standing while writing. While working on The Old Man and The Sea, he followed a strict regimen: “done by noon, drunk by three.” This entailed waking up at dawn, writing furiously while standing at the typewriter, and eventually making his way to the local bar to get inebriated.

5. Joan Didion

Didion holds her books close to her heart—literally. When she’s close to finishing one, she’ll sleep beside it in the same room. “Somehow the book doesn’t leave you when you’re asleep right next to it,” she said in a 1968 interview with The Paris Review.

Favorite Quotes About Writing

All-Time Favorite Quotes About Writing

literarysite.com | article source link

bestwritingquotes

“READING AND WRITING, LIKE EVERYTHING ELSE, IMPROVE WITH PRACTICE. AND, OF COURSE, IF THERE ARE NO YOUNG READERS AND WRITERS, THERE WILL SHORTLY BE NO OLDER ONES. LITERACY WILL BE DEAD, AND DEMOCRACY–WHICH MANY BELIEVE GOES HAND IN HAND WITH IT–WILL BE DEAD AS WELL.”

-MARGARET ATWOOD

“THE ART OF WRITING IS THE ART OF DISCOVERING WHAT YOU BELIEVE.”

-GUSTAVE FLAUBERT

“WRITING IS AN EXPLORATION. YOU START FROM NOTHING AND LEARN AS YOU GO.”

-E.L. DOCTOROW

“TO ME, THE GREATEST PLEASURE OF WRITING IS NOT WHAT IT’S ABOUT, BUT THE INNER MUSIC THAT WORDS MAKE.”

-TRUMAN CAPOTE

“TWO HOURS OF WRITING FICTION LEAVES THIS WRITER COMPLETELY DRAINED. FOR THESE TWO HOURS HE HAS BEEN IN A DIFFERENT PLACE WITH TOTALLY DIFFERENT PEOPLE.”

-ROALD DAHL

“WRITING, TO ME, IS SIMPLY THINKING THROUGH MY FINGERS.”

-ISAAC ASIMOV

“WRITING IS AN EXTREME PRIVILEGE BUT IT’S ALSO A GIFT. IT’S A GIFT TO YOURSELF AND IT’S A GIFT OF GIVING A STORY TO SOMEONE.”

-AMY TAN

“THE MOST DIFFICULT AND COMPLICATED PART OF THE WRITING PROCESS IS THE BEGINNING.”

-A.B. YEHOSHUA

“I BELIEVE THAT WRITING IS DERIVATIVE. I THINK GOOD WRITING COMES FROM GOOD READING.”

-CHARLES KURALT

“WHETHER YOU’RE KEEPING A JOURNAL OR WRITING AS A MEDITATION, IT’S THE SAME THING. WHAT’S IMPORTANT IS THAT YOU’RE HAVING A RELATIONSHIP WITH YOUR MIND.”

-NATALIE GOLDBERG

“YOUR WRITING VOICE IS THE DEEPEST POSSIBLE REFLECTION OF WHO YOU ARE. THE JOB OF YOUR VOICE IS NOT TO SEDUCE OR FLATTER OR MAKE WELL-SHAPED SENTENCES. IN YOUR VOICE, YOUR READERS SHOULD BE ABLE TO HEAR THE CONTENTS OF YOUR MIND, YOUR HEART, YOUR SOUL.”

-MEG ROSOFF

R.E. Slater - And There Was No Dawn (poem)

And There Was No Dawn
by R.E. Slater

In the black of morn gay songbirds sang,

alongside warbling robins chirping “Cheer-Cheer-rio’s”,

the spring woodthrushes clucked “Twala-la-dees,”

echoing woodland grouse thumping plumping breasts.

Upon my ear dark greenwoods flew awake

by their one’s and two’s and three’s, til’

fair woods burst its blackened bounds

echoing O’ echoing sweet heavenly rings.

Chilled the air, and frosty the grounds, were

upon the deep darks that closed my bounds,

as anon did I go a ’wandering its glistens

gloriously listening sweet heavenly visions.

Yet the heralded dawn would not come,

as deep darkness held fast the steadfast sun,

as I, and woodlawn, held our gaze

along shadowy lands its nary haze.

At once I knew this darkened world

was withholden its light upon its stays,

as earth revolved and day turned night

benighting the lands of the midnight sun.

Once filling with warming light from above

each ray singing gay morning fast awake,

but not this day, nor tomorrow’s dawn,

All ruined, all lost, this darkening day.

Both land and beast, slumbering hawk and fowl,

knew not whence this source of withering chill,

that closed the eyes of an unseeing world

withholding gay songs upon its beating breast.

And there was no dawn this day of days,

and there was no sun greeting mankind’s ways,

to darkly lay morn's bounds upon the ground

denying gay haunts across fair paschal lands.

As I, and earth, felt our way upon fey paths,
across the deep darks awakening its evil,
believing goodness came when fast asleep,
but it did not come these wastelands of hate.

- R.E. Slater

April 2-5, 9, 2015; Aug 27, 2015; Jun 1, 2020;

“you made me see the stars above”

@copyright R.E. Slater Publications

all rights reserved

What If... ?

"We seek to preserve peace by fighting a war,

or to advance freedom by subsidizing dictatorships,

or to 'win the hearts and minds of the people' by

poisoning their crops and burning their villages

and confining them in concentration camps;

we seek to uphold the 'truth' of our cause with lies,

or to answer conscientious dissent with

threats and slurs and intimidations. . . . 

I  have come to the realization that

I can no longer imagine a war that

I would believe to be either useful or necessary.

I would be against any war."

- Wendell Berry, February 10, 1968 [cf., activism]

What If... ?

make love; not war.

We live in a world,
buried in hate and filled with judgement.
A world covered in fear,
fighting a war because of our greed,
or maybe to try and cure ourselves,
from the fear we feel inside.

Some days I feel so alone,
watching the war for something,
that we can only define as greed.
Some days it feels as though,
the world has forgotten compassion.
We can think of anything else,
but money, greed and our own happiness.

We make reasons,
that change like seasons,
to why we fight,
and why we kill.
First its safety, then change,
then its to help.
but all we're doing is destroying,
and watch as people lose faith.

The world we live in today is nothing simple,
we fear those who aren't like us,
we fear anything that's different.
We push people around,
make them hate themselves for what they're not.
Make them slowly fade away,
because they don't see things our ways.

Just because they're different,
sometimes even because of who they love.
Some days I feel myself losing faith,
wondering if this will ever stop,
wondering if people will just learn to love.

But some days I do find hope,
because not everything in this world is wrong,
maybe if we just remembered a little compassion,
and try ed not to judge so much,
the world would be a little better.

by one second regrets poetry









Bombs Away

Written by Jonathan Thulin and Rachael Lampa

1: The bombs have dropped and I've fallen on my face

I made my decision and I'm feeling disgraced

But I won't stop till it's done

My fire and glow will be fading out soon 

Cause my conscience broke and my heart's out of tune

but I won't stop till it's done, no I won't stop till it's done

Chorus: Bombs away, Bombs away to my heart

To my heart bombs away

2: The devil came knocking at the door of my dreams

I knew it was wrong but my mind felt so free

Now I won't stop till it's done, no I won't stop

Till it's done

Chorus:

Bridge: The battle of me and myself is exploding me

The fire is gaining on me and I'm letting it

I'm searching the heaven's and earth for the end of me

So here I am, here I am

Light the fuse cause my heart's gonna blow.





Love Can Change the World

by Aaron Niequist

bridges are more beautiful than bombs are

bridges are more beautiful than bombs

listening is louder than a lecture

listening is louder than a shout

but Love – Love can change the world

oh do we still believe that

Love – Love can change the world

oh do we still believe in

Love – Love

God is Love, our God is Love and

Love can change the world

an open hand is stronger than a fist is

an open hand is stronger than a fist

wonder is more valuable than Wall Street

wonder is more valuable than gold

repeat chorus

may we never stop this dreaming

of a better world

may we never stop believing

in the impossible

Women: God is love

repeat chorus

©2005 AARONieq Music

Brothers & Sisters
A change has come

A change in the way
we look at people and things
a change in the way we feel
are felt
see
and are seen

To feel beautiful we must become beautiful

Loving ourselves more than we love the lie
You know the one you tell yourself
to feel secure

or the one you told,
just the other day to spare his feelings...
yeah that’s it,
(it didn’t have a thing to do with compromising your security)

the one that bought
a nations love
with terror

the one they sold us
to pimp our fear
to fuel tanks
the one that bought and lost your house
and sent your man to jail

To feel beautiful we must become beautiful
as a nation
as a nation within a nation
as family and community
as humans
not given to fight
until we know
and believe in
what we are fighting for
as lovers & friends
we must choose to
make love, not war

Jessica Holter

Make Love, Not War

You hear shouts “stop the killing”, 

Though people stay so violent, cruel. 

Is there hope for the healing? 

Our nature always has been dual. 

As someone gives you pretty smile, 

The other hides his drowned eyes. 

Where there was no place for guile, 

Now wars break out, heaven cries. 

Men take their homicidal guns, 

Drops of the rain are getting red 

And The Creator dooms his sons 

To strangle in the blood they shed. 

Forgotten of the sense of love, 

They get obsessed and then resigned. 

Eternal fight – it’s not enough, 

Their clemency is left behind. 

But we can love; do you remember? 

It is salvation, perfect cure. 

Frozen hearts get brittle, tender, 

Rid of ice cover that’s impure. 

This is enveloping your skin 

Like ocean caressing shore, 

When everything becomes serene. 

People, let us make love, not war.

by Den Khaustov