One Hundred and Fifty-Five Sonnets - 54. God's Divider

The type of divider meant in the poem...

The type of remover Shakespeare meant in his W.H. Sonnet 116:

I am particularly struck by number 108 in this pair. You provoke emotions in me, yet your words appeal to the mathematic and geometric mind. You make a believer of me in these words. Your art is sure and complete here, and you need make no apology.  In number 107, you give voice the unreasoned, yet nonetheless very real need for reassurance; for the affirming words from one's love. These are both gifts to those of us who love your sonnets.

59 minutes ago, Parker Owens said:

I am particularly struck by number 108 in this pair. You provoke emotions in me, yet your words appeal to the mathematic and geometric mind. You make a believer of me in these words. Your art is sure and complete here, and you need make no apology.  In number 107, you give voice the unreasoned, yet nonetheless very real need for reassurance; for the affirming words from one's love. These are both gifts to those of us who love your sonnets.

Thank you for your warm and welcomed comments, dear Parker. While writing these Tony Sonnets, I'd occasionally experience anxiety approaching numbers from the W.H. Sonnets that have monumental significance for me (and many others too). Like 29, 55 and especially 116 -- one of the greatest same-sex love poems (thereby, one of the greatest love poems) of all times. As I had earlier with 55, I decided to flush my feelings about 116 forward and tackle them head-on. I hope the element of tribute, which I'd intended to be in my No. 108, comes through. 

Thanks again for reading these 

The last lines of 107 are so sweet and beautiful. Being loved and cared of gives probably the best surrounding to heal. And as always you mastered the art to let the reader feel easily compassion for the lyrical I.

108 raises the reader in wider spheres. And again the last two lines reverberate in me. As Parker said, this sonnet is masterful art.

Both sonnets hold this universality, which makes poems special and let you stop breathing  —  while reading   —   until you finished the last line. Thank you for sharing those with us. Muha

4 hours ago, Lyssa said:

The last lines of 107 are so sweet and beautiful. Being loved and cared of gives probably the best surrounding to heal. And as always you mastered the art to let the reader feel easily compassion for the lyrical I.

108 raises the reader in wider spheres. And again the last two lines reverberate in me. As Parker said, this sonnet is masterful art.

Both sonnets hold this universality, which makes poems special and let you stop breathing  —  while reading   —   until you finished the last line. Thank you for sharing those with us. Muha

Thank you for reading, Lyssa  I don't know the origins of the expression about the calming qualities of music, but I played off of it in my poem. Perhaps in German you have the same one, or something similar. As for No. 108, the image of God and his divider raises several images in my mind at the same time. 

Thanks again for reading and commenting so generously 

The first touches me most. For i am often uncomfortable and agitated in my own skin. Having someone say they love you, hold you at those moments is often more effective than the drugs they prescribe.  It is these times when my need for Michael comes to the fore. i just want to be close then. This poem is beautiful and very touching and personal to me.

108 .. normal as it is, you should never fear your work is incomplete ... your art is perfect ... how can something we each create not be? There are levels of goodness... but each artist's art is their own perfection.  Others may judge it not to be 'as good as' something else, but it is my piece of perfection, as yours is your own.  If you ask me to judge your work against Shakespeare's, for example, well you are very close, in my opinion. 

You are an excellent poet and writer. xo

11 hours ago, Mikiesboy said:

The first touches me most. For i am often uncomfortable and agitated in my own skin. Having someone say they love you, hold you at those moments is often more effective than the drugs they prescribe.  It is these times when my need for Michael comes to the fore. i just want to be close then. This poem is beautiful and very touching and personal to me.

108 .. normal as it is, you should never fear your work is incomplete ... your art is perfect ... how can something we each create not be? There are levels of goodness... but each artist's art is their own perfection.  Others may judge it not to be 'as good as' something else, but it is my piece of perfection, as yours is your own.  If you ask me to judge your work against Shakespeare's, for example, well you are very close, in my opinion. 

You are an excellent poet and writer. xo

Thank you, Tim, for these. What you say about No. 107 is touching and true to life. These are the moments the poem tries to capture and talk about. As for No. 108, there are varying opinions on the concept of human perfection and if it in fact can exist. The 'not good enough' feeling is double-edge, for it can cut deeper than any outside criticism and halt an artist in his tracks. But used by him judiciously, on himself, it can spur the art on; the next piece he writes can and should be better than the next. Shakespeare even vouched that he was jealous of other artists in his love Sonnets to W. H., writing how his discontentment with his own writing was goaded by "desiring this man's art, and that man's scope." And so it goes... 

As always, thank you for reading and leaving me some wonderful comments  

as always AC, it takes me time to fully appreciate your words.

107 hits so very close to home as i have a very real need to be touched, be it verbally or physically, by Phil. and not only when 

I'm sick or lonely, I have a need

As basic as bedrock shelter and food,

i need to hear or feel Him when things are going well, it lets me know that the feelings aren't false.

108 was harder for me to wrap my head around. but i don't think that any art needs apology. if the artist birthed it, it is as it should be, no? 

i'm so glad you share these, i like that they make me think 💚

On 6/15/2019 at 10:26 AM, mollyhousemouse said:

as always AC, it takes me time to fully appreciate your words.

107 hits so very close to home as i have a very real need to be touched, be it verbally or physically, by Phil. and not only when 

I'm sick or lonely, I have a need

As basic as bedrock shelter and food,

i need to hear or feel Him when things are going well, it lets me know that the feelings aren't false.

108 was harder for me to wrap my head around. but i don't think that any art needs apology. if the artist birthed it, it is as it should be, no? 

i'm so glad you share these, i like that they make me think 💚

Thank you, Molly. It's good you take all the time you need. I truly appreciate that. I suppose No. 107 is quite direct and something most if not all of us can relate to. But with No. 108, I'm paying tribute to a very special poem in my life. I still have the handout Mrs. Kennedy gave us in 9th grade lit class. I could read Shakespeare's W.H. Sonnets No. 116, and feel its power, but what exactly it was saying was beyond me. What was perfectly clear -- and perhaps why I kept the handout -- was that Billy boy was saying he loved a guy. He himself is saying there's no debate about that

Anyway, my Tony Sonnets No. 108 is me tackling head on my awe of this poem, which I only figured out once I bought a commentary explaining most of the (somewhat sexy) terms in the Sonnet. Here it is for reference. Muah

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:
Oh, no. It is an ever-fixed mark,
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering 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 proved,
       I never writ, nor no man ever loved.  

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