Pam Webb

a writer's journey as a reader

Archive for the tag “sonnets”

22 Sep 2025
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Bard Bits: See You Later Summer


When the Montana Shakespeare Troupe arrives in August to our fair town, it is a generally accepted acknowledgement that summer is on the wane. Pleasant weather still lingers, although it is a bit chill in the early morn and evening. There remains the essence of summer.

And then the calendar chimes out its equinoxal announcement that summer is past and autumn is now upon us. I’m not quite ready to bring in the patio furniture yet.

Shakespeare eloquently presents a metaphorical passing of one’s age in his often quoted Sonnet 73:

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.

Back when in my AP teaching days, this was a poem we studied for its rich imagery and underlying message of mortality. However, bypassing an analysis (I hear that sigh of relief), I do want to focus on the last two the lines, the ending couplet.
In the previous lines the speaker has expressed his concern how he is aging to his lover (maybe even a child–oops, that’s analysis) and in the ending couplet we see the volta, or turn, that indicates a change of mood. Here the speaker interposes the thought that though he might be aging in his own eyes, and in perhaps his lover’s eyes, it is this very state of aging that should initiate an even deeper love for the narrator.
In other words, though summer (his youthfulness) is diminishing and hints of winter are coming (touches of grey in hair), this season of in between, autumn, should be even more cherished as it is the in between time before winter is fully realized.

Yeah, what Shakespeare said.

I welcome spring, enjoy summer, and embrace fall. Fall or autumn still has the warmth of summer, yet it ushers in harvest and nature’s graceful transition into a foliage showcase of beauty. Since retirement I am taking advantage of the gentle warmth of September afternoons. Previously (20 years worth) I wouldn’t get home until after the shadows filled my backyard and I would mourn having missed out on the sunshine having been inside a building all day (okay, mourn is a bit extreme, but I really disliked having to wait until the weekend to enjoy the fall sunshine).

Hoping you are appreciating the fall weather.

Posted in Reflections and tagged , , , , ,
21 Apr 2025
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Goats and Monkeys: the other aspect of Shakespeare


National Poetry Month is still among us for a few more days and I would be remiss not to mention Shakespeare and his sonnets. There–duly mentioned.

I am sorely tempted to give a brief lesson about the sonnet, something I miss teaching from my AP English Lit days. BUT (which is an indication of the turn in the sonnet mood or message known as the volta–see what I did there? Yes, I did squeeze in a brief lesson), I shall refrain and instead spotlight that other aspect of Shakespeare.

No–not him being a playwright. Did you know he started out writing sonnets and not plays? That he considered himself more poet that playwright and that he inserted many a sonnet into many of his plays? There are four sonnets in Romeo and Juliet alone. The prologue that introduces the play is a sonnet (watch for the volta–hint, hint “which” works as well as “but”):

Two households, both alike in dignity,
In fair Verona, where we lay our scene,
From ancient grudgeParenthesis break to new mutiny,
Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.

From forth the fatal loins of these two foes
A pair of star-crossed lovers take their life

From forth the fatal loins of these two foes
A pair of star-crossed lovers take their life;
Whose misadventured piteous overthrows
Doth with their death bury their parents’ strife.
The fearful passage of their death-marked love,
And the continuance of their parents’ rage,
Which, but their children’s end, nought could remove,
Is now the two hours’ traffic of our stage;
The which if you with patient ears attend,
What here shall miss, our toil shall strive to mend.

There I am talking about sonnets again. Well, it is National Poetry Month. And being such a famous, well-known poet it is difficult not to have spent at least a bit of time about how the Bard rocked sonnets.

Sonnets. Plays. He did write them supremely well. We still read them, watch them, recite them, discuss them and you know what? Just watch a master recite the master discussing April–very appropriate, wouldn’t you say?

The cat is a nice touch.

Here I meant to talk about the other aspect of Shakespeare, and sonnets distracted me. A worthy distraction, true that. Yet, (another word that works as a volta, since I am changing the direction of this focus), beyond the perfect prose and poetry Shakespeare is so admired for there is a darker, mmm, not quite the right word–ribald, yes, Shakespeare has a definite ribald side to him: his insults!

Throughout his plays his characters lob the cheekiest insults at one another. Keeping in mind the majority of those attending Shakespeare’s plays were of the down-to-earth crowd, known as “groundlings” because they pay a penny to watch the performance and stood for the entire time, often shouting out their commentary to the stage actors. Stands to reason then why Shakespeare inserted earthy lines into his plays. He knew how to play to the crowd.

Here are some examples. They start at mild and run the course from G to PG13.

  • “Neighbors, you are tedious. ” —Much Ado About Nothing, Act 3, Scene 5
  • “[You] peevish baggage.” —Pericles, Act 4, Scene 6
  • “[H]e has not so much brain as earwax.” —Troilus and Cressida, Act 5, Scene 1
  • “You are not worth another word; else I’d call you knave.” —All’s Well That Ends Well, Act 2, Scene 3
  • “Out of my sight! Thou dost infect mine eyes.” —Richard III, Act 1, Scene 2
  • “Bloody, bawdy villain! Remorseless, treacherous, lecherous, kindless villain!” —Hamlet, Act 2, Scene 2
  • “A knot you are of damned bloodsuckers.” —Richard III, Act 3, Scene 3
  • “You rise to play, and go to bed to work.” —Othello, Act 2, Scene 1
  • “Heaven truly knows that thou art false as hell.” —Othello, Act 4, Scene 2

For more Shakespeare insults try this link:

Or you can create your own insults with this link. This is a classroom activity we used to do during our Shakespeare unit in English. It would culminate in an insult-off between a student and myself with the object of hurling such a created invective that the other person would cry–actually it usually ended up with everyone laughing.

So, a tribute to Shakespeare’s prowess with prose and poetry and a solid nod to his poison pen when it came to hurling insults.

Posted in Reflections and tagged , , , , , , , , ,
21 Mar 2023

Bard Bits: Sonnet 18 (and then some)


Think of sonnets and Shakespeare naturally comes to mind. He wrote more sonnets (154) than he did plays (37). Granted, plays are more involved in writing effort, then again, sonnets are so, so absolutely soul bearing and that involves effort in its own way. Shakespeare most certainly laid bare his feelings in his sonnets. He also set tongues wagging with speculation as to who he addressed the sonnets.

Image: Ghost Cities (discusses the Dark Lady)

A bit of sonnet background–

In Shakespeare’s day the sonnet was an art form that young gentlemen tried to perfect as a means of showing off their commitment and wit. Wit meaning intelligent use of language. The format is challenging. Each line must have ten syllables with an iambic pentameter of unstressed/stressed beat. The rhythm sounded like one’s heartbeat: da DUM da DUM da DUM da DUM da DUM. Shakespeare probably won all the sonnet comps in his day. He was good. Really good at sonnets. He still is considered the best.

Image: No Sweat Shakespeare

It’s thought Shakespeare wrote in iambic pentameter because he was sharing his heart with his audience (aww…). Another thought is that it is easier to remember Shakespeare’s words (his plays employ this meter as well) since the heartbeat is a natural part of being human, like breathing. Speech is supposedly in iambic pentameter–not sure if that applies to just the English language or all languages. It would be interesting to try scanning the meter on a French or perhaps a German conversation.

The English or Shakespearean sonnet (we won’t delve into the Italian sonnet which is credited to Petrarch from whom Shakespeare borrowed and revised his sonnet form) has fourteen lines: three quatrains and a couplet. The first part of the English sonnet presents a problem, perhaps how does one find the ultimate comparison when describing a favored personage? The latter half is an epiphany, indicated by a BUT, or a YET. Then the couplet provides a witty or profound statement in which the audience says: “That Shakespeare. He sure has a way with words.”

Shakespeare’s most popular sonnet (or seems to win all the popular votes) is Sonnet 18. The writer is trying to find a unique and memorable way to express how special the subject is. Nothing seems to work. Sunny summer days can end up too hot. And summer does eventually end. The epiphany? The writer figures out how the personage will always be remembered and will never die. Never die? How is that possible? This is where we say: “Oh that Shakespeare. He absolutely has a way with words.”

So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,

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

That “gotcha” ending is what makes Shakespeare so memorable.

After sharing the poem with my students I would pause and let the ending sink in. Looks of comprehending what Shakespeare just did to create the ultimate remembrance appears. Well, most got it. Okay, they might have not be have been as impressed as me, but some of them did get it. That couplet showed how 400 years later people are still remembering this person that Shakespeare wanted us to remember.

And then I would ruin it all by saying Shakespeare was supposedly writing to a young gentleman, not to his wife or an admired lady. That post is for another time.

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.
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23 Apr 2016
2 Comments

POM: Yo–Shakespeare


I’m not aware of any other literary celebrity whose birth and death dates are the same day. That just Billy the Bard even more special, doesn’t it? This year is being touted as the Shakesyear, due to the span of 400 years  of celebrating his influence since his death in 1616. I certainly couldn’t let National Poetry Month slip by without celebrating Shakespeare on his birthday. Here is one of my favorite sonnets:

Sonnet 29 read by Matthew Macfayden

Posted in national poetry month, poems, Poets, Reflections, Shakespeare and tagged , , ,
29 Mar 2016
16 Comments

Oh, for a muse of fire


As a senior English teacher I have the distinction of being the last of a long acquaintance with school literature for my students. Many, if not most students, come in with a surly attitude about English. My goal is to get that frown turned upside down. While I don’t resort to extremes, I have been known for some surprising antics to liven up class. I inject movie clips, silly voices, and theatre activities into the lesson plan.

I enjoy teaching English because I’m actually a librarian at heart (budget cuts). To infuse the love of books is a mission, not a vocation.

At the end of the month my students will have studied a handful of sonnets, examined three Shakespeare plays, watched one live performance of Hamlet, analyzed two of the Bard’s speeches, and have performed one of the speeches from a play. They will be so full of Shakespeare at the end of this unit they will leak iambic pentameter onto their desks. This might cause consternation with the custodians, yet it is all part of my mission to turn these Bardihators into Bardinators. I would be Bardilating even if it wasn’t Shakesyear.

My extra effort Barding might be paying off; I think I might be making headway. We began with Taming of the Shrew, a farce that they could relate to because of Ten Things I Hate About You, and then we went onto a tragedy. I surprised them with Othello, a complicated study of villains and heroes and racial issues that resonates with my students even after 400 years it was first performed.

We moved onto my personal favorite: Hamlet. We explored the first eleven lines together and they realized Shakespeare’s language does not present the barrier they thought they would encounter. We prepared for the climatic duel of act five by going outside and learning  stagecraft fighting with duct-taped yardsticks.

I teach the same lesson six times, slightly modified, due to being the only senior English teacher this year, so my Shakespearience becomes even more enriched over the years because the math computes to a lot of repetition of knowledge. I’ve always said the best education I’ve received is from teaching.

As for students and their absorption of English? I wonder how much impact I will have. Will students fondly or disdainfully remember my efforts to interject the muse of Shakespeare’s fire into their lives? Will there be Renaissance Man moment, when they will recite a few lines or carry the meaning of a studied play with them into their future life? I hope so.

For now, my librarian-teacher  heart will continue to thrill when students make comments like: “I really like this. I really like digging into this Shakespeare stuff.”

My fire is amused.

image: pintrest

Posted in education, Literature, Reflections, Shakespeare and tagged , , , ,
23 Apr 2014
6 Comments

Poet Appreciation #8: William Shakespeare


*Gasp* Billy Bard is celebrating his 450th birthday on the 23rd. I advise those attending the birthday party to stick to the crumpets and steer clear of the kippers, as they didn’t do ol’ William any good at his own birthday din celeb.

Would William be surprised to know how many Bardinators there are coasting about due to his most marvelous ability with words, wit, and retrofitting old tales into something more appealing?  Probably.  Ben Jonson knew his contemporary, and somewhat rival was “a man for all time.”

What better way to say “Happy Birthday, Bill!” than with a couple of his sonnets.

First, the Mona Lisa of his career:

SONNET 18

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

 

Who hasn’t heard this lovely tribute of admiration? No matter how many years I’ve taught it to high school students they still “get it” and appreciate the trick ending of the couplet.  That’s what I like about Wm’s wit: it’s subtle and winking.  I think he’s winking right now as it’s being read. I’ll let Michael York recite it for you.  He gets it for sure, this is a loving tribute (don’t get shook up about it being for a man, like my freshmen do–this was supposedly to William S.’s patron, the guy who paid the bills so Wm could keep writing. Is that any different from dedicating a song or book to an agent, sibling, parent, or editor?)

Another tribute sonnet is perhaps not as complimentary, yet I think it showcases Shakespeare’s ability to take the accepted medium and poke fun at how poets tended to extol too vigorously the glories of a person, thus rendering him or her to be removed from humanity–it’s difficult to climb down off a pedestal that’s built too high. This particular sonnet at first sounds like a bash session; however, after a step back moment, it’s clear to see Shakespeare extols the real beauty of his love.  He loves this woman, warts–that is, frizzy hair, and all.

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 damask’d, 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.

This video captures the satire of those mushy sonnets while intones the general attitude of love.  Alan Rickman and typography mash up at its best.  Wouldn’t you want Alan Rickman reciting a sonnet to you?  Check yes.

 

 

These are only a drop in the sonnet bucket.  Wills wrote 150 sonnets, far more than the 38 plays we know to be roaming about.  So why do we mostly associate him with being a playwright than a poet?  According to many historical sources, he considered himself to be more of a poet than a playwriter. Hmm, it’s easier to turn a play into a film than a sonnet, I suppose.

Once again, Happy Birthday, William!

image: facebook.com

 

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