Shakespeare's Sonnet 130

                           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 sounds.
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.

Spring 2019 I took a Forms of Literature class that ended up just being pure poetry. I was tasked with explications and found the class to be relatively easy. I ended the semester with a 98 with only four grades. This sonnet from Shakespeare was feature in the last couple of weeks of class. Just myself and one other classmates made it in to our eight AM class, much to the joy of my professor. By this point the class was not interested in the work and often I had the joy of being the classmate to speak up because no one else was going to answer. I feel strongly that my high grade had a bit to do with not leaving my teacher hanging. Now I realize there was a lot more to learn about Sonnet 130 and I wish I knew the right questions to ask at the time.

What I did not learn about this poem when it was first introduced to me was that it is called a contra blazon. What I did pick up on and learn about the poem that first day was the warm and fuzzies.  It is a poem packed with imagery that sounds like nails on a chalk board, however, it is wrapped up so sweetly at the end that any duckling is going to feel like a swan if it was read to her. That is the beauty of this poem for me. We often forget the power of words and the importance of having a healthy relationship with reality can be for our self-image. It is a breathe of honesty that only the most scathing of poetry tends to give us. Somehow this sonnet skirts the lines of insulting by making a comparison to other poets blowing too much smoke and it really works.

Six months later and I am smack in the middle of learning about Petrarchan sonnets and getting blindsided with new terms like "Blazon" and "imitatio" and before my professor can even bring up Shakespeare, I remember Shakespeare's weird sonnet! So here is the skinny on why this Sonnet 130 is really cool: it is an excellent example for literature as a living, evolving history.
As British poets start feeling the need to express themselves they hear about this Italian poet Francesco Petrarcha. This guy is writing in a strict structure and meter while longing after some super unavailable girl, as far as we know, she is a member of proto-TLC singing "I don't want no scrub, a scrub is a guy that can't write no poems to me. Hangin' off the passenger side of his best friend's stead, tryin' to rhyme at me". Thomas Wyatt goes wild for this form and starts translating and tweaking (imitatio-ing) Petrarch's work to better express his own weird obsession with someone/thing. His versions (and others) are so similar that at first glance and readings, it is like you are just reading a poets attempt to figure out the right line. Nope, they're all just knocking each other off in lieu of making meaningful or respectful attempts at not being a scrub towards women.

Shakespeare is like, "Dude, you guys, these ladies are not all that great. That one has super wire-y hair and halitosis." Shakespeare knows a thing or two about rhyming and structure. Perhaps he even thinks he knows that most women just want some honesty (I am giving you so much credit right now Shakespeare. If there is a literary holiday party, you better invite me). Shakespeare lays down the truth of what some real women look like and says, /I think my love as rare / As any she belied with false compare/ (13-14) and we all swoon. A list of a "beloved's" features that are not weird similes to animals or creepy naked babies with arrows = the contra-blazon.