Closing the door to my room, i curl up at the foot of the bed. stressful straining thoughts swirl and swarm around in my head making me dizzy. Glancing at the backpack on the floor i decide to take out a few of shakesphere's sonnets to see if there was any chance of me grasping the deeper meaning on my own. "SHALL I COMPARE THEE TO A SUMMER'S DAY." the paper so frail, partially crinkled was my challanger. Shakespere's Sonnet 18. I've read it before,when we analyed it in class and many times on my own trying to grasp the semient that i seemed to be missing from this "Oh so beautiful sonnet" as my Shakespere lit. teacher would say.
This staring contest with this page wasn't getting anywhere. what was so special about this poem? i thought. what made it so beautiful?
"You are going to fail this course." i recall my proffessor's words. "If you continue to go without help." i recalled his crisp stern tone as if he already decided on my marks if i were to decline his "suggestion." Ofcourse i took the card with the tutor's contact infomation, but i didn't give him an answer on weather or not i'd decide to accept his help.
i released Sonnet 18 from my grasp and decided to "analyze" another sonnet.the next sonnet i was glancing over was sonnet 102."My love is strengthen'd, though more weak in seeming; I love not less, though less the show appear."
"that's stupid!" i think. if you love her then why show it less, if she loves you back why would she get bored with your love at all? why waste your time writing these sonnets anyway, it's either she loves you or she doesnt. i roll out on the bed stuffing the pointless sonnet under my pillow and away from my eyes.
"How can the heartless understand the deepest meaning of poems dealing with affairs of the heart?" i muse to myself. the question hangs in the air as i take in the firmness of the bed's springs holding me up when all i wanted to do was fall. i fell captive to the sinful softness of the pillow under my head. lying there i let the aches seep out of my mucles into the soft cushins of the bed. "easy." i finally answer the unanswered question. "They don't." i peel myself away from the comfort of my bed. "So it looks like i am going to have to find the answers somewhere else." i go in my bag and retrieve my laptop. it took a bit longer to find this man's card that i had hid away between the blank pages of a rarely used notebook. Once i found the card the size of a wallet photo i took the time to look at it for the first time, it read: RAY CHADWICK
E-MAIL: RC_WRITER@HOTMAIL.COM
CELLPHONE: 1-347-437-0990
This staring contest with this page wasn't getting anywhere. what was so special about this poem? i thought. what made it so beautiful?
"You are going to fail this course." i recall my proffessor's words. "If you continue to go without help." i recalled his crisp stern tone as if he already decided on my marks if i were to decline his "suggestion." Ofcourse i took the card with the tutor's contact infomation, but i didn't give him an answer on weather or not i'd decide to accept his help.
i released Sonnet 18 from my grasp and decided to "analyze" another sonnet.the next sonnet i was glancing over was sonnet 102."My love is strengthen'd, though more weak in seeming; I love not less, though less the show appear."
"that's stupid!" i think. if you love her then why show it less, if she loves you back why would she get bored with your love at all? why waste your time writing these sonnets anyway, it's either she loves you or she doesnt. i roll out on the bed stuffing the pointless sonnet under my pillow and away from my eyes.
"How can the heartless understand the deepest meaning of poems dealing with affairs of the heart?" i muse to myself. the question hangs in the air as i take in the firmness of the bed's springs holding me up when all i wanted to do was fall. i fell captive to the sinful softness of the pillow under my head. lying there i let the aches seep out of my mucles into the soft cushins of the bed. "easy." i finally answer the unanswered question. "They don't." i peel myself away from the comfort of my bed. "So it looks like i am going to have to find the answers somewhere else." i go in my bag and retrieve my laptop. it took a bit longer to find this man's card that i had hid away between the blank pages of a rarely used notebook. Once i found the card the size of a wallet photo i took the time to look at it for the first time, it read: RAY CHADWICK
E-MAIL: RC_WRITER@HOTMAIL.COM
CELLPHONE: 1-347-437-0990
