So, within the last couple of years I’ve become aware of Sonnet 20.
Yes. I’m behind the times. By approximately 400 years. Deal.
Here’s how it goes:
A woman’s face with nature’s own hand painted,
Hast thou, the master mistress of my passion;
A woman’s gentle heart, but not acquainted
With shifting change, as is false women’s fashion:
An eye more bright than theirs, less false in rolling,
Gilding the object whereupon it gazeth;
A man in hue all hues in his controlling,
Which steals men’s eyes and women’s souls amazeth.
And for a woman wert thou first created;
Till Nature, as she wrought thee, fell a-doting,
And by addition me of thee defeated,
By adding one thing to my purpose nothing.
But since she prick’d thee out for women’s pleasure,
Mine be thy love and thy love’s use their treasure.
So, Billy Shakes there, talking about how men can be sexy sometimes, and isn’t that a bit weird?
It’s like: there’s this bloke, and he looks like a girl, and he’s gorgeous, and it’s like having a girl that I can actually talk to about bloke things, y’know? It’s like having all the good things about girls, and none of the bad things.
And actually: I love him.
But at the end of the day he’s got a cock, and that’s a bit odd. And I can’t do the sex thing, cos that’d weird me out.
But that’s fine. Even if we can’t do the act, that’s not going to change the way I love him.
So. Great poem.
Two things, really.
Thing the first: If you don’t think line 13 there is verbing a noun, you’re not as good as you think you are.
Thing the second: I identify as bisexual. And if you have a problem with that, you can go fuck yourself.