It has been a few years since I’ve ventured into the world of poetry. My knowledge of what comprises an effective sonnet is essentially limited to the fact that it is composed of quatrains which may or may not rhyme. That’s it. This is precisely why I so graciously accepted Charles Gerard Timm’s proposal to read his lustrous ‘Sonnets’ and provide my thoughts.
Timm’s ‘Sonnets’ is comprised of 33 pieces that collectively form a narrative highlighting the sometimes-sensitive topic of romance that turns into a friendship. The first person point of view gives the sonnets a tender feel; the words used evoke a special time and place that are only available to the two people from whom these sonnets are referring. Timm’s clever use of alliteration provides a steady rhythm that feels like a beating pulse. Organic and natural, the sonnets flow quickly. I forgot on several occasions that it was indeed poetry I was reading and not the more standard prose often used to tell the story of relationship progressions, or digressions.
Descriptions like “The lover lives in meadows lush and free” and “Admixed with rocks and twigs, it must be sieved” immerse the reader into a whirlwind and emotions. Timm doesn’t romanticize the romance but seems to create words that capture the often times opposing essences that categorize relationships, as well as the residual emotions that often encompass their seismic shifts.
My favorite sonnet, XXVII, is beautiful and delicate. “The hug feels dry, the talk so everyday” are words that while seem simple in their placement perfectly encapsulate the rather global experience of when we run into those that we used to be very close with, either platonically or in other ways.
Timm’s talent at conveying the usually disregarded intricacies of the human condition allowed me, as a reader, to question the power of poetry. The dynamism of his words in simple 14-quatrain sonnets proves more effective then finishing a 1000-heralded piece of fiction.