Sonnets is Charles Timm's debut poetry collection, a vulnerable account of a forbidden love, its joy, sorrow, fire, and friendship.
Tony Riches, author of the Tudor Trilogy, says, "These sonnets bring a relevant, contemporary feel . . . and show what is possible within the constraint of fourteen lines."
ReadingOtherPeople calls it, "Sonic . . . lustrous . . . more effective than a piece of fiction."
And critic Jim Bennett says, "This work, in its best examples . . . encroaches on the quality of Shakespeare and Milton."
Poet
Charles Gerard Timm holds a Bachelor of Arts degree in English from William Paterson College and studied under Philip Schultz at the Writers Studio in Manhattan. He has worked as a newspaper reporter and editor, and as a content manager at a marketing firm. Away from writing, he has had a dizzying number of careers, including landscaper, gambler, bartender, piano technician, furniture salesman, and massage therapist.
Poems
VI
When in such lust that flesh denies all hearts,
I switch roles with the scant costume you wear.
The tailor's clever hand suggests you bare,
But I say wrap those sweet imagined parts
With me the cloth that drapes your curving path,
The thread that hems it up lustily so,
The dye that soaks it through adagio,
While witchily we roil a cauldron bath.
But here you rouse me from lust's easy grip.
With words whistling as sweetly as a fife,
You're telling me about your married life,
To save our fragile fabric, new friendship.
I'm grateful. Your words place me in your debt
For stirring dignity and not regret.
XX
Since I may not put my love on display,
Yet find at times I let my feelings slip
In too much sweetness threatening friendship,
I’ve made this list of rules. Rehearse, replay:
Don’t carry little items she might need;
Don’t tell her every time she’s in your dream;
Don’t say her dancer’s height for you’s supreme;
Don’t follow every time she’s in the lead;
Don’t ever let her loving language hear.
For heaven’s sake don’t honey-tongue a rhyme—
She wouldn’t buy a dozen for a dime.
Remember, she's made all this quite clear.
Repeat these words like vows you well renew
Or risk a wrong not wanting to (I do!).
XXVII
When I’ve been writing poetry awhile,
Awakening in me my loneliness,
I type a note to you where I confess
That I would like to see your friendly smile.
But when we meet, I don’t quite know your face.
The hug feels dry, the talk so everyday.
We eat to eat then walk—you cannot stay.
I wonder where love’s gone without a trace.
Ah, but then a sudden blush finds your cheek,
You laugh your special way and toss your hair,
And now fall’s sad, sweet colored-twilight air
Shows me the changeling’s gone and you’ve returned.
I’ll manage, since I must, when we’re apart,
Though separation makes a cautious heart.
