€¦ · web viewpoetry. whether telling a story, capturing a single moment, or describing nature...

PoetryWhether telling a story, capturing a single moment, or describing nature in a completely new way, poetry is the most musical of all literary forms. These terms will help you discuss the variety of poetry you’ll encounter in this unit:Narrative - tells a story with ___________, a _________ and a

_________ Lyric - expresses _________ and ________________

Form - describes the _________ of a poem. Some poems are written in regular groups of lines called ___________. Others, like __________ follow strict syllable and line counts.

Rhythm, rhyme, and sound devices,- such as _____________________ and _______________________, give poetry a musical quality.

Figurative Language - such as __________, ____________, and _____________ – allows the poet to draw vibrant and creative comparisons.

Haiku

A haiku poem has ________ lines, where the _______ and _______ lines have __________ moras, and the _________________ line has ____________. The pattern in this Japanese genre is __-___-___.

Stanza

In poetry, a stanza is a _________________of four or more lines having a __________ __________, ________, or rhyming scheme

Alliteration

It is a stylistic device in which a number of _____________________, having the same ____________ consonant ___________________, occur close together in a ____________________.

Onomatopoeia

Defined as a word which __________________ the natural sounds of a thing. It creates a sound effect that ________________ the thing described, making the description more _________________ and interesting.

Simile

that makes a indirect __________________, showing _________________ between two different things.

Metaphor

that makes an direct implicit, implied, or hidden ______________ between two things that are ____________, but which share some common characteristics.

Personification

a __________ – an ________ or an _____________ – is given ___________ attributes. The non-human objects are portrayed in such a way that we __________they have the ability to act like human beings.

Sensory imagery

represent ____________, ___________, and ___________ in such a way that it appeals to our ____________ ___________

Ballad

A type of ______________________ poem in which a story often talks about folk or legendary tales. It may take the form of a moral lesson or a song.

Distinguishing Features of Ballads:

mostly rely on simple and _____________________________, or __________________ from its origin.

Stories about _____________________, ____________________, _________________, and _________________________ are standard ingredients of the ballad.

______________________ of certain lines at regular intervals. Ballads seldom offer a ________________ ________________ about a certain _________________,

_________________, or ______________________.

Refain

Refrain is a ___________, a ___________, a set, or a group of lines that appears at the end of stanza, or appears where a poem ____________ into different sections

Who Am I?

The trees ask me,

And the sky,

And the sea asks me,

Who am I?

The grass asks me,

And the Sand,

And the rocks ask me

Who am I?

The wind tells me

At nightfall,

And the rain tells me.

Someone small.

Someone small

Someone small

But a piece

of

it

all.

Felice Holman

For the previous poem determine:

What is the structure? Of each stanza:

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What do you notice about the Punctuation?: ____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Figurative language: ____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Can the stanza’s be read out of order? Explain ____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

How would you paraphrase the poem?: _______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

What is the message or thematic focus of this poem?: ____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Is there any other poems with similar themes? Which?: __________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

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What type of poem is this? ___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Oak After Dark

As nighttime rustles at my knee,

I stand in silent gravity

And quietly continue chores

Of feeding leaves and sealing pores.

While beetles whisper in my bark,

While warblers roost in branches dark,

I stretch my roots into the hill

And slowly, slowly, drink my fill.

A thousand crickets scream my name,

Yet I remain the same, the same.

I do not rest, I do not sleep,

And all my promises I keep:

To stand while all the seasons fly,

To anchor the earth,

To touch the sky.

Joyce Sidman

Dark Emperor & Other Poems of the Night



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After a Bath

After my bath I try, try, try

to wipe myself till I’m dry, dry, dry.

Hands to wipeAnd fingers and toes And two wet legs

And a shiny nose.

Just think how much less time I’d take if I were a dog

and could

Shake,

Shake, Shake.

~Aileen Fisher



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Is there any other poems with similar themes? Which?: ___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

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Silvery

Silvery,Silvery,

Over theTrees,

The moon driftsBy on a Runaway Breeze.

Dozily,Dozily,

Deep in her Bed,

A little girlDreams with the

Moon in her Head.

~Dennis Lee

Beach Time

We’re driving to the beach now,The air’s potato chips-so salty on my fingers,so salty on my lips.

We’re running on the beach now,The waves play with the sea.I wonder if I’m chasing themor if they’re chasing me.

We have to leave the beach now,Good-bye sand and sun and foam.But in my hand I hold a shellto bring the beach back home.

~Marilyn Singer

For the previous poems determine:

Compare each poems; how is the structure different for each? Of each stanza:

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How would you paraphrase the each poem?: ________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

What is the message or thematic focus of each poem? Are the similar or different?: ____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Do they have similar themes? _________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

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What type of poem are they? ___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Sand House

I built a house One afternoonWith bucket, cupAnd tablespoon.

Then scooped a shovelFull of shoeOn to to addThe second floor.

But when the fingers Of the seaReached up and wavedA wave at me,

It tumbled down Like dominoesAnd disappearedBetween my toes.

~J. Patrick Lewis



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How to Save the World in 100 Words(for O, The Oprah Magazine)

For me---it is the realization that I cannot save the world.The world is neither time nor money.

For me---it is that thing in front of me:The man in prison for a horrible crimewho has become my brotherMy neighbor’s sons who talk football to meover the back fenceThe yellow jackets who have made their home by my deck

All the things I say I don’t have time to do but reallydon’t have time to don’t do

For me---it is the joy of being aliveFor me---it is the living

I clock this in at 99 words. I wonder what I missed.

~Nikki GiovanniBicycles: Love Poems



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Is there any other poems with similar themes? Which?: ___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

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ArithmeticBy Carl Sandburg

Arithmetic is where numbers fly like pigeons in and out of your head.Arithmetic tells you how many you lose or win if you know how many you had before you lost or won.Arithmetic is seven eleven all good children go to heaven- or five six bundle of sticks.Arithmetic is numbers you squeeze from your head to your hand to your pencil to your paper till you get the answer.

Arithmetic is where the answer is right and everything is nice and you can look out of the window and see the blue sky- or the answer is wrong and you have to start all over and try again and see how it comes out this time.

If you take a number and double it and double it again and then double it a few more times, the number gets bigger and bigger and goes higher and higher and only arithmetic can tell you what the number is when you decide to quit doubling.

Arithmetic is where you have to multiply-and you carry the multiplication table in your head and hope you won’t lose it.If you have two animal crackers, one good and one bad, and you eat one and a striped zebra with streaks all over him eats the other, how many animal crackers will you have if somebody offers you five six seven and you say No no no and you sayNay nay nay and you say Nix nix nix?If you ask your mother for one fried egg for breakfast and she gives you two fried eggs and you eat both of them, who is better at arithmetic, you or your mother?



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Is there any other poems with similar themes? Which?: _____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________


Michael is Afraid of the Storm

Lightning is angry in the night.Thunder spanks our house.Rain is hating our old elm-

It punishes the boughs.

Now I am next to eight years old,And crying’s not for me.

But if I touch my mother’s hand,Perhaps no one will see.

And if I keep herself in sight-Follow her busy dress-

No one will notice my wild eye,No one will laugh, I guess.

By Gwendolyn Brooks



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Is there any other poems with similar themes? Which?: _____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________


If by Rudyard Kipling

If you can keep your head when all about you

Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;

If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,

But make allowance for their doubting too:

If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,

Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,

Or being hated don’t give way to hating,

And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream — and not make dreams your master

If you can think — and not make thoughts your aim,

If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster

And treat those two impostors just the same:

If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken

Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,

Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,

And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings

And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,

And lose, and start again at your beginnings

And never breathe a word about your loss:

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew

To serve your turn long after they are gone,

And so hold on when there is nothing in you

Except the Will which says to them: “Hold on!”

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,

Or walk with Kings — nor lose the common touch,

If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,

If all men count with you, but none too much:

If you can fill the unforgiving minute

With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,

Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,

And — which is more — you’ll be a Man, my son!

Impostors (n) – people who trick or deceive others by pretending to be what they are not

Virtue (n) – moral goodness

Paraphrase the ideas in Kipling’s poem “If” into your own words to understand the message.

Kipling’s words: Your words:

Comprehension:

1. List 3 situations and behaviors the speaker includes in “If-.”

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2. What happens if all the conditions are met? ______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

3. What is the theme of this poem? ______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Thumbprint

In the heel of my thumbare whorls, whirls, wheelsin a unique design:mine alone.What a treasure to own!My own flesh, my own feelings.No other, however grand or base,can ever contain the same.My signature,thumbing the pages of my time.My universe key,my singularity.Impress, implant,I am myself,of all my atom parts I am the sum.And out of my blood and my brainI make my own interior weather,my own sun and rain.Imprint my mark upon the world,whatever I shall become.

~ Eve Merriam

Unique (adj) – unlike any other; singular

Base (adj) – lowly; inferior

Fable

Ralph Waldo Emerson

The mountain and the squirrelHad a quarrel,And the former called the latter, "little prig":Bun replied,You are doubtless very big,But all sorts of things and weatherMust be taken in togetherTo make up a year,And a sphere.And I think it no disgraceTo occupy my place.If I'm not so large as you,You are not so small as I,And not half so spry:I'll not deny you makeA very pretty squirrel track;Talents differ; all is well and wisely put;If I cannot carry forests on my back,Neither can you crack a nut

Spry (adj) – full of life; nimble

Based on the ideas in the previous two (2) poems what is the thematic focus of the poems? What message do these poems share? ______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Which of these poems come closest to stating your life motto? Explain

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Comprehension

Summarize the conversation in “Fable.”

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What does Eve Merriam describe in “Thumbprint”?

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What are the “whorls, whirls, wheels” Merriam describes? What type of figurative language is this an example of?

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Interpret

Why does the squirrel compare its place in the world to the parts of the year?

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What does Emerson suggest about the value of the individual?

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Why is the speaker’s thumbprint so precious to her?

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How does a thumbprint help Merriam make a point about individuality?

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Who Am I?

The trees ask me,

And the sky,

And the sea asks me,

Who am I?

The grass asks me,

And the Sand,

And the rocks ask me

Who am I?

The wind tells me

At nightfall,

And the rain tells me.

Someone small.

Someone small

Someone small

But a piece

of

it

all.

Felice Holman

Hope

Hope is the thing with feathers That perches in the soul,

And sings the tune--without the words,And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard;And sore must be the storm

That could abash the little bird That kept so many warm.

I've heard it in the chillest land,And on the strangest sea; Yet, never, in extremity,It asked a crumb of me.

By Emily Dickinson

Perches - settles

Thoughts,

I love the Autumn,And yet I cannot say All the thoughts and thingsThat make one feel this way.

I love walking on the angry shore, To watch the angry sea; Where summer people were before, But now there's only me.

I love wood fires at night That have a ruddy glow. I stare at the flames And think of long ago.

I love the feeling down inside me That says to run away To come and be a gypsy And laugh the gypsy way.

The tangy taste of apples, The snowy mist at morn, The wanderlust inside you When you hear the huntsman's horn.

Nostalgia - that's the Autumn, Dreaming through September Just a million lovely things I always will remember.

by Jacqueline Bouvier -1943

wanderlust – a strong desire to travel

The Road Not Taken

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,And sorry I could not travel bothAnd be one traveler, long I stoodAnd looked down one as far as I couldTo where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,And having perhaps the better claim,

Because it was grassy and wanted wear;Though as for that the passing thereHad worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally layIn leaves no step had trodden black.Oh, I kept the first for another day!Yet knowing how way leads on to way,I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sighSomewhere ages and ages hence:Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.

By Robert Frost

Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening

Whose woods these are I think I know.His house is in the village though;He will not see me stopping hereTo watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queerTo stop without a farmhouse near

Between the woods and frozen lakeThe darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shakeTo ask if there is some mistake.The only other sound's the sweepOf easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.But I have promises to keep,And miles to go before I sleep,And miles to go before I sleep.

By Robert Frost

Maggie and Milly and Molly and May

Maggie and Milly and Molly and Maywent down to the beach (to play one day).

And Maggie discovered a shell that sangso sweetly she couldn't remember her troubles, and

Milly befriended a stranded star

whose rays five languid fingers were;

And molly was chased by a horrible thingwhich raced sideways while blowing bubbles: and

May came home with a smooth round stoneas small as a world and as large as alone.

For whatever we lose (like a you or a me) it's always ourselves we find in the sea.

by E. E. Cummings

The Rider

A boy told meif he roller-skated fast enoughhis loneliness couldn’t catch up to him,

the best reason I ever heardfor trying to be a champion.

What I wonder tonightpedaling hard down King William Streetis if it translates to bicycles.

A victory! To leave your lonelinesspanting behind you on some street cornerwhile you float free into a cloud of sudden azaleas,

pink petals that have never felt loneliness,no matter how slowly they fell.

Naomi Shihab Nye

The House Was Quiet and the World Was Calm The house was quiet and the world was calm. The reader became the book; and summer night

Was like the conscious being of the book. The house was quiet and the world was calm.

The words were spoken as if there was no book, Except that the reader leaned above the page,

Wanted to lean, wanted much most to be The scholar to whom his book is true, to whom

The summer night is like a perfection of thought. The house was quiet because it had to be.

The quiet was part of the meaning, part of the mind: The access of perfection to the page.

The world was calm. The truth in a calm world, In which there is no other meaning, itself

Is calm, itself is summer and night, itself Is the reader leaning late and reading there.

By Wallace Stevens

Fishing On The Susquehanna In July

I have never been fishing on the Susquehannaor on any river for that matterto be perfectly honest.

Not in July or any monthhave I had the pleasure -- if it is a pleasure --of fishing on the Susquehanna.

I am more likely to be foundin a quiet room like this one --a painting of a woman on the wall,

a bowl of tangerines on the table --trying to manufacture the sensationof fishing on the Susquehanna.

There is little doubtthat others have been fishingon the Susquehanna,

rowing upstream in a wooden boat,sliding the oars under the waterthen raising them to drip in the light.

But the nearest I have ever come tofishing on the Susquehannawas one afternoon in a museum in Philadelphia,

when I balanced a little egg of timein front of a paintingin which that river curled around a bend

under a blue cloud-ruffled sky,dense trees along the banks,and a fellow with a red bandana

sitting in a small, greenflat-bottom boatholding the thin whip of a pole.

That is something I am unlikelyever to do, I remembersaying to myself and the person next to me.

Then I blinked and moved onto other American scenesof haystacks, water whitening over rocks,even one of a brown harewho seemed so wired with alertnessI imagined him springing right out of the frame

by Billy Collins

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