Ms. Doolittle s Sophomore Poetry Book

Transcription

1 Name: Ms. Doolittle s Sophomore Poetry Book 1 2 Where I'm From 1 By George Ella Lyon I am from clothespins, from Clorox and carbon-tetrachloride. I am from the dirt under the back porch. (Black, glistening, it tasted like beets.) I am from the forsythia bush the Dutch elm whose long-gone limbs I remember as if they were my own. I'm from fudge and eyeglasses, from Imogene and Alafair. I'm from the know-it-alls and the pass-it-ons, from Perk up! and Pipe down! I'm from He restoreth my soul with a cottonball lamb and ten verses I can say myself. I'm from Artemus and Billie's Branch, fried corn and strong coffee. From the finger my grandfather lost to the auger, the eye my father shut to keep his sight. Under my bed was a dress box spilling old pictures, a sift of lost faces to drift beneath my dreams. I am from those moments-- snapped before I budded -- leaf-fall from the family tree. imagery free verse HW: Write a Where I m From poem (use the template on page 3 of your purple packet.) writing points 1 Lyon, George Ella. Where I m From. George Ella Lyon, Poet and Writer. 2 July 09. < 1

2 1 2 Sure Arlene Tribbia I miss my brother sure he drank Robitussin washed down with beer sure he smoked dope & shot heroin & went to prison for selling to an undercover cop & sure he robbed the town s only hot dog stand, Gino s like I overheard while I laid on my bed staring up at the stars under slanted curtains & sure he used to leave his two year old son alone so he could score on the street but before all this my brother sure used to swing me up onto his back, run me around dizzy through hallways and rooms & we d laugh & laugh fall onto the bed finally and he d tickle me to death sure Name: alliteration repetition shift Class work: reading points (complete these questions on another sheet of paper). 1) According to the poem, describe how the speaker feels about her brother. Use two details from the poem to support your answer. 2) Any of the words below could be used to describe the brother in the poem. Choose the word you think best describes him in the poem. irresponsible lost loved Now, use two details from the poem to support your choice. 2

3 Name: Janet Waking By John Crowe Ransom Beautifully Janet slept Till it was deeply morning. She woke them And thought about her dainty-feathered hen, To see how it had kept. quatrain rhyme scheme 1 2 One kiss she gave her mother, Only a small one gave she to her daddy Who would have kissed each curl of his shining baby; No kiss at all for her brother. "Old Chucky, old Chucky!" she cried, Running on little pink feet upon the grass To Chucky's house, and listening. But alas, Her Chucky had died. It was a transmogrifying bee Came droning down on Chucky's bald old head And sat and put the poison. It scarcely bled, But how exceedingly And purply did the knot Swell with the venom and communicate Its rigor. Now the poor comb stood up straight. But Chucky did not. So there was Janet Kneeling on the wet grass, crying her brown hen (Translated far beyond the prayers of men) To rise and walk upon it. And weeping fast as she had breath Janet implored us, "Wake her from her sleep!" And would not be instructed in how deep Was the forgetful kingdom of Death. Theme Homework: page of your purple packet (1 participation points for completion on time, regardless of which option you choose these points cannot be made up) Note: these assignments can be completed in pairs or groups, but everyone must turn in their own assignment. C version (1/ reading points): take notes in class as we fill out the theme chart B version (18/ reading points): complete C work. Also, fill out the theme chart for Sure A version (/ reading points): complete C and B work. Also, fill out the theme chart for a poem of your choice (from this packet) 3

4 Cold Fear by Elizabeth Madox Roberts As I came home through Drury s Woods, My face stung in the hard sleet. The rough ground kept its frozen tracks; They stumbled my feet. The trees shook off the blowing frost. The wind found out my coat was thin. It tried to tear my clothes away. And the cold came in. Name: adjective* imagery noun* personification Class work: Page 6 of purple packet 1 Knoxville, Tennessee 2 Nikki Giovanni I always like summer best you can eat fresh corn from daddy's garden and okra and greens and cabbage and lots of barbeque and buttermilk and homemade ice-cream at the church picnic and listen to gospel music outside at the church homecoming and go to the mountains with your grandmother and go barefooted and be warm all the time not only when you go to bed and sleep Setting Creative Writing Homework: (1 participation points for completion on time, regardless of which option you choose these points cannot be made up) C version (1/ writing points): write a poem describing a setting from your life. It should be clear how you feel about the place based on the way you write! A version (/ writing points): write two poems describing a setting from your life. Write one poem as if you love this place and have very fond memories of it. Write the other poem as if you hate or fear the place, or as if it makes you sad. (The place must stay the same use details and word choice to provide change the in tone!) 2 Giovanni, Nikki. Knoxville, Tennessee. Poemhunter.com. 2 July 09. < 4

5 couplet foreshadowing imagery metaphor narrative poem onomatopoeia repetition shift simile stanza The Highwayman 3 Name: by Alfred Noyes (an English poet known for his ballads, he lived from 1880 to 198) PART ONE The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees, The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas, The road was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor, And the highwayman came riding Riding riding The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn-door. He'd a French cocked-hat on his forehead, a bunch of lace at his chin, A coat of the claret velvet, and breeches of brown doe-skin; They fitted with never a wrinkle: his boots were up to the thigh! And he rode with a jewelled twinkle, His pistol butts a-twinkle, His rapier hilt a-twinkle, under the jewelled sky. Over the cobbles he clattered and clashed in the dark inn-yard, And he tapped with his whip on the shutters, but all was locked and barred; He whistled a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there But the landlord's black-eyed daughter, Bess, the landlord's daughter, Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair. And dark in the dark old inn-yard a stable-wicket creaked Where Tim the ostler listened; his face was white and peaked; His eyes were hollows of madness, his hair like mouldy hay, But he loved the landlord's daughter, The landlord's red-lipped daughter, Dumb as a dog he listened, and he heard the robber say "One kiss, my bonny sweetheart, I'm after a prize to-night, But I shall be back with the yellow gold before the morning light; Yet, if they press me sharply, and harry me through the day, Then look for me by moonlight, Watch for me by moonlight, I'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way." He rose upright in the stirrups; he scarce could reach her hand, But she loosened her hair i' the casement! His face burnt like a brand As the black cascade of perfume came tumbling over his breast; And he kissed its waves in the moonlight, (Oh, sweet, black waves in the moonlight!) Then he tugged at his rein in the moonlight, and galloped away to the West. 3 If you like this poem, check out The Lady of Shalott, by Alfred, Lord Tennyson.

6 PART TWO Name: He did not come in the dawning; he did not come at noon; And out o' the tawny sunset, before the rise o' the moon, When the road was a gypsy's ribbon, looping the purple moor, A red-coat troop came marching Marching marching King George's men came matching, up to the old inn-door. They said no word to the landlord, they drank his ale instead, But they gagged his daughter and bound her to the foot of her narrow bed; Two of them knelt at her casement, with muskets at their side! There was death at every window; And hell at one dark window; For Bess could see, through her casement, the road that he would ride. They had tied her up to attention, with many a sniggering jest; They had bound a musket beside her, with the barrel beneath her breast! "Now, keep good watch!" and they kissed her. She heard the dead man say Look for me by moonlight; Watch for me by moonlight; I'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way! She twisted her hands behind her; but all the knots held good! She writhed her hands till her fingers were wet with sweat or blood! They stretched and strained in the darkness, and the hours crawled by like years, Till, now, on the stroke of midnight, Cold, on the stroke of midnight, The tip of one finger touched it! The trigger at least was hers! The tip of one finger touched it; she strove no more for the rest! Up, she stood up to attention, with the barrel beneath her breast, She would not risk their hearing; she would not strive again; For the road lay bare in the moonlight; Blank and bare in the moonlight; And the blood of her veins in the moonlight throbbed to her love's refrain. Tlot-tlot; tlot-tlot! Had they heard it? The horse-hoofs ringing clear; Tlot-tlot, tlot-tlot, in the distance? Were they deaf that they did not hear? Down the ribbon of moonlight, over the brow of the hill, The highwayman came riding, Riding, riding! The red-coats looked to their priming! She stood up, straight and still! Tlot-tlot, in the frosty silence! Tlot-tlot, in the echoing night! Nearer he came and nearer! Her face was like a light! Her eyes grew wide for a moment; she drew one last deep breath, Then her finger moved in the moonlight, Her musket shattered the moonlight, Shattered her breast in the moonlight and warned him with her death. 6

7 Name: 8 9 He turned; he spurred to the West; he did not know who stood Bowed, with her head o'er the musket, drenched with her own red blood! Not till the dawn he heard it, his face grew grey to hear How Bess, the landlord's daughter, The landlord's black-eyed daughter, Had watched for her love in the moonlight, and died in the darkness there. Back, he spurred like a madman, shrieking a curse to the sky, With the white road smoking behind him and his rapier brandished high! Blood-red were his spurs i' the golden noon; wine-red was his velvet coat, When they shot him down on the highway, Down like a dog on the highway, And he lay in his blood on the highway, with the bunch of lace at his throat. * * * * * * 11 And still of a winter's night, they say, when the wind is in the trees, When the moon is a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas, When the road is a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor, A highwayman comes riding Riding riding A highwayman comes riding, up to the old inn-door. Over the cobbles he clatters and clangs in the dark inn-yard; He taps with his whip on the shutters, but all is locked and barred; He whistles a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there But the landlord's black-eyed daughter, Bess, the landlord's daughter, Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair. 7

8 The Rose That Grew From Concrete 4 by Tupac Shakur, African American rapper, actor, and poet ( ) Name: Did you hear about the rose that grew from a crack in the concrete? Proving nature's law is wrong it learned to walk without having feet. Funny it seems, but by keeping its dreams, it learned to breathe fresh air. Long live the rose that grew from concrete when no one else ever cared. cliché couplet metaphor quatrain reversal* rhyme scheme shift symbol One Perfect Rose By Dorothy Parker A single flow'r he sent me, since we met. All tenderly his messenger he chose; Deep-hearted, pure, with scented dew still wet-- One perfect rose. I knew the language of the floweret; "My fragile leaves," it said, "his heart enclose." Love long has taken for his amulet One perfect rose. Why is it no one ever sent me yet One perfect limousine, do you suppose? Ah no, it's always just my luck to get One perfect rose. 4 Tupac has a whole book of poetry called The Rose that Grew From Concrete. 8

9 1 The Sea By James Reeves The sea is a hungry dog, Giant and grey. He rolls on the beach all day. With his clashing teeth and shaggy jaws Hour upon hour he gnaws The rumbling, tumbling stones, And Bones, bones, bones, bones! The giant sea-dog moans, Licking his greasy paws. And when the night wind roars And the moon rocks in the stormy cloud, He bounds to his feet and snuffs and sniffs, Shaking his wet sides over the cliffs, And howls and hollos long and loud. But on quiet days in May or June, When even the grasses on the dune Play no more their reedy tune, With his head between his paws He lies on the sandy shores, So quiet, so quiet, he scarcely snores. Name: extended metaphor imagery onomatopoeia rhyme scheme stanza C option HW (1/ writing points): choose a natural phenomenon (like sun, rain, fire, or wind). Create one original simile, one metaphor, and one example of personification to describe your phenomena. (You may not use Ms. Doolittle s example.) B option HW (18/ writing points): choose three natural phenomena (see above). Create one original simile, one metaphor, and one example of personification for each of your phenomena. Do the math you should have nine examples total. (You may not use Ms. Doolittle s example.) A option HW (/ writing points): choose a natural phenomenon (see above) or setting (like the forest, a mountain, etc.). Create a poem at least twenty lines long describing this phenomena or setting. Use one original simile, one metaphor, and one example of personification in your poem. Extra credit if you can sustain one extended metaphor! (You may not use Ms. Doolittle s example OR the sea.) 9

10 Name: Ode to Conger Chowder from his collection, Elementary Odes by Pablo Neruda, Chilean Communist poet and politician ( ) In the storm-tossed Chilean sea lives the rosy conger, giant eel of snowy flesh. And in Chilean stewpots, along the coast, was born the chowder, thick and succulent, a boon to man. You bring the conger, skinned, to the kitchen (its mottled skin slips off like a glove, leaving the grape of the sea exposed to the world), naked, the tender eel glistens, prepared to serve our appetites. Now you take garlic, first, caress that precious ivory, smell its irate fragrance, then blend the minced garlic with onion and tomato until the onion is the color of gold. Meanwhile steam our regal ocean prawns, and when they are tender, when the savor is set in a sauce combining the liquors of the ocean and the clear water released from the light of the onion, then you add the eel that it may be immersed in glory, that it may steep in the oils of the pot, shrink and be saturated. Now all that remains is to drop a dollop of cream into the concoction, a heavy rose, then slowly deliver the treasure to the flame, until in the chowder are warmed the essences of Chile, and to the table come, newly wed, the savors of land and sea, that in this dish you may know heaven. HW: Write an ode to an object (socks, enchiladas, fries, Barbie dolls, etc.) alliteration imagery metaphor ode personification simile

11 Name: Strange Fruit by Lewis Allen sung by Billie Holliday, African American jazz singer ( ) Southern trees bear strange fruit, Blood on the leaves and blood at the root, Black bodies swinging in the southern breeze, Strange fruit hanging from the poplar trees. alliteration couplet imagery irony quatrain repetition understatement* Pastoral scene of the gallant south, The bulging eyes and the twisted mouth, Scent of magnolias, sweet and fresh, Then the sudden smell of burning flesh. Here is fruit for the crows to pluck, For the rain to gather, for the wind to suck, For the sun to rot, for the trees to drop, Here is a strange and bitter crop. Southern Cop By Sterling A. Brown, African American poet ( ) 1 Let us forgive Ty Kendricks. The place was Darktown. He was young. His nerves were jittery. The day was hot. The Negro ran out of the alley. And so Ty shot. Let us understand Ty Kendricks. The Negro must have been dangerous Because he ran. And here was a rookie with a chance To prove himself a man. Let us condone Ty Kendricks If we cannot decorate. When he found what the Negro was running for, It was too late; And all we can say for the Negro is It was unfortunate. Let us pity Ty Kendricks He has been through enough. Standing here, his big gun smoking, Rabbit-scared, alone, Having to hear the wenches wail And the dying Negro moan. 11

12 Name: Hazel Tells Laverne By Kathryn Machan 1 2 last night im cleanin out my howard johnsons ladies room when all of a sudden up pops this frog musta come from the sewer swimmin aroun an tryin ta climb up the sida the bowl so i goes ta flushm down but sohelpmegod he starts talkin bout a golden ball an how i can be a princess me a princess well my mouth drops all the way to the floor an he says kiss me just kiss me once on the nose well i screams ya little green pervert an i hitsm with my mop an has ta flush the toilet down three times me a princess 12