PoetryNarrative

poetryLyrical Poetry

Which type of poetry is missing?

Please open your If A Tree… to ch. 16, pg. 59.

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What is lyrical poetry?

Poetry that has a musical quality and expresses the

feelings of a single speaker

 

The Pasture by Robert Frost

I'm going out to clean the pasture spring;I'll only stop to rake the leaves away(And wait to watch the water clear, I may):I shan't be gone long. -- You come too.

I'm going out to fetch the little calfThat's standing by the mother. It's so young,It totters when she licks it with her tongue.I shan't be gone long. -- You come too.

“Going to the Park”

Verse by Ms. Hickner

Bill: I want to go to the park

I want to leave by dark

I want to run and play

Let’s go right away!

Molly: The park is really dumb

I’m not gonna come

It’s too hot a day

I do not want to play

Ms.

Hickner: Well I would like to go

It’s not like it’s going to snow!

It won’t be all that bad

Molly, don’t be sad

Molly: Well I hate parks and fun

Tell me when you’re done

I just like TV

Power Rangers, Cartoons, and Sesame

Billy: This argument is making me mad

I’m going and there’s fun to be had

I’m going to leave right now

Don’t even ask me how

Ms.

Hickner: Well, I think I’ll go along too

Molly oh boo, boo hoo

This is gonna be great

Molly, you don’t appreciate

Molly: I don’t care what you do

You guys and parks are stu (pid)

I’m staying here eating chips

Being lazy and throwing a fit

Ms. Hickner and Billy in unison: Ok whatever, you’re lame. Bye!

Emma Lazarus (1849-1887)

The New Colossus

              1Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,              2With conquering limbs astride from land to land;              3Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand              4A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame              5Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name              6Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand              7Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command              8The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.              9"Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she            10With silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor,            11Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,            12The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.            13Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,            14I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"

This sonnet is on the Statue of Liberty!

Under My Bed by Kate Jennifer

It’s that time again, that time that I dread,That nerve-racking time, when I have to go to bed,Mum tucks in the covers, “hope the bedbugs don’t bite”,But I know there are worse things that lurk ‘round at night.

There’s a monster, you see, hiding down there,That horrible mutant with a red eyed stare,It hovers in the shadows ‘till the day is done,Its toothy mouth smirks at the sight of the setting sun.

Mum comforts me, as my face turns to white,“It’s okay sweetie. Everything’s alright.”She turns on my night light and closes the door,“Don’t you worry about those bedbugs anymore.”

It is bed time!

The child says he is afraid

His mom tucks him in

We’re all alone now - it’s just the monster and me,I bet it’s licking its lips now with sheer ecstasy,I pull up the blankets to cover my head,To hide me from that creature that lives under my bed.

I have a sudden thought, what if I catch him first?So I creep out of the blankets, expecting the worst,But he doesn’t emerge so I bend down to see,That strange, frightening creature, that’s waiting for me.

I hold the sheet tight to invade his lair,I jerk it straight back, but I can’t see much down there,I find a few lint balls, some toys and a tack,But the monster’s not there tonight, I guess he’s just slack!

He is left all alone with the monster

He looks under his bed

There is nothing there

It is bed time

The child says he

is afraid

His mom tucks him in

He is left alone with

the monster

He looks under his bed

There is nothing

there