POETRYThe Joy of Words

ORGANIC VS. FORMULAIC Raw w/ or w/out

rhyme Patternless? Random Off the wall Informal

Clean Rhyme schemes Follows rules Patterns Orderly Not so crazy Formal

FIGURATIVE LANGUAGE Personification Simile Metaphor Irony Satire Hyperbole Understatement Overstatement Paradox

PERSONIFICATION The wind whispered in his ear, “Be still. .

. Be still.” Raindrops kissed the dry earth bringing

hope to the whole town. Motley thought, “I hope we stop here. I

really have to go.” He sniffed the fire hydrant as Billy talked to Sally. Sally didn’t have Gracie with her today. Man, he loved that little white poodle.

THE WORLD IS NOT A PLEASANT PLACE TO BE Nikki Giovanni

the world is not a pleasant place to be without someone to hold and be held by

a river would stop its flow if only a stream were there to receive it

an ocean would never laugh if clouds weren’t there to kiss her tears

the world is not a pleasant place to be without someone

I WONDERED LONELY AS A CLOUD William Wordsworth

I wondered lonely as a cloudThat floats on high o’er vales and

hills,When all at once I saw a crowd,A host, of golden daffodils;Beside the lake, beneath the trees, Fluttering and dancing in the

breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shineAnd twinkle on the milky way,They stretched in never-ending lineAlong the margin of a bay:Ten thousand saw I at a glance,Tossing their heads in sprightly

dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they

Outdid the sparkling waves in glee:A poet could not but be gayIn such a jocund company:I gazed—and gazed—but little

thoughtWhat wealth the show to me had

brought

For oft, when on my couch I lieIn vacant or in pensive mood,They flash upon that inward eyeWhich is the bliss of solitude;And then my heart with pleasure

fills,And dances with the daffodils.

SIMILE

Her eyes glittered like moon beams flickering off the lake.

The pain ripped through him like a flame torturing his soul.

Joy filled the room as if it were tangible. . . as if it were soft swirlings of cotton candy floating around and around.

EARTH YOUR DANCING PLACE– May Swenson

Beneath heaven’s vaultremember always walkingthrough halls of cloud down aisles of sunlight or through high hedges of the green rain walk in the world highheeled with swirl of capehand at the swordhilt of your pride Keep a tall throat Remain aghast at life

Enter each day as upon a stage lighted and waiting for your step Crave upward as flame

have keenness in the nostril Give your eyes to agony or rapture Train your hands as birds to be brooding or nimble Move your body as the horses sweeping on slender hooves over crag and prairie with fleeing manes and aloofness of their limbs

Take earth for your own large roomand the floor of earth carpeted with sunlight and hung round with silver wind for your dancing place

METAPHOR

His hands were claws digging into my flesh. I was his prey; he was the hunter.

My fear was a heavy load of everyone else’s packages: their expectations were overwhelming me.

The book was an exciting journey into the realm of Egyptian tombs.

AN INDIAN SUMMER DAY ON THE PRAIRIE Vachel Lindsay

In the BeginningThe sun is a huntress young,The sun is red, red joy, The sun is an Indian girl,Of the tribe of the Illinois.

Mid-morningThe sun is a smoldering fire,That creeps through the high gray

plain,And leaves not a bush of cloudTo blossom with flowers of rain.

NoonThe sun is a wounded deer,That treads pale grass in the

skies,Shaking his golden horns,Flashing his baleful eyes.

SunsetThe sun is an eagle old;There in the windless west,Atop of the spirit-cliffsHe builds him a crimson nest.

IRONY An ad for cigarettes right next to an ad

for help with cancer Saying something is beautiful when it’s

actually an awful thing that has happened

Saying something is “sick” when it’s actually beautiful or neat

EX-BASKETBALL PLAYER John Updike

Pearl Avenue runs past the high-school lot,Bends with the trolley tracks, and stops, cut off Before it has a chance to go two blocks,At Colonel McComsky Plaza. Berth’s GarageIs on the corner facing west, and there,Most days, you’ll find Flick Webb, who helps

Berth out.

Flick stands tall among the idiot pumps—Five on a side, the old bubble-head style,Their rubber elbows hanging loose and low.One’s nostrils are two S’s, and his eyes An E and O. And one is squat, withoutA head at all—more of a football type.

Once Flick played for the high-school team, the Wizards.

He was good: in fact, the best. In ‘46He bucketed three hundred ninety points,A county record still. The ball loved Flick.I saw him rack up thirty-eight or fortyIn one home game. His hands were like wild

birds.

He never learned a trade, he just sells gas,Checks oil, and changes flats. Once in a

while,As a gag, he dribbles an inner tube,But most of us remember anyway.His hands are fine and nervous on the lug

wrench.It makes no difference to the lug wrench,

though.

Off work, he hangs around Mae’s Luncheonette.

Grease-gray and kind of coiled, he plays pinball,

Smokes those thin cigars, nurses lemon phosphates.

Flick seldom says a word to Mae, just nodsBeyond her face toward bright applauding

tiersOf Necco Wafers, Nibs, and Juju Beads.

SATIRE Jonathon Swift’s, “The Perfect Proposal” Scary Movie

SpoofingMockingMimicking Impersonating

SMARTShel Silverstein

My dad gave me one dollar bill‘Cause I’m his smartest son,

And I swapped it for two shiny quarters‘Cause two is more than one!

And then I took the quartersAnd traded them to Lou

For three dimes—I guess he don’t knowThat three is more than two!

Just then, along came old blind BatesAnd just ’cause he can’t see

He gave me four nickels for my three dimes,And four is more than three!

And I took the nickels to Hiram CoombsDown at the seed-feed store,

And the fool gave me five pennies for them,And five is more than four!

And then I went and showed my dad,And he got red in the cheeks

And closed his eyes and shook his head—Too proud of me to speak!

HYPERBOLE His hatred consumed to the point where

it burnt holes into my soul. His love overtook my every movement;

my life was forever dedicated to his requests.

School is beyond boring; it’s like watching a tree grow a new leaf—you may never see the beginning or the end.

Lunch today was so exuberantly disgusting; I thought I was on the season premiere of Fear Factor eating eggs of some not so exotic bird.

TONIGHT I CAN WRITE . . . Pablo Neruda

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.

Write, for example, “The night is shattered and the blue stars shiver in the distance.”

The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.I loved her, and sometimes she loved me to.

Through nights like this one I held her in my arms.I kissed her again and again under the endless sky.

She loved me, sometimes I loved her too.How could one not have loved her great still eyes.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her.

To hear the immense night, still more immense without her. And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture.

What does it matter that my love could not keep her.The night is shattered and she is not with me.

This is all. In the distance someone is singing. In the distance.

My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.

My sight searches for her as though to go to her.My heart looks for her, and she is not with me.

The same night whitening the same trees.We, of that time, are no longer the same.

I no longer love her, that’s certain, but how I loved her.

My voice tried to find the wind to touch her hearing.

Another’s. She will be another’s. Like my kisses before.

Her voice. Her bright body. Her infinite eyes.

I no longer love her, that’s certain, but maybe I love her.

Love is so short, forgetting is so long.

Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms

my soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.

Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer

and these the last verses that I write for her.

UNDERSTATEMENT The break-up was like stubbing a toe (he

actually put his fist through a window and needed 12 stitches)

Their love was a prick in my side (when his infatuation with her was all-consuming)

Winter in Pennsylvania can be chilly (after a week of below 25 temperatures)

The TV reception is annoying (when no channels will stay in & everything comes in with static)

HOW THINGS WORK Gary Soto

Today it’s going to cost us thirty-five dollarsTo live. Six for a softball. Eight for a book,A handful of ones for coffee and two sweet rolls,Bus fare, rosin for your mother’s violin.We’re completing our task. The tip I leftFor the waitress filters downLike rain, wetting the new roots of a childPerhaps, a belligerent cat that won’t let goOf a balled sock until there’s chicken to eat.As far as I can tell, daughter, it works like this:You buy crayons from a stationer, a bag of applesFrom the farmer’s market, and what dollarsAre passed on help others buy pencils, a guitar,Tickets to a matinee movie.If we buy a goldfish, someone tries on a hat.If we buy crayons, someone walks home with a broom.A tip, a small purchase here and there,And things just keep going. I guess.

OVERSTATEMENT You’ve got it all She has the most beautiful voice you’ll

ever hear He was so mean; He was a Hitler Their romance is as dangerous as

Romeo and Juliet’s All of the problems in this country have

been caused by Democrats (or Republicans)

I’M NOBODY! WHO ARE YOU? Emily Dickinson

I’m Nobody! Who are you?Are you—Nobody—Too?Then there’s a pair of us!Don’t tell! they’d advertise—you know!

How dreary—to be—Somebody!How public—like a Frog—To tell one’s name— the livelong June —To an admiring Bog!

PARADOX Will bite when cornered (ad for a tire)

Divergence or variation in the word biteBite would normally mean with teeth; this

means with the tread of the tires It’s a Sucker (ad for a vacuum cleaner)

Divergence or variation in the word suckerSucker would normally mean someone who

is easily tricked; this means to actually suck in the dirt

THE SECRET Denise Levertov

Two girls discover the secret of life in a sudden line of poetry.

I who don’t know the secret wrote the line. They told me

(through a third person) they had found it but not what it was not even

What line it was. No doubt by now, more than a week later, they have forgotten the secret,

the line, the name of the poem. I love them for finding what I can’t find,

and for loving me for the line I wrote, and for forgetting it so that

a thousand times, till death finds them, they may discover it again, in other lines

in other happenings. And for wanting to know it, for

assuming there is such a secret, yes, for that most of all.

TECHNIQUES Enjambment Onomatopoeia Alliteration Assonance Consonance Repetition Rhyme Imagery

ENJAMBMENT The continuation of a sentence from one

line of a poem into the next A run-on line Makes the reader’s eye follow the line Can help with the poem’s meter & flow Is, however, used in organic poetry, too

THE PEACE OF WILD THINGS Wendell BerryWhen despair for the world grows in me and I wake in the night at the least sound in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be, I go and lie down where the wood drake rests in this beauty on the water, and the great heron

feeds. I come into the peace of wild things who do not tax their lives with forethought of grief. I come into the presence of still water. And I feel above me the day-blind stars waiting with their light. For a time I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

ONOMATOPOEIA Sound words

CrashBangTootBleepSizzleSwishPowWhack

HONKY TONK IN CLEVELAND, OHIO Carl Sandburg It's a jazz affair, drum crashes and cornet razzes.The trombone pony neighs and the tuba jackass snorts. The banjo tickles and titters too awful. The chippies talk about the funnies in the papers. The cartoonists weep in their beer. Ship riveters talk with their feet To the feet of floozies under the tables. A quartet of white hopes mourn with interspersed snickers: "I got the blues. I got the blues. I got the blues." And . . . as we said earlier: The cartoonists weep in their beer.

ALLITERATION Repetition of same sound in a poem

Must have two or more words with same sound

Tongue twistersPeter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppersShelly picks sea shells at the sea shore

Calls attention to certain wordsHe who laughs last laughs first. Time and tide wait for no man.

THE BELLS

By Edgar Alan Poe I (of IV)

Hear the sledges with the bells - Silver bells!What a world of merriment their melody foretells!How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle,In the icy air of night!While the stars that oversprinkleAll the heavens seem to twinkleWith a crystalline delight;Keeping time, time, time,In a sort of Runic rhyme,To the tintinnabulation that so musically wellsFrom the bells, bells, bells, bells,Bells, bells, bells - From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells.

ASSONANCE Repetition of VOWEL sounds in words

that are close to each other John Betjeman's 'A Subaltern's Love

Song' "westering, questioning settles the sun / On

your low-leaded window”

A ROSE FOR JANETI knowthis rose is onlyan ink-and-paper rosebut see how it grows and goeson growingbeneath your eyes:a rose in flowerhas had (almost) its vegetable hourwhilst myrose of spaces and typographycan reappear at will(your will)whenever you repeatthis ceremony of the eyefrom the beginningand thuslearn howto resurrect a rosethat’s instantaneousperennialand perfect now

By Charles Tomlinson

CONSONANCE repetition of similar consonant sounds,

especially at the ends of words lost and past confess and dismiss

STOPPING BY WOODS ON A SNOWY EVENING By Robert Frost Whose woods these are I think I know.

His house is in the village though; He will not see me stopping here To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer To stop without a farmhouse near Between the woods and frozen lake The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake To ask if there is some mistake. The only other sound's the sweep Of 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. 

This poem provides a good example of Assonance and Consonance. The “s” sound.

http://www.types-of-poetry.org.uk/stopping-by-woods-on-a-snowy-evening.htm

REPETITION Harrison Fuller

    Repetition can be good

Repetition can be bad Repetition can make you smile Repetition can make you mad

To repeat a specific word That is repetition Repetition can take a hold That is the repeating mission

Repetition is used in life Repetition is used in speech Repetition is used in writing Repetition is in reach

To repeat a repeatable word Gives speech a repeatable rhyme The repeatable rhyme has a repeatable pattern Which is not a repeatable crime

Repetition can be annoying Repetition can be a pain Repetition can get better Repetition can repeatedly gain

When an intelligent word is repeated It repeatedly loses its awe Repeating it often loses value But mild repetition adds more

Repetition will reappear Repetition will come round Repetition will be seen again Repetition’s a familiar sound

I’ll repeat what I said at the beginning And I’ll repeat it at the end Repetition may do some good But it’ll send you repeatedly round the bend

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/repetition/

RHYMECome onGet a clueYou know how to rhymeYou do!

The adjacent poem is written by Sarah Teasdale and is titled, “There will come soft rains”

There will come soft rains and the smell of the ground,

And swallows circling with their shimmering sound;

And frogs in the pools singing at night,

And wild plum-trees in tremulous white;

Robins will wear their feathery fire

Whistling their whims on a low fence-wire;

And not one will know of the war, not one

Will care at last when it done.

Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree

If mankind perished utterly;

And Spring herself, when she woke at dawn,

Would scarcely know that we were gone.

Each couplet has an end rhyme.

IMAGERY Words paint pictures Makes experience more real for reader Impact of meaning enhanced Every word counts

Active verbsFun wordsMeaningful adjectives

CHERRY BLOSSOMS ADRIFT By Mary O. Fumento, 1999Pink petals passing

Scents above so highPainted porcelain perfectionBlossoms caress the sky

Swaying silent shroudSuitors strolling byPink petals passingLover's gentle sigh

Pastel hues fallingSlow fluttering gracePink petals passingLining streams in lace

Pink petals passingSmoothest transit bySoft essence floatingIn most subtle lullaby

Inducing springtime slumberUpon a satin shoreSailing with the currentPink petals pass before

http://www.maryfumento.com/poetry/imagery.html

TYPES OF POEMS Haiku Cinquain Limerick Free verse