mrsfielke.files.wordpress.com · Web viewA limerick is a five-line poem written with one couplet...

POETRY – Grade 8

Starry, starry nightPaint your palette blue and grey,Look out on a summer's day,With eyes that know the darkness in my soul.Shadows on the hills,Sketch the trees and the daffodils,Catch the breeze and the winter chills,In colors on the snowy linen land.

Now I understand what you tried to say to me,How you suffered for your sanity,How you tried to set them free.They would not listen, they did not know how.Perhaps they'll listen now.

Starry, starry night.Flaming flowers that brightly blaze,Swirling clouds in violet haze,Reflect in Vincent's eyes of china blue.Colors changing hue, morning field of amber grain,

Weathered faces lined in pain,

Are soothed beneath the artist's loving hand.

Now I understand what you tried to say to me,How you suffered for your sanity,How you tried to set them free.They would not listen, they did not know how.Perhaps they'll listen now.

For they could not love you,But still your love was true.And when no hope was left in sightOn that starry, starry night,You took your life, as lovers often do.But I could have told you, Vincent,This world was never meant for oneAs beautiful as you.

Starry, starry night.Portraits hung in empty halls,Frameless head on nameless walls,With eyes that watch the world and can't forget.

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Like the strangers that you've met,The ragged men in the ragged clothes,The silver thorn of bloody rose,Lie crushed and broken on the virgin snow.

Now I think I know what you tried to say to me,

How you suffered for your sanity,How you tried to set them free.They would not listen, they're not listening still.Perhaps they never will...

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Name:

POETRY – Grade 8

ContentsChain Poems.......................................................3Are songs poetry?..............................................4Limerick...............................................................9Ballads................................................................15Imagery..............................................................26Simile..................................................................31Metaphors..........................................................34Onomatopoeia..................................................41Analysis and Appreciation Questions..........50Your Poems.......................................................54

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Are songs poetry?Molly Malone

Irish Folk Song

In Dublin's fair city, where the girls are so pretty

I first set my eyes on sweet Molly Malone

As she wheeled her wheelbarrow through streets broad and narrow

Crying cockles and mussels alive a-live O!

A-live a-live O! A-live a-live O!


She was a fishmonger and sure it was no wonder

For so were her father and mother before

And they both wheeled their barrows through streets broad and narrow


She died of a fever and no one could save her

And that was the end of sweet Molly Malone

Now her ghost wheels her barrow through streets broad and narrow

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ACTIVITY

What is rhyme?

Make some educated guesses about what rules exist around rhyming.e.g. (note this is not true) Rhymes must always end with the letter ‘E’

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Definition of rhyme:

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POETRY – Grade 8

VincentBy Don McLean

Starry, starry nightPaint your palette blue and grey,

Look out on a summer's day,

With eyes that know the darkness in my soul.

Shadows on the hills,

Sketch the trees and the daffodils,

Catch the breeze and the winter chills,

In colors on the snowy linen land.

Now I understand what you tried to say to me,

How you suffered for your sanity,

How you tried to set them free.

They would not listen, they did not know how.

Perhaps they'll listen now.

Starry, starry night.

Flaming flowers that brightly blaze,

Swirling clouds in violet haze,

Reflect in Vincent's eyes of china blue.

Colors changing hue, morning field of amber grain,

Weathered faces lined in pain,

Are soothed beneath the artist's loving hand.

Now I understand what you tried to say to me,


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They would not listen, they did not know how.

Perhaps they'll listen now.

For they could not love you,

But still your love was true.

And when no hope was left in sight

On that starry, starry night,

You took your life, as lovers often do.

But I could have told you, Vincent,

This world was never meant for one

As beautiful as you.

Starry, starry night.

Portraits hung in empty halls,

Frameless head on nameless walls,

With eyes that watch the world and can't forget.

Like the strangers that you've met,

The ragged men in the ragged clothes,

The silver thorn of bloody rose,

Lie crushed and broken on the virgin snow.

Now I think I know what you tried to say to me,



They would not listen, they're not listening still.

Perhaps they never will...

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POETRY – Grade 8

Limericks by Edward Lear from A Book of Nonsense

LimerickThere was an Old Man of Kilkenny,Who never had more than a penny;

He spent all that money,In onions and honey,

That wayward Old Man of Kilkenny.

LimerickThere was an Old Man with a flute,

A sarpint ran into his boot;But he played day and night,

Till the sarpint took flight,And avoided that man with a flute.

Limericks by Edward Lear

LimerickThere was an Old Man of Vienna,Who lived upon Tincture of Senna;

When that did not agree,He took Camomile Tea,

That nasty Old Man of Vienna.

LimerickThere was an Old Person whose habits,

Induced him to feed upon rabbits;When he'd eaten eighteen,He turned perfectly green,

Upon which he relinquished those habits.

LimerickThere was a Young Lady whose eyes,

Were unique as to colour and size;When she opened them wide,

People all turned aside,And started away in surprise.

LimerickThere was an Old Man of the Wrekin

Whose shoes made a horrible creakingBut they said, 'Tell us whether,

Your shoes are of leather,Or of what, you Old Man of the Wrekin?'

Limericks by Edward Lear

LimerickThere was an Old Man who supposed,

That the street door was partially closed;But some very large rats,

Ate his coats and his hats,While that futile old gentleman dozed.

LimerickThere was a Young Lady of Dorking,

Who bought a large bonnet for walking;But its colour and size,So bedazzled her eyes,

That she very soon went back to Dorking.

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LimerickA limerick is a five-line poem written with one couplet and one triplet. If a

couplet is a two-line rhymed poem, then a triplet would be a three-line rhymed

poem. The rhyme pattern is a a b b a with lines 1, 2 and 5 containing 3 beats and

rhyming, and lines 3 and 4 having two beats and rhyming. Some people say that

the limerick was invented by soldiers returning from France to the Irish town of

Limerick in the 1700's.

A Form of Poetry? Limerick Poems? Limericks the genre?

The form of poetry referred to as Limerick poems have received incredibly bad

press and dismissed as not having a rightful place amongst what is seen as

'cultivated poetry'. The reason for this is three-fold:

• The content of many limericks is often of a bawdy and humorous nature.

• A Limerick as a poetry form is by nature simple and short - limericks

only have five lines.

• And finally the somewhat dubious history of limericks have contributed

to the critics attitudes.

Limericks - The History

Variants of the form of poetry referred to as Limerick poems can be traced back

to the fourteenth century English history. Limericks were used in Nursery

Rhymes and other poems for children. But as limericks were short, relatively

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easy to compose and bawdy or crude in nature they were often repeated by

beggars or the working classes in the British pubs and taverns of the fifteenth,

sixteenth and seventh centuries. The poets who created these limericks were

therefore often drunkards!

Where does the term 'Limerick' come from?

The word derives from the Irish town of Limerick. Apparently a pub song or

tavern chorus based on the refrain "Will you come up to Limerick?" where, of

course, such bawdy songs or 'Limericks' were sung.

Limericks - The form

Limericks consist of five lines.

Lines 1, 2, and 5 of Limericks have seven to ten syllables and rhyme with one

another.

Lines 3 and 4 of Limericks have five to seven syllables and also rhyme with

each other.

Limericks - A Defence - Shakespeare even wrote Limericks!

Admittedly the content of Limericks can often verge on the indecent, the dirty,

or even the obscene, but they make people laugh! Limericks are easy to

remember! Limericks are short and no great talent is necessary to compose one

- Limericks are a form of poetry that everyone feels happy to try. Limericks as a

form of poetry have survived the test of time dating back for centuries! And

whilst the poetic and literary skills of Shakespeare are not necessary for the

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composition of a limerick the great Bard himself did in fact write limericks

which can be found in two of his greatest plays - Othello and King Lear.

The Limericks of Edward Lear - Limericks are Fun!!

Edward Lear's Book of Nonsense included the poetry form of Limericks. His

work with limericks were not in any way indecent and this particular book

proved to be extremely popular in the nineteenth century and this was

contributed to by the humorous magazine Punch which started printing

examples of limericks leading to a craze by its readers. The first edition of

Edward Lear's Book of Nonsense was published by Thomas McLean on 10th

February 1846. There were altogether seventy-two limericks in two volumes

which sold at 3s 6p each. These limericks have proven to be extremely popular

with children. Limericks are meant to be funny. They often contain hyperbole,

onomatopoeia, idioms, puns, and other figurative devices. The last line of a

good limerick contains the PUNCH LINE or "heart of the joke." As you work

with limericks, remember to have pun, I mean FUN! Say the following

limericks out loud and clap to the rhythm.

A flea and a fly in a flue

Were caught, so what could they do?

Said the fly, "Let us flee."

"Let us fly," said the flea.

So they flew through a flaw in the flue.

You will soon hear the distinctive beat pattern of all limericks. The rhythm is just as important in a limerick as the rhyme. Try completing this limerick.

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There once was a pauper named Meg

Who accidentally broke her _______.

She slipped on the ______.

Not once, but thrice

Take no pity on her, I __________.

1. Practice the rhythm of limericks by clapping you hands or snapping your fingers.

2. Think of some funny names, places, or situations.

3. Using the a a b b a 5-line form, write an original limerick.

4. How would you illustrate the page if your poem was published in a book

of limericks? What types of art would you use?

ACTIVITY

Write a limerick or two:

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What is a limerick?

Do you like them?

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Illuminate your limerick page as suggested above.

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BalladsDEFINITIONS

What is line in poetry?

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What is meter in poetry?

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In poetry, the meter (or metre) is the basic rhythmic structure of a verse or lines in verse.

The Camp Within the West

By Roderic Quinn

O DID you see a troop go by Way-weary and oppressed, Dead kisses on the drooping lip And a dead heart in the breast?

Yea, I have seen them one by one Way-weary and oppressed, And when I asked them, ‘Whither speed?’ They answered, ‘To the West!’

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http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Verse_(poetry)

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rhythm

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Poetry

POETRY – Grade 8

And were they pale as pale could be— Death-pale with haunted eyes, And did you see the hot white dust Range round their feet and rise?

Oh, they were pale as pale could be, And pale as an embered leaf; The hot white dust had risen, but They laid it with their grief.

Did no one say the way is long, And crave a little rest? Oh no, they said, ‘The night is nigh, Our camp is in the West!’

And did pain pierce their feet, as though The way with thorns were set, And were they visited by strange Dark angels of regret?

Oh yea, and some were mute as death, Though shot by many a dart, With them the salt of inward tears Went stinging through the heart.

And how are these wayfarers called, And whither do they wend? The Weary-Hearted—and their road At sunset hath and end.

Shed tears for them…Nay, nay, no tears! They yearn for endless rest; Perhaps large stars will burn above Their camp within the West.

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Roderic QuinnBiography of Roderic Quinn

Roderic Quinn (brother of Patrick Edward Quinn) was born in Sydney. His Irish parents had migrated, in 1853, to Australia. He received his education in Sydney together with his life long friends C.J.Brennan and E.J.Brady. He studied law for a while, then worked as a country schoolteacher. When he returned to Sydney he took a position as a freelance journalist. He wrote short stories for the 'Bulletin', and made a modest living from his poetry from the 1890s to the mid 1920s. His work was extremely appreciated by his contemporaries. He was linked with Victor Daly as poets of the 'Celtic Twilight'.

William Wordsworth

Strange Fits of Passion have I Known

Strange fits of passion have I known:And I will dare to tell,But in the Lover's ear alone,What once to me befell.

When she I loved looked every dayFresh as a rose in June,I to her cottage bent my way,Beneath an evening moon.

Upon the moon I fixed my eye,All over the wide lea;With quickening pace my horse drew nighThose paths so dear to me.

And now we reached the orchard-plot;And, as we climbed the hill,The sinking moon to Lucy's cotCame near, and nearer still.

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In one of those sweet dreams I slept,Kind Nature's gentlest boon!And all the while my eyes I keptOn the descending moon.

My horse moved on; hoof after hoofHe raised, and never stopped:When down behind the cottage roof,At once, the bright moon dropped.

What fond and wayward thoughts will slideInto a Lover's head!"O mercy!" to myself I cried,"If Lucy should be dead!"

"Strange fits of passion have I known" is a seven-stanza poem ballad by the English Romantic poet William Wordsworth. Composed during a sojourn in Germany in 1798, the poem was first published in the second edition of Lyrical Ballads (1800). The poem describes the poet's trip to his beloved Lucy's cottage, and his thoughts on the way. Each of its seven stanzas is four lines long and has a rhyming scheme of a-b-a-b.

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http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lyrical_Ballads

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lyrical_Ballads

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/William_Wordsworth

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Romanticism

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/England

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ballad

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stanza

POETRY – Grade 8

My Countryby

Dorothea Mackellar(1885 - 1968)

The love of field and coppice,Of green and shaded lanes.Of ordered woods and gardensIs running in your veins, Strong love of grey-blue distanceBrown streams and soft dim skiesI know but cannot share it,My love is otherwise.

I love a sunburnt country,A land of sweeping plains,Of ragged mountain ranges, Of droughts and flooding rains.I love her far horizons,I love her jewel-sea,Her beauty and her terror -The wide brown land for me!

A stark white ring-barked forestAll tragic to the moon, The sapphire-misted mountains,The hot gold hush of noon.Green tangle of the brushes,Where lithe lianas coil,And orchids deck the tree-topsAnd ferns the warm dark soil.

Core of my heart, my country!Her pitiless blue sky,When sick at heart, around us,We see the cattle die-But then the grey clouds gather,And we can bless again

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The drumming of an army,The steady, soaking rain.

Core of my heart, my country!Land of the Rainbow Gold,For flood and fire and famine,She pays us back threefold-Over the thirsty paddocks,Watch, after many days,The filmy veil of greennessThat thickens as we gaze.

An opal-hearted country,A wilful, lavish land-All you who have not loved her,You will not understand-Though earth holds many splendours, Wherever I may die,I know to what brown countryMy homing thoughts will fly.

Dorothea Mackellar

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My Country – a famous Australian Ballad

Question One

One of the most recited poems in Australian literature is Dorothea Mackellar’s ‘My Country’. It is not as popular today as in the past. Can you suggest why?

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My Country

By Oscar Krahnvohl

I love a sunburnt country, A land of open drains Mid-urban sprawl expanded For cost-accounting gains; Broad, busy bulldozed acres

Once wastes of fern and trees Now rapidly enriching Investors overseas.

A nature-loving country Beneath whose golden wattles The creek is fringed with newspapers And lined with broken bottles. Far in her distant outback Still whose cities chafe

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I find hidden pools where bathing Is relatively safe.

A music-loving country Where rings throughout the land The jingle sweet enjoining Devotion to the brand. O, hark the glad transistors Whence midnight, dawn and noon, Cry forth her U.S. idols A trifle out of tune.

Brave military pylons That march o'er scenic hills;Fair neon lights, extolling Paint, puppy food and pills! I love her massive chimneys, Production's, profit's pride, Interminably pouring, Pollution high and wide.

A democratic country!Where, safe from fear's attacks Earth's children all are equal (Save yellows, browns and blacks). Though Man in Space adventure, Invade the planets nine, What shall we find to equal This sunburnt land of mine?

My Country – A Comparison

Oscar Krahnvohl’s version of ‘My Country’ appeared more than seventy years after Dorothea Mackellar’s poem had been published. Whose view of Australia is the truer? Or has the most truthiness to quote modern philosopher Stephen Colbert.

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State your view and explain why it is your view?

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Which of the two poems appeals to you more, please give your explanation, i.e why do you think it appeals to you more?

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Can you see where Oscar has taken ideas from Dorothea and changed them around? Circle these areas on the 2nd poem and the 1st for easy comparison.

Activity – panel

As the representative for your tribe, think about all the above questions for your statement.

e.g. We like the second poem better because...

we see where Oscar got his ideas from Dorothea in comparing these fragments from the poems...

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We think ...... is more true... because....

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ImageryUnderstanding the use of imagery in poetry is essential for a comprehension of

the overall meaning. Images are essentially word-pictures and they usually work

by a method of association. This means that the images are created by

associations that we make as readers within the linguistic context of the text.

For example, the word "red" immediately creates an image or picture of the

colour red in our minds. This colour is associated or has connotations with other

feelings or images, like anger, and this increases the depth of the poem. The

important thing to remember is that the images are an instrument that the poet

uses to express his or her intentions or feelings. Understanding the use of

images means understanding the essential meaning of the poem. Think of

images as useful "tools" that the poet uses in order to reveal or explain the

meaning that is in the poem

For our example we will look at selected sections from Preludes by T.S. Eliot.

The central theme of the poem is about the feeling of despair at the decline and

decadence of modern civilization.

This poem was written in 1917, when there was a worldwide critique and

questioning of the values of contemporary western civilization. Due to many

factors, especially the First World War and the economic depression, many

artists, poets and philosophers felt that modern industrial civilization had lost its

sense of meaning and direction. There was a general criticism of the status quo.

Preludes falls within this ambit. In this poem, Eliot describes the modern city as

a vacuum of meaning and uses imagery to intensify this feeling.

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Preludes by T.S. Eliot

The winter evening settles down

With smell of steaks in passageways.

Six o’clock.

The burnt-out ends of smoky days.

And now a gusty shower wraps

The grimy scraps

Of withered leaves about your feet

And newspapers from vacant lots;

The showers beat

On broken blinds and chimney-pots,

And at the corner of the street

A lonely cab-horse steams and stamps.

And then the lighting of the lamps.

The morning comes to consciousness

Of faint stale smells of beer

From the sawdust-trampled street

With all its muddy feet that press

To early coffee-stands.

With the other masquerades

That time resumes,

One thinks of all the hands

That are raising dingy shades

In a thousand furnished rooms.

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The first lines suggest a feeling of decline and despair. How does the imagery

help to achieve this effect? Notice the use of "winter" images. Winter is usually

associated with a lack of growth and a loss of vitality. The poem is suggesting

that the modern city is in a state of "winter" and has lost its direction and

vitality.

The poet builds on this image to suggest a further delineation of the modern

state of mental societal decadence. The image of " smell of steaks" paints a

picture of a polluted and mundane environment. The fourth line emphasizes this

feeling of loss of vitality coupled with urban squalor. The day, and the society,

is associated with an image of a burnt-out (read loss of energy) cigarette end.

The poet carefully couples images of decadence with images that we usually

associate with the modern urban milieu, like steaks and cigarettes. He places

these ordinary images into a context that suggests a criticism of the modern

world and lifestyle. The point is again emphasized with another image of

decadence and dirt in " The grimy scraps".

The image of " withered leaves" again points to the winter motif and paints a

clear picture of death and decline. Always remember that the poet is not only

referring to leaves here; he is using this image, through association, to connect

to the general idea of loss of meaning in the modern urban world.

The second stanza intensifies its attack on the modern world. The first two lines

clearly express the idea that modern life is little more than a drunken hangover.

The feeling of personal and social decadence is strengthened by the images in

these lines:

"The morning comes to consciousness

Of faint stale smells of beer"

The final image of the second stanza achieves a brilliant but shocking image of

the essence of the poem.

"One thinks of all the hands

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That are raising dingy shades

In a thousand furnished rooms."

This image presents us with a particularly clear impression of the intention of

the poem. We can imagine all the people repeating the same meaningless

actions. They all raise " dingy shades" to greet the day. Note the use of the

adjective to describe the shades, which again points to the sense of squalor and

decadence of the modern city. More importantly, this image suggests a sense of

repetitive meaninglessness. Throughout the poem the poet uses the images to

bolster and construct his impression of the modern city. Once the function of

these images is understood, then the meaning of the poem becomes clear.

MemoryFrom ‘Cats’, lyrics (lyric poetry) by Sir Timothy Rice

Midnight - not a sound from the pavement.

Has the moon lost her memory,

She is smiling alone.

In the lamplight, the withered leaves collect at my feet,

And the wind begins to moan.

Memory - all alone in the moonlight.

I can smile at the old days,

I was beautiful then.

I remember the time I knew what happiness was.

Let the memory live again.

Every street light seems to beat a fatalistic warning.

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and soon it will be morning.

Daylight, I must wait for the sunrise.

I must think of a new life,

And I mustn't give in.

When the dawn comes tonight will be a memory too,

And a new day will begin.

Burnt out ends of smokey days,

the stale cold smell of morning.

The streetlamp dies, another night is over,

another day is dawning.

Touch me, it's so easy to leave me

All alone with the memory

Of my days in the sun.

If you touch me, you'll understand what happiness is.

Look, a new day has begun.

ACTIVITY:

Mark all the examples of Imagery in Memory and in Prelude in your handouts.

Write a few comments about anything that strikes you as similar between the

poem and the song? E.g. is there a common theme or similar image?

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SimileAdapted from ‘Elements of Poetry by JP Chard

The aim of poets is not merely to express a certain feeling as clearly as they can,

but to express it in such a way that it stirs up or produces the same feeling in the

reader.

We are learning that close attention must be given to the meaning of words if

the full effect of poetry is to be attained. But poets are not always content to let

individual words do the whole work of interpreting their mood; they often

strengthen the force of individual words by using similes and metaphors.

A simile is a comparison between different groups or kinds of objects, in which

the feature of similarity flashes before the mind and is so striking that the points

of difference are not noticeable. A simile requires much thought in the making.

I wandered lonely as a cloud

That floats on high o’er and hills

Note: (o’er is an old fashioned contraction of over)

Wordsworth here wishes to emphasise the idea of loneliness. “I am wandered

lonely” expresses the idea clearly enough, but not with sufficient emphasis.

What could his loneliness be compared to? This being a nature poem: the poet’s

thoughts naturally turned to nature to supply a comparison. If you ask yourself

what in nature is isolated from other objects? It would not be long before the

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thought of a cloud would come to your mind. But, simply, “cloud” would not

give the full degree of the poet’s feeling; because clouds can rest on the surface

of the earth, and so be in contact with objects.

It must be a cloud far removed from the earth hence: “our cloud that floats on

high over vales and hills.” When we picture a cloud isolated in the sky–faraway

from the objects with which it seems to be naturally connected–the idea of

isolation, which is the essence of loneliness, is strengthened. The abstract idea

or concept of loneliness is then interpreted by the concrete / reality and its

implication is brought out more fully.

The greater the number of points of resemblance that a comparison brings out,

the more is the idea produced. Consider this description:

Her eyes were bright and of such an exquisite shade of blue

that words cannot adequately describe them.

This amounts to confessing failure in an attempt to describe her eyes. The writer

has used to 20 words in making the confession. Clear, bright eyes can be

pictured, but we are left with only a vague idea of their blueness. The reader’s

mental picture may or may not be that of the writer. Dealing with this subject

the poet has resorted to a simile and has written:

Her goodly eyes, like sapphires shining bright.

Note (goodly means large or of a good size or amount)

That statement leaves no doubt concerning its meaning: the clearness,

brightness, and exquisite blue of the Sapphire are well known to most of us.

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To form a simile, then, we think of something the outstanding feature, all

features, of which closely resemble those that we wish to emphasise.

More on Simileby Denise Rodgers

Have you ever smelled stinky feet? (Perhaps your own?) What do they smell like? (This is how to think like a poet, especially when you're trying to write a funny simile poem.) Do these stinky feet of your memory smell like a dirty locker room? Spoiled cabbage? (Yuck!) Smelly feet remind me a lot of pungent cheese, which is entirely why I don't eat the stuff. A clue to humour... there is something funny about stinky feet, AND about stinky cheese. It might be the word, "stinky," which is the perfect nickname for any sibling who deserves it!

SIMILE POEMS

Your Feet

Your feet smell so bad,

just like limburger cheese,

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that I'm holding my nose tight

between my two knees.

by Denise Rodgers

My Hands

My hands are so rough,

just like sandpaper skin.

And that's why I'm buying

a full hand-cream bin.

by Denise Rodgers

AVTIVITY

Write some simile examples of your own:

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MetaphorsEnjoy these metaphor examples! Metaphors are an extremely useful literary

device -- whether you are writing a funny poem, a serious poem, structured

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poetry or free verse. In fact, novelists and nonfiction writers alike use metaphor.

To use metaphor is human, even if you are not a writer. Here's why . . .

Definition of Metaphor

A metaphor is a literary device that involves describing someone or something

by comparing it to something else without use of "like" or "as." Comparisons

that use "like" or "as" are similes , another well-used device.

NOTE: Similes, imagery and metaphor can all be defined as figurative

language. Have you ever heard anyone say;

“Do you mean that figuratively or literally?”

What does this question mean?

E.g. if someone said to you;

“I am so hot I am going to die?”

Is it likely that they are speaking literally or figuratively?

What is the difference? Please write your answer below?

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POETRY – Grade 8

Metaphors and similes are how symbolism gets into our writing. And humans

love symbolism. We like to feel that things "mean something," and metaphors

help satisfy that desire; not only that, these similes and metaphorical

comparisons paint vivid picture in our minds.

Now, generally, when I'm writing, I don't consciously think, "Gee, I'd better

pepper these babies with metaphors." Instead, metaphors happen when you

relax and describe something in the most vivid way possible.

Metaphor Examples

If you're interested in writing some metaphors yourself, perhaps these can rev

you up and get you started on some metaphors of your own. (Please note that

you were just compared to a car, "revving up," in what was not so obviously a

subtle metaphor.)

His face was a blue moon pocked with craters.

Her eyes were darting searchlights, scanning the room for her rival.

The Ferrari was a personal jet, set to take off before dawn.

His teeth were hardened blue cheese nuggets, speckled with green and blue.

When he ate, he was a crocodile, opening wide and snapping his jaws suddenly

for the kill.

Her purse was a soft-sided trash bin, filled to the top with bits of used tissues,

crumpled papers, and a half-eaten apple.

Her house was a wild circus act, decked out in hot pink and lavender, coated

with green dots.

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She was a walking colour wheel, always wearing just about every shade

possible, all at once.

He was a stainless steel ruler, tall, straight and always measured in response.

Her hair was a fierce lion's mane, never washed and sticking out in wild

directions.

Her elderly fingers were thin gnarled branches, twisting oddly from the stem of

her palms.

Well, that was fun! I could write metaphors all day. The trick is to expand upon

them to tell a story, or in my case, write a poem (or two or three or more). If

you've enjoyed these metaphor examples, it's time move on to metaphor poems.

Take a Poem to Lunch

I'd love to take a poem to lunch

or treat it to a wholesome brunch

of fresh cut fruit and apple crunch.

I'd spread it neatly on the cloth

beside a bowl of chicken broth

and watch a mug of root beer froth.

I'd feel the words collect the mood,

the taste and feel of tempting food

popped in the mouth and slowly chewed,

and get the smell of fresh baked bread

that sniffs inside and fills your head

with thoughts that no word ever said.

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POETRY – Grade 8

And as the words rest on the page

beside the cumin, salt and sage,

and ever slowly starts to age,

like soup that simmers as it's stirred,

ingredients get mixed and blurred

and blends in taste with every word

until the poet gets it right,

the taste and smell

and sound and sight,

the words that make it fit.

Just write.

by Denise Rodgers

ACTIVITY

Write some examples of metaphor

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Write your own poems using simile and metaphor

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The Tiger

By William Blake

Tiger Tiger. burning bright,

In the forests of the night;

What immortal hand or eye.

Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies.

Burnt the fire of thine eyes?

On what wings dare he aspire?

What the hand, dare seize the fire?

And what shoulder, & what art,

Could twist the sinews of thy heart?

And when thy heart began to beat.

What dread hand? & what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain,

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In what furnace was thy brain?

What the anvil? what dread grasp.

Dare its deadly terrors clasp?

When the stars threw down their spears

And watered heaven with their tears:

Did he smile His work to see?

Did he who made the lamb make thee?

Tiger Tiger burning bright,

In the forests of the night:

What immortal hand or eye,

Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

Emily Dickinson (1830–86). Complete Poems. 1924.

Part One: Life

VIII

A WOUNDED deer leaps highest,I ’ve heard the hunter tell;’T is but the ecstasy of death,And then the brake is still. The smitten rock that gushes, 5The trampled steel that springs:A cheek is always redderJust where the hectic stings!

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Mirth is the mail of anguish,In which it caution arm, 10Lest anybody spy the bloodAnd “You ’re hurt” exclaim!

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Onomatopoeia

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The Congo

By Vachel Lindsay

Fat black bucks in a wine-barrel room,

Barrel-house kings, with feet unstable,

[A deep rolling bass.]

Sagged and reeled and pounded on the table,

Pounded on the table,

Beat an empty barrel with the handle of a broom,

Hard as they were able,

Boom, boom, BOOM,

With a silk umbrella and the handle of a broom,

Boomlay, boomlay, boomlay, BOOM.

THEN I had religion, THEN I had a vision.

I could not turn from their revel in derision.

[More deliberate. Solemnly chanted.]

THEN I SAW THE CONGO, CREEPING THROUGH THE BLACK,

CUTTING THROUGH THE FOREST WITH A GOLDEN TRACK.

Then along that riverbank

A thousand miles

Tattooed cannibals danced in files;

Then I heard the boom of the blood-lust song of 71

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[A rapidly piling climax of speed and racket.]

And a thigh-bone beating on a tin-pan gong.

And "BLOOD" screamed the whistles and the fifes of the warriors,

"BLOOD" screamed the skull-faced, lean witch-doctors,

"Whirl ye the deadly voo-doo rattle,

Harry the uplands,

Steal all the cattle,

Rattle-rattle, rattle-rattle,

Bing.

Boomlay, boomlay, boomlay, BOOM,"

[With a philosophic pause.]

A roaring, epic, rag-time tune

From the mouth of the Congo

To the Mountains of the Moon.

Death is an Elephant,

[Shrilly and with a heavily accented metre.]

Torch-eyed and horrible,

Foam-flanked and terrible.

BOOM, steal the pygmies,

BOOM, kill the Arabs,

BOOM, kill the white men,

HOO, HOO, HOO.

[Like the wind in the chimney.]

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Listen to the creepy proclamation,

Blown through the lairs of the forest-nation,

Blown past the white-ants' hill of clay,

Blown past the marsh where the butterflies play: --

"Be careful what you do,

[All the o sounds very golden. Heavy accents very heavy.

Light accents very light. Last line whispered.]

Or Mumbo-Jumbo, God of the Congo,

And all of the other

Gods of the Congo,

Mumbo-Jumbo will hoo-doo you,

Mumbo-Jumbo will hoo-doo you,

Mumbo-Jumbo will hoo-doo you."

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ACTIVITY

Make some notes about the congo.

What figures of speech did you find?

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Onomatopoeia is language with flair!

What does this statement mean?

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Bitter Child

By Sharon Collins

The bitter child knows no fears,

And travels less than all his peers,

Not gratified by discipline,

He trusts his thoughts upon a whim,

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Though innocence has risen,

He cannot see as he believes, he has no indecision.

For heavens sake, one must relate, to what a child doth need,

Clueless is the adolescence when trying to succeed,

Upon the tracks of others' lives who've fallen from above,

And landed right before your eyes to guide you and resolve,

While knowledge gains a detour from a broken path,

And grows the child inside of us, and frees him from his wrath.

ACTIVITY

Read and re-read Bitter Child.

Find at least two lines that move you – i.e. make you sad or confused or feel something for this child; write down what your feel.

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What is the point of this kind of poem...why would a poet want to make us feel

what he/she is feeling?

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POETRY – Grade 8

The Charge of the Light Brigade

By Alfred Lord Tennyson

Half a league, half a league, Half a league onward, All in the valley of Death Rode the six hundred. 'Forward, the Light Brigade! Charge for the guns!' he said: Into the valley of Death Rode the six hundred.

'Forward, the Light Brigade!' Was there a man dismay'd ? Not tho' the soldier knew Some one had blunder'd: Their's not to make reply, Their's not to reason why, Their's but to do and die: Into the valley of Death Rode the six hundred.

Cannon to right of them, Cannon to left of them, Cannon in front of them Volley'd and thunder'd; Storm'd at with shot and shell, Boldly they rode and well, Into the jaws of Death, Into the mouth of Hell Rode the six hundred.

Flash'd all their sabres bare, Flash'd as they turn'd in air Sabring the gunners there, Charging an army, while All the world wonder'd: Plunged in the battery-smoke Right thro' the line they broke; Cossack and Russian Reel'd from the sabre-stroke

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Shatter'd and sunder'd. Then they rode back, but not Not the six hundred.

Cannon to right of them, Cannon to left of them, Cannon behind them Volley'd and thunder'd; Storm'd at with shot and shell, While horse and hero fell, They that had fought so well Came thro' the jaws of Death, Back from the mouth of Hell, All that was left of them, Left of six hundred.

When can their glory fade ? O the wild charge they made! All the world wonder'd. Honour the charge they made! Honour the Light Brigade, Noble six hundred!

NotesAt the Battle of Balaclava in 1854 during the Crimean War, the Light

Brigade, consisting of British cavalry regiments, charged down a narrow valley against Russian Troops who had captured some British guns. There were Russian troops who had captured some British guns. The Russians were at the end of the valley as well as on each side of it. The attack should never have been made, for it had no chance of success: It was due to a blunder brought on by misunderstanding an order sent by the commander-in-chief.

The obedience and courage of the soldiers, of whom less than a third survived won great fame for the Light Brigade.

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Analysis and Appreciation Questions...

When using these analysis questions, read each poem at least twice and write comments on the poem itself (both specific line-oriented remarks in the margins and a general response to the poem as a whole in a paragraph at the bottom).

• Do you like the poem? Why? Or why not? Favourite section, phrase, or

line? • Does the title help ground you as a reader in a dramatic context? If

there is no title, why do you think it's untitled? Does it need a title? Suggest one?

• Do the poem's images evoke emotions? Do these advance the poem's

import? • Consider language. Is the diction effective? Surprising? Or predictable? • Does the poem use rhythm and meter? If so, does this enhance your

reading? • Think about the poem's music. How well is rhyme used? • Do line breaks impart suspense, tension, hurry? Do they aid

understanding? • Consider content and theme. How would you paraphrase the poem? • Does the poem's tone seem appropriate for the apparent sense and

subject? • Does the poem seem unified? How do the poem's various parts

contribute to unity? Narrative? A visual pattern? Repetitive motifs?

(Adapted from Craft of Poetry by Vince Gotera, 2001)

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Examples of Haiku

Haiku softly sings

and a word picture is formed.

A feast for the mind.

5 syllables

7

5

Those who came before

shall forever be with us,

always remembered.

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Poetry Word puzzle

Create your own poetry word puzzle using words you already know or words from your handout.Tomorrow your partner will try to find all the words in your puzzle.The puzzle written correctly and containing the most words from our unit will win a prize.The class can also nominate and vote for their favourite word puzzle. The composer will win the peer choice prize.

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Name 1-5 tribe members names

1 2 3 4 5

Speaker One

Speaker Two

Speaker Three

Speaker Four

Speaker Five

This table is here as a checklist to be sure that everyone has a chance to be heard

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POETRY – Grade 8

AppendixNot UnderstoodBy Thomas Bracken

Not understood, we move along asunder;

Our paths grow wider as the seasons creep

Along the years; we marvel and we wonder

Why life is life, and then we fall asleep

Not understood.

Not understood, we gather false impressions

And hug them closer as the years go by;

Till virtues often seem to us transgressions;

And thus men rise and fall, and live and die

Not understood.

Not understood! Poor souls with stunted vision

Oft measure giants with their narrow gauge;

The poisoned shafts of falsehood and derision

Are oft impelled 'gainst those who mould the age,

Not understood.

Not understood! The secret springs of action

Which lie beneath the surface and the show,

Are disregarded; with self-satisfaction

We judge our neighbours, and they often go

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Not understood.

Not understood! How trifles often change us!

The thoughtless sentence and the fancied slight

Destroy long years of friendship, and estrange us,

And on our souls there falls a freezing blight;

Not understood.

Not understood! How many breasts are aching

For lack of sympathy! Ah! day by day

How many cheerless, lonely hearts are breaking!

How many noble spirits pass away,

Not understood.

O God! that men would see a little clearer,

Or judge less harshly where they cannot see!

O God! that men would draw a little nearer

To one another, -- they'd be nearer Thee,

And understood.

Some information about the author of Not Understood

Thomas Bracken, the son of Margaret Kernan and her husband, Thomas

Bracken, was born at Clonee, County Meath, Ireland, probably on 21 December

1843. His mother died a few days after his birth, and his father, a postmaster,

died when he was about 10 years old. Thomas was cared for by an aunt until

about the age of 12, when he was sent to Australia to the care of his uncle, John

Kernan, a farmer at Moonee Ponds, near Melbourne. He worked on his uncle's of 71

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farm for about a year, and was then apprenticed to a chemist in Bendigo. After

about 18 months he went to work on a station at Colbinabbin, north-east of

Bendigo, where he became a proficient horseman and shearer. Little is known

of this period of Bracken's life, except that he began writing verse during these

years and published a volume, The haunted vale, in 1867.

Andy's Gone With CattleBy Henry Lawson

1888

Our Andy's gone to battle now 'Gainst Drought, the red marauder;

Our Andy's gone with cattle now Across the Queensland border.

He's left us in dejection now; Our hearts with him are roving.

It's dull on this selection now, Since Andy went a-droving.

Who now shall wear the cheerful face In times when things are slackest?

And who shall whistle round the place When Fortune frowns her blackest?

Oh, who shall cheek the squatter now When he comes round us snarling?

His tongue is growing hotter now Since Andy cross'd the Darling.

The gates are out of order now, In storms the "riders" rattle;

For far across the border now Our Andy's gone with cattle.

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Poor Aunty's looking thin and white; And Uncle's cross with worry;

And poor old Blucher howls all night Since Andy left Macquarie.

Oh, may the showers in torrents fall, And all the tanks run over;

And may the grass grow green and tall In pathways of the drover;

And may good angels send the rain On desert stretches sandy;

And when the summer comes again God grant 'twill bring us Andy.

This poem is an example of:Blank Verse

Mending WallBy Robert Frost

SOMETHING there is that doesn't love a wall,That sends the frozen-ground-swell under it,And spills the upper boulders in the sun; And makes gaps even two can pass abreast.The work of hunters is another thing:I have come after them and made repairWhere they have left not one stone on a stone,But they would have the rabbit out of hiding,To please the yelping dogs. The gaps I mean,No one has seen them made or heard them made,But at spring mending-time we find them there.I let my neighbour know beyond the hill;

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And on a day we meet to walk the lineAnd set the wall between us once again.We keep the wall between us as we go.To each the boulders that have fallen to each.And some are loaves and some so nearly ballsWe have to use a spell to make them balance:"Stay where you are until our backs are turned!"We wear our fingers rough with handling them.Oh, just another kind of out-door game,One on a side. It comes to little more:There where it is we do not need the wall:He is all pine and I am apple orchard.My apple trees will never get acrossAnd eat the cones under his pines, I tell him.He only says, "Good fences make good neighbours."Spring is the mischief in me, and I wonderIf I could put a notion in his head:"Why do they make good neighbours? Isn't itWhere there are cows? But here there are no cows.Before I built a wall I'd ask to knowWhat I was walling in or walling out,And to whom I was like to give offence. Something there is that doesn't love a wall,That wants it down." I could say "Elves" to him,But it's not elves exactly, and I'd ratherHe said it for himself. I see him thereBringing a stone grasped firmly by the topIn each hand, like an old-stone savage armed.He moves in darkness as it seems to me,Not of woods only and the shade of trees.He will not go behind his father's saying,

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And he likes having thought of it so wellHe says again, "Good fences make good neighbours."

What is black verse?

Any verse comprised of unrhymed lines all in the same meter.

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http://www.kristinegeorge.com/little_dog_and_duncan.html

POETRY – Grade 8

ACTIVITY

Extension

This is a great link if you want to dig a little deeper and expand your poetic

repertoire and understanding.

It is a unit written for university students so don’t expect yourself to understand

it all. Ask me if you need something explained.

http://www.uni.edu/~gotera/CraftOfPoetry/

Patrick Winstanley's collection of funny poetry

A Marriage Made in HeavenMr. Camel and Miss. Dromedary were married

And in time a baby was due.

Said Mrs. Camel to her beloved

'Would you prefer one hump or two?'

Little MissLittle Miss Muffet sat on a tuffet

Eating a Big Mac and Fries

Along came a spider and sat down beside her

'Yuck', it said, 'I prefer flies'

AuntsYou mustn't be fooled by their features.

They look sweet, and kind, and gentle,

Some would say quite ornamental,

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POETRY – Grade 8

But they're really scary creatures.

'Come here and have a great big hug'

She squeezes me 'til I can't speak,

Then kisses me upon the cheek,

Saliva, lipstick, perfume ugh!

It's Christmas time I really fear.

It’s just the same year after year,

As I unwrap my worst nightmare,

A set of knitted underwear.

So this year I thought I'd treat her

To a gift which she could treasure

And would give me equal pleasure.

I've bought a Spiny Aunteater.

Hear HereI've heard a mouse squeak

and I've heard a lion roar.

I've heard a door creak

and I've heard my Granny snore.

But I've never heard a tree bark,

nor heard a willow weep.

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