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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Chain Poems________________________________________________________________
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POETRY – Grade 8
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!
Crying cockles and mussels alive 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
Crying cockles and mussels alive a-live O!
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
Crying cockles and mussels alive a-live O!Page 5 of 71
POETRY – Grade 8
A-live a-live O! A-live a-live O!
Crying cockles and mussels alive a-live O!
A-live a-live O! A-live a-live O!
Crying cockles and mussels alive a-live O!
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,
How you suffered for your sanity,
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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 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,
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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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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POETRY – Grade 8
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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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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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.
Someone mutters and the streetlamp gutters,Page 30 of 71
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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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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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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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POETRY – Grade 8
Onomatopoeia
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POETRY – Grade 8
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 songPage 45 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,
He sees no magic as he grows, Page 48 of 71
POETRY – Grade 8
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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POETRY – Grade 8
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 Page 64 of 71
POETRY – Grade 8
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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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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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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