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Poetry. Clear your desk for the opening activity! . Poems…. …are about love. …rhyme. …can be interpreted in multiple ways . …are no fun. …fiction. …are more than 2 lines long. …should be read aloud. …should be written down. Lesson Objectives:. Students will be able to…
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Poetry Clear your desk for the opening activity!
Poems… …are about love. …rhyme. …can be interpreted in multiple ways. …are no fun. …fiction. …are more than 2 lines long. …should be read aloud. …should be written down.
Lesson Objectives: Students will be able to… 1. Develop a definition of poetry. 2. Collaboratively discuss selected poems in order to appreciate the use of poetry as a means of expression. 3. Describe how the structure and grammar of poetry can differ from standard prose writing and explain reasons a poet might choose to use such style.
Poetry po·et·ry [poh-i-tree] –noun 1. the art of rhythmical composition, written or spoken, for exciting pleasure by beautiful, imaginative, or elevated thoughts
Poetry po·et·rynoun /ˈpōətrē/ /ˈpōitrē/poetries, plural Literary work in which special intensity is given to the expression of feelings and ideas by the use of distinctive style and rhythm
Poetry Terms • Speaker- the narrator of the poem • stanza- a division or section of poetry (like a paragraph) • Verse- another word for poetry • Prose- writing that is not verse or poetry
Are there any words or phrases in the poem that stick out to you or your group? Highlight them. • Who is telling the story in the poem? (Who is the speaker?) • What is the speaker talking about in this poem? How does he/she feel about this subject? • How do you feel while reading this text? What words/phrases make you feel this way? Be specific. • Why is poetry a good medium for this author’s thoughts? How would it be different if told in another way?
This is Just to Sayby Williams Carlos Williams I have eaten the plums that were in the icebox and which you were probably saving for breakfast Forgive me they were delicious so sweet and so cold
Fishing on the Susquehanna in JulyBilly Collins a bowl of tangerines on the table— trying to manufacture the sensation of fishing on the Susquehanna. There is little doubt that others have been fishing on the Susquehanna, rowing upstream in a wooden boat, sliding the oars under the water then raising them to drip in the light. But the nearest I have ever come to fishing on the Susquehanna was one afternoon in a museum in Philadelphia I have never been fishing on the Susquehanna or on any river for that matter to be perfectly honest. Not in July or any month have I had the pleasure—if it is a pleasure— of fishing on the Susquehanna. I am more likely to be found in a quiet room like this one— a painting of a woman on the wall,
That is something I am unlikely ever to do, I remember saying to myself and the person next to me. Then I blinked and moved on to other American scenes of haystacks, water whitening over rocks, even one of a brown hare who seemed so wired with alertness I imagined him springing right out of the frame. when I balanced a little egg of time in front of a painting in which that river curled around a bend under a blue cloud-ruffled sky, dense trees along the banks, and a fellow with a red bandanna sitting in a small, green flat-bottom boat holding the thin whip of a pole.
Roots -John Pillar Lost in so many similar fields, To sit down on the turned earth and drift Away on the rhythms of his own First possible death? Rescuing Voices come closer, veer off. Flashlight beams Strobe over your head. You do not care. Each building you remember—hen house, Sheep shed, corn crib, barn—caved in upon itself, The walls and roofs collapsing with a final Percussive clap, since you last walked those fields. No one you will ever know works that land now. It is as green as Eden. Life rises in the roots, in the leaves. It's easy to believe you can go back Whenever you desire, jump in the car And drive, arrive at dusk—the hour You recall most vividly—and walk Among the buildings spread across the farm, Out toward the pastures, woods, and fields. There is music in the leaves, in the dense Columns of green corn. The wind lays down The tune. You can play it, too, simply By walking with eyes closed, arms Stretched out, lightly striking the stalks. Who wouldn't desire, like the children
A Country Boy in WinterSarah Orne Jewett When I go home at supper-time, Ki! but my cheeks are red! They burn and sting like anything; I’m cross until I’m fed. You ought to see the biscuit go, I am so hungry then; And old Aunt Polly says that boys Eat twice as much as men. There’s always something I can do To pass the time away; The dark comes quick in winter-time— A short and stormy day And when I give my mind to it, It’s just as father says, I almost do a man’s work now, And help him many ways. The wind may blow the snow about, For all I care, says Jack, And I don’t mind how cold it grows, For then the ice won’t crack. Old folks may shiver all day long, But I shall never freeze; What cares a jolly boy like me For winter days like these? Far down the long snow-covered hills It is such fun to coast, So clear the road! the fastest sled There is in school I boast. The paint is pretty well worn off, But then I take the lead; A dandy sled’s a loiterer, And I go in for speed. When I go home at supper-time, Ki! but my cheeks are red! They burn and sting like anything; I’m cross until I’m fed. You ought to see the biscuit go, I am so hungry then; And old Aunt Polly says that boys Eat twice as much as men. There’s always something I can do To pass the time away; The dark comes quick in winter-time— A short and stormy day And when I give my mind to it, It’s just as father says, I almost do a man’s work now, And help him many ways. I shall be glad when I grow up And get all through with school, I’ll show them by-and-by that I Was not meant for a fool. I’ll take the crops off this old farm, I’ll do the best I can. A jolly boy like me won’t be A dolt when he’s a man. I like to hear the old horse neigh Just as I come in sight, The oxen poke me with their horns To get their hay at night. Somehow the creatures seem like friends, And like to see me come. Some fellows talk about New York, But I shall stay at home
I shall be glad when I grow up And get all through with school, I’ll show them by-and-by that I Was not meant for a fool. I’ll take the crops off this old farm, I’ll do the best I can. A jolly boy like me won’t be A dolt when he’s a man. I like to hear the old horse neigh Just as I come in sight, The oxen poke me with their horns To get their hay at night. Somehow the creatures seem like friends, And like to see me come. Some fellows talk about New York, But I shall stay at home
Me up at doese.e. cummings Me up at does out of the floor quietly Stare a poisoned mouse still who alive is asking What have i done that You wouldn't have
Lazy Jane by Shel Silverstein Lazy lazy lazy lazy lazy lazy Jane, she wants a drink of water so she waits and waits and waits and waits for it to rain.
Lesson Objectives: Students will be able to… 1. Develop a definition of poetry. 2. Collaboratively discuss selected poems in order to appreciate the use of poetry as a means of expression. 3. Describe how the structure and grammar of poetry can differ from standard prose writing and explain reasons a poet might choose to use such style. Did we do this? Let’s check!