POETRY NARRATIVE POETRY Poetry that tells a story

POETRY!

NARRATIVE POETRY Poetry that tells a story Can you put the poem in a plot diagram? � If you can, it’s a narrative poem! � ** The Odyssey classifies not only as an “Epic Poem, ” but also as a narrative poem!

DONALD JUSTICE by Donald Justice -- Coronado Beach, California, March, 1905 In a hotel room by the sea, the Master Sits brooding on the continent he has crossed. Not that he foresees immediate disaster, Only a sort of freshness being lost -Or should he go on calling it Innocence? The sad-faced monsters of the plains are gone; Wall Street controls the wilderness. There's an immense Novel in all this waiting to be done. But not, not -- sadly enough -- by him. His talents, Such as they may be, want a different theme, Rather more civilized than this, on balance. For him now always the recurring dream Is just the mild, dear light of Lamb House falling Beautifully down the pages of his calling.

CASEY AT THE BAT By Ernest Lawrence Thayer Taken From the San Francisco Examiner - June 3, 1888 The outlook wasn't brilliant for the Mudville nine that day; The score stood four to two, with but one inning more to play, And then when Cooney died at first, and Barrows did the same, A pall-like silence fell upon the patrons of the game. A straggling few got up to go in deep despair. The rest Clung to that hope which springs eternal in the human breast; They thought, "If only Casey could but get a whack at that — We'd put up even money now, with Casey at the bat. " But Flynn preceded Casey, as did also Jimmy Blake, And the former was a hoodoo, while the latter was a cake; So upon that stricken multitude grim melancholy sat; For there seemed but little chance of Casey getting to the bat. But Flynn let drive a single, to the wonderment of all, And Blake, the much despised, tore the cover off the ball; And when the dust had lifted, and men saw what had occurred, There was Jimmy safe at second and Flynn a-hugging third.

Then from five thousand throats and more there rose a lusty yell; It rumbled through the valley, it rattled in the dell; It pounded on the mountain and recoiled upon the flat, For Casey, mighty Casey, was advancing to the bat. There was ease in Casey's manner as he stepped into his place; There was pride in Casey's bearing and a smile lit Casey's face. And when, responding to the cheers, he lightly doffed his hat, No stranger in the crowd could doubt 'twas Casey at the bat. Ten thousand eyes were on him as he rubbed his hands with dirt. Five thousand tongues applauded when he wiped them on his shirt. Then while the writhing pitcher ground the ball into his hip, Defiance flashed in Casey's eye, a sneer curled Casey's lip. And now the leather-covered sphere came hurtling through the air, And Casey stood a-watching it in haughty grandeur there. Close by the sturdy batsman the ball unheeded sped — "That ain't my style, " said Casey. "Strike one!" the umpire said. From the benches, black with people, there went up a muffled roar, Like the beating of the storm-waves on a stern and distant shore; "Kill him! Kill the umpire!" shouted some on the stand; And it's likely they'd have killed him had not Casey raised his hand.

With a smile of Christian charity great Casey's visage shone; He stilled the rising tumult; he bade the game go on; He signaled to the pitcher, and once more the dun sphere flew; But Casey still ignored it, and the umpire said "Strike two!" "Fraud!" cried the maddened thousands, and echo answered "Fraud!" But one scornful look from Casey and the audience was awed. They saw his face grow stern and cold, they saw his muscles strain, And they knew that Casey wouldn't let that ball go by again. The sneer has fled from Casey's lip, the teeth are clenched in hate; He pounds with cruel violence his bat upon the plate. And now the pitcher holds the ball, and now he lets it go, And now the air is shattered by the force of Casey's blow. Oh, somewhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright, The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light, And somewhere men are laughing, and little children shout; But there is no joy in Mudville — mighty Casey has struck out.

DRAMATIC POETRY Speaker is clearly someone other than the poet � Does the poem have more than one speaker? � Does it kind of work like a play? It might be dramatic poetry!

INCIDENT IN A ROSE GARDEN Gardener Sir, I encountered Death Just now among our roses Thin as a scythe he stood there. I knew him by his pictures He had on his black coat Black gloves, and broad black hat. I think he would have spoken, Seeing his mouth stood open. Big it was, with white teeth. As soon as he beckoned, I ran untill I found you. Sir, I'm quitting my job. I want to see my sons Once more before I die. I want to see California. Master Sir, you must be that stranger Who threatened my gardener. This is my property, sir. I welcome only friends here. Death Sir, I knew your father. And we were friends at the end. As for your gardener, I did not threaten him. Old men mistake my gestures. I only ment to ask him To show me to his master. I take it you are he?

SPEAKER Voice that “talks” to the reader George Gray by Edgar Lee Masters I have studied many times The marble which was chiseled for me -A boat with a furled sail at rest in a harbor. In truth it pictures not my destination But my life. For love was offered me and I shrank from its disillusionment; Sorrow knocked at my door, but I was afraid; Ambition called to me, but I dreaded the chances. Yet all the while I hungered for meaning in my life. And now I know that we must lift the sail And catch the winds of destiny Wherever they drive the boat. To put meaning in one's life may end in madness, But life without meaning is the torture Of restlessness and vague desire -It is a boat longing for the sea and yet afraid.

LYRIC POETRY Writers express their thoughts and feelings about a subject in a brief but musical way � Does the poem have a songlike quality?

THE FUNERAL, BY GORDON PARKS After many snows I was home again. Time had whittled down to mere hills the great mountains of my childhood. Raging rivers I once swam trickled now like gentle streams And the wide road curving on to China or Kansas City or perhaps Calcutta Had withered to a crooked path of dust Ending abruptly at the county burial ground. Only the giant that was my father remained the same. A hundred strong men strained beneath his coffin When they bore him to his grave.

WORD CHOICE IN POETRY What kind of mood does the poem have? � Feeling a poem creates � Does the poem feel happy? Sad? Joyful? What kind of tone does the poem have? � Attitude that a poet takes toward his or her subject and the readers Choice of words – are they friendly? Sad? Mad?

JABBERWOCKY BY LEWIS CARROLL (from Through the Looking-Glass and What Alice Found There , 1872) `Twas brillig, and the slithy toves Did gyre and gimble in the wabe: All mimsy were the borogoves, And the mome raths outgrabe. "Beware the Jabberwock, my son! The jaws that bite, the claws that catch! Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun The frumious Bandersnatch!" He took his vorpal sword in hand: Long time the manxome foe he sought -So rested he by the Tumtum tree, And stood awhile in thought. And, as in uffish thought he stood, The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame, Came whiffling through the tulgey wood, And burbled as it came! One, two! And through and through The vorpal blade went snicker-snack! He left it dead, and with its head He went galumphing back. "And, has thou slain the Jabberwock? Come to my arms, my beamish boy! O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!' He chortled in his joy. `Twas brillig, and the slithy toves Did gyre and gimble in the wabe; All mimsy were the borogoves, And the mome raths outgrabe.

IMAGERY A poet’s use of words to create a mental picture or image that communicates experiences � Can you “sense” the poem using your five senses? It’s that whole “showing not telling thing again!!

"MEMORY, " BYMARGARET WALKER Read the poem then complete the assignment that follows. I can remember wind-swept streets of cities on cold and blustery nights, on rainy days; heads under shabby felts and parasols and shoulders hunched against a sharp concern; seeing hurt bewilderment on poor faces, smelling a deep and sinister unrest these brooding people cautiously caress; hearing ghostly marching on pavement stones and closing fast around their squares of hate. I can remember seeing them alone, at work, and in their tenements at home. I can remember hearing all they said: their muttering protests, their whispered oaths, and all that spells their living in distress. • Identify the tone in this poem; and • describe two examples from the poem in which the author's use of imagery helps create the tone that you identified.

FIGURATIVE LANGUAGE Language that uses figures of speech to create pictures – saying one thing but meaning another � Does the poem use Literary Elements to paint it’s picture? Simile Metaphor Personification

"I WANDERED LONELY AS A CLOUD" by William Wordsworth I wandered lonely as a cloud That floats on high o'er vales and hills, When all at once I saw a crowd, A host, of golden daffodils; Beside the lake, beneath the trees, Fluttering and dancing in the breeze. Continuous as the stars that shine And twinkle on the milky way, They stretched in never-ending line Along the margin of a bay: Ten thousand saw I at a glance, Tossing their heads in sprightly dance. The waves beside them danced; but they Out-did the sparkling waves in glee: A poet could not but be gay, In such a jocund company: I gazed---and gazed---but little thought What wealth the show to me had brought: For oft, when on my couch I lie In vacant or in pensive mood, They flash upon that inward eye Which is the bliss of solitude; And then my heart with pleasure fills, And dances with the daffodils.

MUSICAL DEVICES IN POETRY! When poets use the sound of words to enrich their poetry � Alliteration – repetition of the same consanant sound � Assonance – repetition of vowel sounds � Onomatopoeia – use of a word whose sound imitates or suggests sound � Can you think of examples of each? � Also . . Parallelism – repetition of similarly structured lines

THE BELLS BY EDGAR ALLEN POE I Hear the sledges with the bells. Silver bells! What a world of merriment their melody foretells! How they tinkle, In the icy air of night! While the stars that oversprinkle All the heavens, seem to twinkle With a crystalline delight; Keeping time, In a sort of Runic rhyme, To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells From the bells, Bells, bells. From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells.

II Hear the mellow wedding bells, Golden bells! What a world of happiness their harmony foretells! Through the balmy air of night How they ring out their delight! From the molten-golden notes, And an in tune, What a liquid ditty floats To the turtle-dove that listens, while she gloats On the moon! Oh, from out the sounding cells, What a gush of euphony voluminously wells! How it swells! How it dwells On the Future! how it tells Of the rapture that impels To the swinging and the ringing Of the bells, bells, Bells, bells. To the rhyming and the chiming of the bells!

III How they clang, and clash, and roar! Hear the loud alarum bells. What a horror they outpour Brazen bells! On the bosom of the palpitating air! What a tale of terror, now, their Yet the ear it fully knows, turbulency tells! By the twanging, In the startled ear of night And the clanging, How they scream out their affright! How the danger ebbs and flows: Too much horrified to speak, Yet the ear distinctly tells, They can only shriek, In the jangling, Out of tune, And the wrangling, In a clamorous appealing to the How the danger sinks and swells, mercy of the fire, By the sinking or the swelling in the In a mad expostulation with the anger of the bellsdeaf and frantic fire, Of the bells. Leaping higher, Of the bells, With a desperate desire, Bells, bells. And a resolute endeavor, In the clamor and the clangor of Now–now to sit or never, By the side of the pale-faced moon. the bells! Oh, the bells, bells! What a tale their terror tells Of Despair!

IV A paean from the bells! Hear the tolling of the bells. And his merry bosom swells Iron Bells! With the paean of the bells! What a world of solemn thought And he dances, and he yells; their monody compels! Keeping time, In the silence of the night, In a sort of Runic rhyme, How we shiver with affright To the paean of the bells. At the melancholy menace of their Of the bells: tone! Keeping time, For every sound that floats In a sort of Runic rhyme, From the rust within their throats To the throbbing of the bells. Is a groan. Of the bells, bells. And the people–ah, the people. To the sobbing of the bells; They that dwell up in the steeple, Keeping time, All Alone As he knells, And who, tolling, In a happy Runic rhyme, In that muffled monotone, To the rolling of the bells. Feel a glory in so rolling Of the bells, bells: On the human heart a stone. To the tolling of the bells, They are neither man nor woman. Of the bells, bells. They are neither brute nor human. Bells, bells. They are Ghouls: To the moaning and the groaning of And their king it is who tolls; the bells. And he rolls, Rolls THE END

STRUCTURE OF POETRY Stanza – unit with a set number of lines � Couplet – Stanza of two rhymed lines � Quatrain – Stanza of four rhymed lines � Meter – pattern of accented and unaccented syllables that form the basis of a poem’s rhythm Number of rhythmic beats or “feet” in a line and the arrangement of accented and unaccented syllables A line that has five beats or feet is called a pentameter If a foot has an unaccented syllable followed by an accented syllable it is called an iamb. If a poem has no regular meter it is called “Free Verse”

WHAT’S THE STRUCTURE? maggie and milly and molly and may By e. e. cummings maggie and milly and molly and may went down to the beach (to play one day) and maggie discovered a shell that sang so sweetly she couldn't remember her troubles, and milly befriended a stranded star whose rays five languid fingers were; and molly was chased by a horrible thing which raced sideways while blowing bubbles; and may came home with a smooth round stone as small as a world and as large as alone. For whatever we lose (like a you or a me) it's always ourselves we find in the sea

SONNET – WELCOME TO SHAKESPEARE’S WORLD! Lyric poem of 14 lines with a set rhyme scheme Normally written in iambic pentameter �A line of ten syllables in which every second syllable is accented � Usually unaccented lines are marked with a “u” while accented syllables are marked with a “/” � A rhyme scheme is marked by coordinating alphabet letters for each rhyme. For example, if the 1 st and 3 rd lines rhyme and the 2 nd and 4 th line rhyme, the rhyme scheme would be abab. Shakespearean rhyme scheme is abab cdcd efef gg

SONNET 116 BY WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments. Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove: O no! it is an ever-fixed mark That looks on tempests and is never shaken; It is the star to every wandering bark, Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken. Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks Within his bending sickle's compass come: Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, But bears it out even to the edge of doom. If this be error and upon me proved, I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

HAIKU Three lines of verse Five syllables, seven syllables, five syllables Usually about nature Temple bells die out. The fragrant blossoms remain. A perfect evening. - Basho

CONCRETE POETRY Poetry in which the words are arranged to look like, or suggest something about, the subject being presented.