FC: Iris' Poetry Booklet By: Iris Period 5
1: Table of Contents Poetry Terms.............................................................Page 2-5 Poem Analysis..........................................................Page 6-13 Narrative: The End of Days.....................................Page 14-19 Ode to the Midnight Sky.........................................Page 20-21
2: Poetry Terms 1) Epistrophe (Epiphora): The repetition of a word or words at the end of two or more successive verses, clauses, or sentences e.g. She's safe, just like I promised. She's all set to marry Norrington, just like she promised. And you get to die for her, just like you promised." -Jack Sparrow, Pirates of the Caribbean
3: 2) Litotes: A figure of speech consisting of an understatement in which an affirmative is expressed by negating its opposite. e.g. We made a difference. We made the city stronger, we made the city freer, and we left her in good hands. All in all, not bad, not bad at all. -Ronald Reagan
5: 3) Conceit: A fanciful poetic image or metaphor that likens one thing to something else that is seemingly very different. e.g. Shall I Compare Thee to a Summer’s Day? by William Shakespeare “Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate: Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, And summer's lease hath all too short a date: Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, And often is his gold complexion dimm'd, And every fair from fair sometime declines, By chance, or nature's changing course untrimm'd: But thy eternal summer shall not fade, Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st, Nor shall death brag thou wander'st in his shade, When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st, So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see, So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.”
6: Poetry Analysis Birches Robert Frost When I see birches bend to left and right Acros the line of straighter darker trees I like to think some boy's been swinging them. But swinging doesn't bend them down to stay. Ice-storms do that. Often you must have seen them 5 Loaded with ice a sunny winter morning After a rain. They click upon themelves As the breeze rise, and turn many-colored As the stir cracks and crazes their enamel. Soon the sun's warmth makes them shed crystal shells 10 Shattering and avalanching on the onw-crust-- Such heaps of broken glass to sweep away You'd think that inner dome of heaven had fallen. They are dragged to the withered bracken by the load, And they seem not to break; though once they ar bowed 15 So low for long, they never right themselves: You may see their trunks arching in the woods Years afterwards, trailing their leaves on the ground Like girs on hands and knees that throw their hair Before them over their heads to dry in the sun. 20 But I was going to say when Truth broke in
7: With all her matter-of-fact about the ice-storm (Now am I free to be poetical?) I should prefer to have some boy bend them As he went out and in to fetch the cows-- 25 Some boy too far from town to learn baseball, Whose only pay was what he found himself, Summer or winter, and could pay alone. One by one he subdued his father's trees By riding them down over and over again 30 Until he took the stiffness out of them, And not one but hung limp, not one was left For him to conquer. He leared all there was To learn about not launching out too soon And so not carrying the tree away 35 Clear to the ground. He always kept his poise To the top branches, climbing carefully With the same pains you use to fill a cup Up to the brim, and even above the brim. Then he flung outward, feet first, with a swish, 40 Kicking his way down through the air to the ground. So was I once myself a swinger of birches; And so I dream of going back to be. It's when I'm weary of considerations, And life is too much like a pathless wood 45
8: Where your face burns and tickles with the cobwebs Broken across it, and one eye is weeping From a twig's having lashed across it open. I'd like to get away from earth awhile And then come back to it and begin over. 50 May no fate wilfully misunderstand me And half grant what I wish and snatch me away Not to return. Earth's the right place for love: I don't know where it's likely to go better. I'd like to go by climbing a birch tree, 55 And climb black branches up a snow-white trunk Toward heaven, till the tree could bear no more, But dipped its top and set me down again. That would be good both going and coming back. One could do worse than be a swinger of birches. 60
9: TPCASTT Analysis T-The poem will probably be about a birch. P-Birches are bent by ice storms, not by children playing on them, but children playing with them can bend them. Those children that are always on the side. And sometimes you just want to get away from everything else in life and just find some time to get away. C-The whole poem has a sort of unorganized meter, which makes it sort of tense and maybe hard to understand. I think that the lack of a proper meter makes it more interesting to read, as it splits the poem up at certain points that add to the feeling. Lines 5-13 are examples of imagery. It's an every day occurence, after ice storms, when the days get warmer and the ice on the branches fall, "such heaps of broken glass to sweep away."
10: C (countinued)-The children that play on the biches are the dreams and thoughts of what you want, how you want to get to the top, but they when people are suddenly shot down from the trees, when they jump, it's when too many bad things gather and you fall from how far you come. Each of the next times you try, you can't get as far because the road to heaven will keep getting smaller and smaller until you have no chance anymore, too many bad deeds to anchor you. On line 21 to 22, truth is personified as a female, and it's Frost thinking that he's about to say that 'Truth' suddenly hts when he really wants it to be something else, children playing on the birches instead of ice-storms breaking the branches. When Frost talks about being a swigner of birches in line 42-43, he wants to go back and have enough good deeds to reach heaven, to have the thrill of being so close, and then just having to fling yourself off when you're close enough to taste heaven. Line 44 to 49 is that time when you're just too tired of the life you've been living and you feel that every day is routine instead of ever changing, stagnent, and you just don't want to be there anymore, but you have to be. It's that time when you don't really hava choice in your life anymore, a 'pathless wood.' Someone else makes your choices for you.
11: C (continued)-The lines after talk about when you want to come back after you've left, to restart. When you can start at the beginning and then go through life again. Or you just don't want to come back anymore. You don't have to come back, and you can just leave, in a word, die. And the very last line, 'One could do worse than be a swinger of birches,' is saying that there are wose things to do than aspire to somewhere, aspire to be something better than what you are. A-A sort of calm, unhurried pace, almost sluggish. It's very contemplative, very thoughtful and slow. S-I think that there's one shift between line 22 and 24, with the line '(Now am I free to be poetical?).' I think that that's shift between the ice-storms into the children. The second shift occurs between line 42 and 43. It goes from explaining things, more imagery, into a more reflective stance. T-There isn't any harm in trying. There's more harm in just sitting and waiting. When you want to leave, sometimes it's just best to go.
12: T-I think that the title now means your good deeds, and how you want to stay on the good side of things.
14: Narrative: The End of Days As the sun sets upon the west dome, A crack is seen, spider webs in glass, Dismissed until the next day, And leave to dream of something sweet tonight. But I investigate, 5 I alone, And creep to find the gossamer thread, High above the sleeping fields. As I climb, the sun starts rising, The metal burning, 10 And a larger crack Is evident. I scramble down, As others rise, To see the damage wrought on the fair dome, 15 And stare in awe at what has happened. The glass splits farther, and I touch the ground. And shatters in everyone's faces. I run for safety, Diving just in time. 20
15: Havoc ensues, destroying the fields. I run to the exit with everyone else, Scurrying with the ants on the ground. No one notices the next pane, 25 Break and shatter and falling rain. When new panic starts, And more people run. A small child cries, A wailing noise high above the noise, 30 Screeching high, screeching loud. Waiting to be quieted. I rush to his aid, Scooping him into my arm, Quieting him as I run. 35 Frantically getting through the crowd. I murmur sweet nothings, Watching him sleep, While constantly searching for his mother. And keeping him close, fearing for us both. 40 I rushed into a nearby house, Instead of running to the door, Where everyone else was, Trapped more than we were. I held the child close, 45 Keeping him quiet, Trying to figure my passage out. When there's only one.
16: Outside the domes, The homes that we know, 50 A wasteland presides, Inhospitible and dead. Unsuitable for life, With toxic air and fumes, We don't have help, 55 No science, only plants, And farmers who grew In sheltered lives. No one understands, What is happening, 60 Or why it is. Only that it's frightening, And their home is falling. The child and I, We hide in the home, And I seach for something 65 Which can protect from the fumes. I could tell there was death, There was dying, There was loss, But we stayed safe, and worried and lost. 70 I found a comforter, thick enough to cover us
17: And wrap it around us both, Running headfirst Into the smog. First I trip over a body, 75 Lying face-up, Killed by the fumes. I find the door, Hoping to get out, But the smoke starts to seep in, 80 Past my meager defenses, And the child starts coughing, My eyes watering. A man in a silver suit I can barely see, 85 Walks over the bodies Of farmers who didn't know, Didn't know about the fumes The barren earth, The lack of life. 90 I plead for help, Vision fading, almost seeing double, Unable to breathe. The child is quiet in my arms, Worrying me deeply. 95
18: I start to fail, My vision, My body. Everything blurs, And I fall victim to the smoke. 100 When I wake up, I'm dressed in a nightgown, Breathing clean air, No longer surrounded by death. I can't find the child, 105 Which worries me deeply, And I hope for his safety, Looking 'round wildly. Relief now takes over, When I hear his cry. 110 And I can rest easy, Knowing we're safe.
20: Ode to the Midnight Sky Ode to the midnight sky, With stars twinkling bright, Like diamonds woven in satin, blue cloth. Ode to the silver moon, Our greatest light, 5 Guiding with its silver glow. Ode to the stars that shine, Large and small, Forming our childhood dreams with their light. The grass is our. 10 The sky is our blanket, The stars are our nightlights. A velvety blue, Streaked with black, Blended together with swellings of color. 15 A net of stars, Woven togther bythe light they cast, Held together by forces unseen.
21: Ode to the dreams, Of sleepers who think, 20 Of fantastic lands beyond what we see. Ode to the love, That lives under the stars That more than one knows. Ode to the dreams that are born 25 To the dreams that are broken To the dreams that are left to pursue another. Ode to a memory, An old thought, An old friend, 30 That will stay with you And the stars and the sky as a guide And a lonely heart that will be a thought.